Chapter 1 Cole #15
I sigh. How unbelievably happy I was that night, and how full of want and trust we were. Now that part of my life feels wistful, nostalgic almost. Nothing like that won’t happen again at least until he’s sorted his life out. If he isn’t too damaged already.
I brush my teeth, check on Noah one last time, and crawl into bed. The memory of Xaden’s kiss lingers like mountain air. I fall asleep dreaming we’re back in Pisgah.
XADEN
JJ’s text read: Got him. Meet us by the gravel yard. Big Sam’s orders.
Now I’m standing in the dark, boots crunching on the gravel, my heart somewhere between my stomach and my throat.
My Glock presses against my spine, hot and useless. I haven’t drawn it once since going undercover. I’m not supposed to unless my life or someone else’s is in real danger.
Like tonight.
The gravel yard sits just off Route 9. It is an eerie place, the kind where the earth swallows your screams.
Ronnie leans against the car. JJ paces like he’s had three espressos.
In the back of the van, Mike, a small-time dealer who got greedy, is bound and gagged. His wild eyes track every movement.
“Got him in Asheville,” JJ boasts. “Took us two days but I told you we’d get him.”
Mike makes a muffled sound. Ronnie grins. “He’s beggin’. Cute.”
I keep my face neutral. “You call Sam?”
“On his way,” JJ says. “Told him we’ve got the merchandise. You ridin’ with us or playin’ lookout?” He’s testing me again, like a wolf nosing for weakness.
Mike wheezes through the gag. I pull it loose. “Please,” he rasps.
JJ steps forward. “Put that back. I don’t have patience for his whinin’.”
I meet his eyes, cool. “If he passes out before Sam gets here, this whole thing’s fucked.”
JJ hesitates. Then backs off with a grunt. “Fine. But if he screams, I’m breakin’ his jaw.”
Headlights blaze down the dirt road. Sam’s SUV. His muscle, Keith and Collum, climb out first. Then Big Sam himself, bald, thick, terrifying.
“Boys,” he says with a grin. “You brought me something?”
JJ beams. Sam peeks in the van, nods, tosses JJ an envelope.
I should stop this. Draw my gun. End it now. But if I do, Dad’s case dies with it. So I just stand there while they drag Mike out.
Collum mutters to Sam: “Wouldn’t wanna cross Willard…”
My pulse spikes at the sheriff’s name, but I pretend I didn’t hear it. It was clearly a slip of the tongue, and Collum looks terrified.
A second, two, three seconds go by. Just enough time for me to go through my options and find them all lacking.
But then Sam just signals his men. They haul Mike toward the SUV. My stance says relaxed, but inside, I’m screaming. Am I really just standing here, watching someone’s son being dragged away by men whose favorite pastime is cruelty?
Apparently I am.
Then I notice a detail in the SUV that almost catches my breath. There might be a chance. If I manage to make the call in time.
I’m leaving when JJ’s voice cuts through: “Late for a date?”
“I don’t do dates,” I drawl.
“You only do the golden boy now?” Ronnie snickers.
JJ blows smoke in my face. “Keith got real interested when I mentioned him. Said he likes a talented mouth like that.”
My blood ices. Just hearing Cole’s name twisted in their mouths feels like a violation. My hand twitches toward my gun. I can’t blow my cover. But I won’t let them talk about him like that, either. Fuck my life.
“I’m getting seriously pissed off with your crazy shit,” I snarl.
Ronnie barks a laugh. “Aww, he’s got it bad.”
JJ squints at me, clearly enjoying himself.
“Can’t blame him, though,” he says more to Ronnie than me. “Cole Hudson’s got class. That mouth. That tight ass. Hell, if Keith doesn’t—”
My vision goes red.
The cop in me knows I’ve got to stay ice-cold.
The man in me wins.
“Say his name again,” I warn, stepping in so fast JJ stumbles. My voice is low, furious. “And I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever say. Teeth, tongue, breath — gone.”
A long silence follows. Ronnie’s knife clicks open and shut, just inches away. Then JJ crushes the cigarette under his boot.
“Noted,” he mutters. Liar.
Back at Frankie’s, I call Keller.
When I tell him I threatened JJ, he unloads his entire vocabulary of curses. Well, too bad. I would do it again in a heartbeat.
Sleep doesn’t come easy that night. Instead, I remember another night.
Our first date.
***
The quiet rushed in when I killed the engine. For a while, we just sat there.
“Have you ever seen the stars properly?” I asked, wincing. But Cole smiled. “Not like this.”
We spread out the blanket I took from home. Just for this moment. A smile tucked on Cole’s lips, a quiet approval.
We laid back, arms brushing just enough to make every nerve in my body feel alive.
The sky was insane with so many stars it almost hurt to look.
