Chapter 1 Cole #13
“The background thing? You know I don’t care about that. But Caspian would never disappear for four years. So fuck you, Xaden.”
Tears burn my eyes. My chest aches. Caspian looks at me, concerned, but I turn away.
Xaden steps in front of me, jaw clenched. And then, just for a second, his wall cracks. His hands curl into fists, as if holding something in, but his voice comes out raw instead.
“I used to think fucking you was out of the question,” he blurts, eyes burning. “Good to know you’ve changed your mind.”
The words hit me like a punch. The air leaves my lungs. He looks horrified at himself, like he wishes he could claw the words back, but it’s too late.
“Cole,” he starts, voice breaking.
I cut him off. “Your dad asked for one thing,” I say, steady even with tears streaking my face. “Just one. Be a good person. Look at you now. Think you nailed it?”
I turn away before he can answer, flee to the safety of home before I change my mind and stay.
Because I’ve never seen Xaden that broken before.
XADEN
I ride aimlessly through Baywood, ignoring JJ’s texts. Right now I don’t give a fuck about the op.
Cole’s all I care about. How the hell am I ever going to make it right if I can’t even get through one conversation without setting it on fire?
I was supposed to warn him. Try to reason with him. Tell him to be careful.
Instead, I saw him with Caspian again and snapped. Said the ugliest thing I could have said.
I know him better than anyone.
Love him more than anyone.
So why the fuck do I keep hurting him more than anyone?
I don’t realize where I’m going until I’m there. At the cemetery. Mom and Dad’s headstone.
Hi Mom. Hi Dad. It’s your spectacularly messed-up son. I’m lost. I’m tired. I’m scared. And today I became someone you wouldn’t recognize. Someone who hurt the person he loves most.
The last time I came here, Cole found me. Sat beside me in the rain. Shoulder to shoulder, soaked through, refusing to move until I believed I wasn’t alone. No words. Just him. Stubborn, steady, everything I needed.
Now I can’t stop wondering if I’ve ruined that forever. If he’ll ever look at me with anything but anger again.
I press my palms to the stone. Stay there. Long enough for the ache in my chest to dull into something quieter.
“What should I do, Dad? Because right now I feel so far from the good person you wanted me to be… I don’t know if I can find my way back.”
Nothing but silence. So I answer myself: I’ll finish this case. Pull the thread. Burn out the rot. Make sure Dad’s death means something.
Even if it costs me Cole. Even if I never forgive myself.
I brush dirt from my jeans. “I’m sorry I hurt him. I’ll fix it. And I’ll finish what you started. I promise.”
Walking out of the cemetery, I don’t feel lighter. I feel heavier. But under the weight is something else. Not hope. Not yet. But purpose.
COLE
Noah’s asleep. Three rounds of The Very Hungry Caterpillar did the trick, though at this point I’m starting to have nightmares about the insatiable insect. There should be support groups for parents who can recite the damn thing backwards.
Caspian checked in. Asked if I wanted company.
I told him I’m fine. I’m not fine. But whatever this is with Xaden — the storms, the hurt, the heat — it’s ours.
Messy. Brutal. Unfinished. But ours.
I’m wiping down the kitchen counter for the third time tonight. So things are pretty bad. I keep seeing the look in Xaden’s eyes. The moment he broke. Because of me. Because I couldn’t resist pushing back, daring him, trying to win some battle neither of us really wanted to fight.
Now the silence is louder than his words.
And I can’t stop thinking: maybe Baywood isn’t as picture-perfect as it pretends to be. Maybe every parent, every teacher, every so-called pillar of the community is hiding something. Maybe Frankie was right when he told Xaden that quiet towns are the loudest with secrets.
And maybe Xaden was right, too. What if his dad’s death really wasn’t an accident?
I stare at the spotless counter, chest tight.
What if the rot isn’t just under Baywood’s surface?
What if it’s been around me all along?
XADEN
The blue folder sits on my desk, full of scribbled notes, surveillance photos, and crossed-out names. Every lead I’ve chased since the night they wheeled my father’s body out of our garage.
The folder serves two purposes: SBI’s bigger-picture investigation into dirty cops and small town crime lords, and my personal quest — finding out who killed my dad.
I should take the folder to Cole. Lay it all out.
But not tonight. Tonight’s about saying sorry.
Not showing up with a file full of maybes and saying, "Look, this is why I left you." If I handed him this folder now, he wouldn’t see the work. He’d see four years of silence stacked in front of him like evidence.
