31. Aurora
AURORA
My phone buzzes incessantly, dragging me out of sleep.
I frown and reach across the bed for Cole, but my hand finds nothing except cold sheets. My eyes snap open and land on the other side of the mattress and the empty space where he should be.
For a second, I just lie there staring at the twisted blankets and the dip he left behind, my brain still slow and heavy with sleep as my chest tightens with a familiar kind of dread.
The last time this happened, he disappeared for a week, and I felt like an absolute idiot for letting myself believe what happened between us had meant more to him than it actually did.
I swallow hard, trying not to let that old panic climb back up my throat, trying not to jump straight to the worst conclusion, but then my phone buzzes again, and again, and again, and I push myself up and grab it.
The screen is lit up with missed calls and so many messages that my stomach drops before I even unlock it, and the second I read Isabella’s texts, it drops even harder.
Isabella:
Where are you?
Answer your phone.
You need to get to the station right now.
The guys got arrested.
My heart starts pounding as I stare at the words, trying to make sense of them through the fog still clinging to my head.
Arrested? What the—
I find Isabella’s name, hit call, and she picks up on the second ring. “Oh my God. Finally. Where the hell are you?”
“At Cole’s,” I say, my heart lodged in my throat. “What happened?”
“The guys got into a fight with some of the guys from the Westbrook team and they all got arrested,” she says, her voice shaking slightly.
I close my eyes, a sharp breath slipping out through my nose.
Of course he did.
I told him not to do anything, and he still went and got his dumb ass arrested.
I stop at the edge of the bed, my gaze falling to the empty side of the bed and something tightens in my chest. I know why he did it. I know exactly who he did it for. But that doesn’t make this okay. It doesn’t make it any less stupid. He can’t just blow up his life for me.
Isabella lets out a breath. “Just get here,” she says. “Now.”
The line goes dead.
Panic claws at my chest as I get out of bed, searching for my clothes. I come to a stop when I see them in the dryer, and the last few hours come rushing back to me.
I never cry in front of anyone. I hate feeling weak and humiliated, hate being vulnerable in front of people. But when I came to Cole’s and saw his face drop at what Chase had done to me, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore.
All I wanted in that moment was his arms wrapped around me, holding me. I wanted, for once, to let someone take care of me without having to put up a front and pretend I’m fine.
My throat tightens as I grab my clothes, and then the image of him in a holding cell slams back into me and I force myself to move.
I see Isabella the second I pull into the lot, pacing near the entrance with Maisie beside her, both of them turning the moment they see me.
Isabella hurries over first and grabs my arm. “Thank God you’re here. Are you—”
“I’m fine,” I say, glancing past her at the building. “What’s happening? Where are they?”
“My dad’s still inside,” Isabella says, looking back toward the doors. “He’s trying to get them released, but…” She winces. “They looked rough when they brought them in.”
Maisie lets out a shaky breath beside her. “They haven’t been charged yet,” she says. “I think since everyone was fighting, Coach is trying to say it was just disorderly conduct.”
Before I can ask anything else, the station doors swing open.
Coach Hayes steps out, shoulders stiff, and Isabella is moving before he’s even fully outside.
“Dad?” she says, rushing to him. “What happened? Are they okay?”
He scrubs a hand over his face, looking exhausted and furious.
“I managed to get them released pending further review,” he says.
“No formal charges have been filed yet, but if Westbrook decides to push it, or if any of those idiots press assault charges, that could change. They’re lucky I know half the people in there.
” His jaw tightens. “What were they thinking? Do any of you know why they would do this right before the game?”
Isabella and Maisie both shake their heads straight away.
“I do.”
It just spills out of me and all three of them turn to look at me.
My throat tightens as they wait for me to continue.
“Cole was…” I hate how small my voice sounds.
“He was defending me.” I press my lips together, but it doesn’t stop the wobble in my voice.
“I went to see Chase earlier and he…” God, I hate this.
Hate having to say it. Hate that it happened to me. “He slapped me.”
Isabella’s face drops, her lips parting in shock.
Maisie’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. “What?”
Coach goes completely still, his expression turning murderous. “On second thought, they didn’t do enough damage.”
“Dad—”
“No.” His expression hardens. “That son of a bitch put his hands on you?” He shakes his head, turning toward the station doors. “I’m getting him fucking charged.”
He heads back inside before any of us can stop him, and the three of us just stand there for a second, the cold biting at my face, my heart beating way too fast.
I can feel the girls looking at me, wondering what to say, but I don’t want to talk about it. Can’t.
Luckily the doors open again and the guys come out, looking bruised and completely wrecked.
“Freckles,” Austin says the moment he spots Maisie, heading straight for her and pulling her into his arms. “God, I missed you. I’m not built for prison.”
Logan scoffs. “You were in holding for, like, an hour. Relax.”
Austin pulls back just enough to glare at him. “Easy for you to say. You had your boyfriend in there.”
That earns him a smug smile from Logan, who glances over at Nathan, who, somehow, is the only one of the five who came out of this without a single bruise.
But I’m not looking at any of them anymore.
My heart twists when my gaze catches on Cole’s split lip. He lifts his eyes and stops cold when they find me. Heat crawls up the back of my neck and down my spine because his eyes soften, his mouth pulling into a small smile as his shoulders drop, almost looking like relief.
I cross the lot, but he still doesn’t move, keeping his eyes locked on mine.
“Are you kidding me?” I shout, shoving at his chest, which is about as useful as shoving a brick wall. “I told you not to do anything. I told you to leave it alone.”
He just takes it, standing there with his split lip and bruised face and those dark eyes on me, and that only makes me angrier.
“You are such an idiot,” I snap. “Do you have any idea how bad this could’ve been? You could’ve been charged. You could’ve been kicked off the team. You could’ve gotten expelled. It’s not worth it. I’m not worth—”
The rest of my words die in my throat when his hand slides around my jaw and he kisses me.
My hands stay fisted in the front of his shirt, my brain going completely blank the second his mouth covers mine.
I hear one of the guys whistle behind me, but it all fades into the background.
All I feel is him. The heat of his mouth against mine, his hand cupping my face, kissing me with a passion like he’s wanted this just as much as I have.
Instead of shoving him away and thinking about how insane this is, I kiss him back with everything I’ve got.
Relief hits me as he tightens his hold on me, deepening the kiss. I think of all those almost-moments all the times I caught myself staring at his mouth and wished he could just read my mind, lean in, and kiss me, and he’s doing it.
Finally.
My hand slides into his hair, the other still gripping his shirt, and I kiss him harder, because now that I have this, I don’t know how I’m supposed to ever go without it again.
His thumb brushes over my cheek, and he pulls back, resting his forehead on mine while we both try to breathe from the best kiss of my life.
“Don’t you dare say you’re not worth it,” he says. His thumb drags gently under my cheekbone. “You’re worth more. You’re worth everything.” His jaw tightens. “Don’t tell me to stand down. Not when someone hurts you. I’m not fucking wired that way.”
I marched over here ready to rip him apart for being reckless and making everything harder than it already was, but now my brain has gone completely useless, my mouth still tingling from the kiss.
“About fucking time,” Austin says with a laugh.
The corner of Cole’s mouth lifts, and he leans in, his nose brushing mine before he kisses me again. I rise onto my toes and slide my hands around his neck as whistles and cheers break out behind us, making me chuckle against Cole’s lips.
I should care that everyone is watching, that every rule we ever put in place is being blown to hell in the middle of a police station parking lot.
There’s no way to pretend this is casual anymore, no coming back from this.
And standing here in his arms, with his mouth on mine and his hands holding me, I realize I don’t want to.