I glanced sideways at Cole. He watched the constellations with a focused look, like he was trying to memorize the universe.
“I should come here to write songs,” he said dreamily. I nodded. This place would be perfect for that.
We fell into a charged silence, and suddenly it hit me. We were finally here.
“Cole,” I whispered.
“What?” he asked shyly, but he knew.
His breath caught, and I felt it, warm between us.
I swallowed hard. Cole licked his lips, and I leaned in, slow and unsure, like I was touching something sacred. But Cole was with me, tilting his head, and then our lips met.
It was soft, sweet, hesitant.
I didn’t push. I didn’t dare. Nothing could have prepared me for how gentle it would be.
When we pulled apart, I didn’t move far. I kept my forehead pressed to his.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” I whispered.
***
I groan into my pillow, reluctant to let the memory go. It’d feel too much like letting Cole go. And I refuse to do that. Not when I know he too has been waiting for all this time.
My burner buzzes. Keller, again. Tomorrow isn’t just a status meeting.
It’s the start of a countdown.
COLE
I’m so deep in my thoughts that when Mrs. Kirkland calls my name from her porch, I yelp. She’s in her porch swing, a glass of amber liquid in hand.
“Did I really traumatize you that badly?” she asks, looking almost mischievous. “Come, sit with me,” she invites, gesturing to the wicker chair across from her.
I hesitate. Mrs. Kirkland has always intimidated me. She wasn’t a mean teacher, but she didn’t suffer fools. When it came to algebra, I was nothing but a fool. Without Xaden, I’d have failed most of my courses.
“I promise I won’t ask you to solve for x in the equation 3x + 7 = 2x + 14,” she says.
“That’s kind of you, since I didn’t understand a word you just said,” I grin, easing into the chair.
She sips her drink, eyes twinkling. “Yes, you always leaned heavily on Xaden. Remarkable brain, that boy. Not that you’re stupid, Cole Hudson.
Your talents lie elsewhere. People who think creatively often struggle with rigid logic.
If you wanted to solve equations, you’d find a way to make them artistic. ”
Her words prick at something inside me. Math doesn’t bend, but music does. Luckily, she doesn’t wait for an answer. She knows me too well.
“I’ve soda cans in the fridge,” she says. “Please help yourself. My feet don’t feel like moving.”
Her kitchen looks like every other Baywood kitchen. No algebra-themed wall art. Why did I expect the place to be a shrine to mathematics?
I grab a soda, check my phone. Caspian’s taken Noah to a re-run of Paw Patrol: The Mighty Movie . I’m grateful he volunteered, especially after what happened with Xaden.
I can’t stop replaying our kiss. How intense it was, how desperate.
Four years of longing in one moment. If it weren’t so heartbreaking, it’d almost be funny that I already wrote a record-breaking song about our one last kiss.
Although, if I’m being honest, I’m starting to hope it wasn’t the last kiss after all.
When I return, Mrs. Kirkland is staring off into the distance, swirling her drink. “I never imagined I’d be sitting out here alone,” she says quietly. “When the love of your life is gone… I don’t know if the grief ever fades.”
“I’m sorry. Your husband must have been—”
“I’m not talking about Quinn,” she interrupts with a soft laugh. “Though he wasn’t half-bad.”
I blink. “Oh.”
“My husband wasn’t the love of my life.” She sets her glass down. “Amelia was.”
My mind spins.
“We met in school, fell in love. But it was hopeless. Our families would’ve disowned us if they knew.” She looks at her hands. The formidable teacher is gone; here’s someone vulnerable but strong.
“We hid it. Even Quinn never knew. He was a good man in many ways, but not open-minded.”
“Did you ever see her again after school?” I ask softly.
“Once a year until she died,” she whispers. “One year ago.” My chest tightens. This town has so many secrets.
“We made it work in our own way,” she adds with a small smile. “Even though I’m sitting here drinking brandy and looking sad, I’m mostly just grateful I had that love.”
I swallow. I think back to Xaden’s words. You, me, what we had. Nothing could ever come close.
“It would’ve been nice to meet her,” I say. “Was she good at algebra?”
“Worse than you,” she says, and I laugh, surprised.
She gives me a knowing look. “You and Xaden will get there.”
“I’m not so sure,” I admit, voice cracking. But God, I still want him. Every part of me aches to close the distance, to let him back in, to stop pretending I can live without what we had.
If it were only me, I think I would. I know I would.
I’d take the risk, consequences be damned.
But it’s not just me anymore. And every time I look at Xaden, I feel both the safety I once clung to and the shadows he can’t seem to outrun.
How can I let myself reach for him when I don’t know if it’s love or danger I’d be pulling into my son’s life?
Mrs. Kirkland pats my knee. Her touch is steady, her voice sure. “I am,” she says. “As certain as Pythagoras’ Theorem.”
XADEN