He’d see abandonment neatly filed away under my name.
And he’d be right — that’s exactly what I did.
I step outside into a warm, quiet street. The kind of summer night that feels like it’s holding its breath.
And then memory hits.
***
The first time I went over to Cole’s as his boyfriend, he answered the door like we were in a Jane Austen novel. He listed every beverage in the house — “tap water, soda, juice, milk” — and then asked if I wanted them cold or room temperature.
“Room temperature milk? You sure know how to treat a guy,” I grinned, and he blushed to his ears.
The pillows in the living room were freshly arranged.
Cole gestured stiffly to the couch, then sat across from me with his hands folded like I might propose at any second.
“No chaperone?” I teased.
“We’re alone,” he said — then, panicked, “But… how about this weather?”
It hit me, sharp and soft, how much it all meant to him. This wasn’t casual. He wanted us so badly it turned him into a slightly unhinged old maid.
I stretched out on the couch and kicked his foot.
“Cole, do you have a concussion, or are you just trying really hard not to look at me?”
He scowled. Muttered something about manners. And I loved him so much it hurt. Because when he forgot himself, when he let himself look at me, it was like being seen for the first time. But the moment he noticed, he’d snap his eyes away.
It made my heart ache: knowing how much he wanted this and how terrified he was of it.
Of me.
Eventually he sat next to me, and once he stopped offering me walnuts from a fancy bowl, I kissed him.
***
I’d bet a hundred bucks there’ll be zero walnuts for me tonight.
COLE
I sit on the porch, hands tightly in my lap.
The air is thick and humid, the night keeping me company.
I’m waiting for Xaden. I know he won’t let this day end without talking, not after what he said.
He’ll come even though I’ve told him to stay away.
Because he’s Xaden. He might have changed in a million ways but not in this.
I swallow. When we were friends, we never even argued.
And when we were together, we only fought once.
I had read a situation all wrong and accused Xaden of getting frustrated with me when the truth was he was nothing but patient with me.
Always. He never pushed. Never made me think less of myself because I wasn’t ready.
Our argument started with Xaden telling me what Ann-Sabrina had said.
“You two make my slow burn novels feel like a men’s 100 meter sprint.
” Any other time I’d have found it funny.
But I was hungry and cranky, and what I heard was: “Everyone’s laughing at you.
You’re so shy. So awkward.” Naturally, Xaden got pissed too, and when I asked him to leave, he did, slamming the door.
I stood in my room, frozen, sure he’d never come back.
I wanted to run after him, but I was scared it was too late.
A few minutes later, I opened the door only to find Xaden leaning against the wall.
“You done being a dumbass?” he asked softly, pulling me close.
And I kissed him like my whole survival depended on it. It probably did.
I want to see Xaden tonight. Need to see him. Not just to hear him say sorry.
To say I’m sorry.
The crickets are chirping. I wonder what they talk about. If they ever argue.
I see him then, standing under the streetlamp. Out of place, like a nervous vampire waiting for an invitation to cross the threshold. The thought makes me snicker, and Xaden startles, noticing me.
“Did you just laugh?” he asks, looking genuinely worried.
“You look like a hesitant vampire,” I explain, another giggle escaping.
He walks closer. “Out of all the things ever said about me, that’s definitely the most interesting.” His voice is soft. I’ve missed that. “Can I sit?”
I nod, and he lowers himself beside me slowly, like he’s afraid I’ll change my mind if he moves too fast. This time I really look at him.
Not for the boy he used to be or cracks in his armor but just to see if he’s okay.
And he’s not. Something tender flutters in my chest. I want to comfort him. But it’s not my right anymore.
“I’m so, so sorry, Cole,” he says, staring at his feet. “I shouldn’t have said any of it.”
He scratches his neck. Finally looks me in the eyes, and the sorrow I see makes me want to weep for him.
I know he really is sorry. But I also remember the years without him: birthdays, Noah’s first steps, nights when the house felt like it would collapse under the weight of his absence.
My chest pulls in two directions at once: the boy who kissed me like I was his world, and the man who vanished when I needed him most.
“You, me, what we had… nothing could ever come close,” he says, voice rough. It wrecks me all the same.
I swallow, picking up a twig that Noah left on the porch.
The question’s haunted me, and I have to ask. “Is that why you’re doing what you do? Is it just some game to find someone better, someone who isn’t me?” My voice’s almost cracking already.