37. Chapter Thirty Seven
Chapter Thirty Seven
Cole
The storm rages outside, wind howling through the trees, rain hammering against the windows. The lights flicker, just for a second, casting shadows along the walls before steadying again. But none of that holds my attention.
Annie does.
She’s standing right in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from her skin, see the tension in her shoulders. She was trying to get past me. Trying to escape back to her room and avoid this conversation.
Avoid me.
Not happening.
She tilts her chin up slightly, her blue eyes guarded. “Cole.”
Her voice is soft, almost hesitant, and that alone is enough to put me on edge. Annie is never hesitant. She’s stubborn, smart-mouthed, quick to push back.
But right now? She looks like she’s trying to outrun something. Maybe even herself.
I cross my arms, planting my feet firmly. “You gonna tell me what’s going on? ”
She blinks, feigning confusion. “What do you mean?”
I give her a look. “Come on, Annie.”
Her fingers twitch at her sides. She shifts, like she’s debating whether or not to just shove past me and make a run for it. I wouldn’t put it past her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she finally says, voice too casual. “I just put Robbie to bed. I’m tired. It’s been a long day, and I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
I nod slowly. “Uh-huh.”
That is true. But that’s not what’s going on.
Her lips press together, and I watch as she glances toward her room, probably weighing whether or not she can make it there before I stop her.
She won’t.
I exhale and drag a hand through my hair. “Look, I was trying to be patient, trying to let you have your space. Trying to wait for you to come to me , but my patience only goes so far.”
She crosses her arms, mirroring my stance. “Cole—”
“No, Annie. You’ve been off all day, and I don’t think you’re feeling sick from jet lag or food or from last night. I’ve been watching you pretend everything’s fine, but I know when you’re full of shit.”
Her brows pull together, and I can see the flash of irritation in her eyes. Good. I’d rather have her irritated than shutting me out.
“I don’t know why you’re making a big deal out of this,” she mutters, looking away. “I’m just tired.”
“Because it is a big deal,” I counter. “You disappear into your room all afternoon, barely eat at dinner, and spend the entire night acting like you’d rather be anywhere but here.”
“That’s not true,” she says quickly.
“No?” I challenge, tilting my head. “So you weren’t trying to sneak off just now?”
She huffs, looking at the ceiling like she’s praying for patience. “I wasn’t sneaking. I was going to my bedroom.”
I take a step closer. She doesn’t move away, but she doesn’t look at me either.
I lower my voice. “Annie.”
She finally meets my gaze.
“Talk to me,” I say, quieter this time.
She swallows, her throat working, and for a second, I think she’s going to tell me. That she’s going to stop pretending.
Then she shakes her head and steps back. “I—”
She opens her mouth and closes it, then shakes her head again. “It’s nothing, Cole. I just haven’t been feeling great, that’s all.”
Her reaction, like she’s on the verge of tears, draws my eyebrows together. Now, this is new. She’s not just feeling off. She’s upset, worried, maybe even scared.
“Yeah,” she says too quickly. “It’s probably just something I ate, or the heat, or…” She waves a hand vaguely.
Before I can register it, she sidesteps and brushes past me to go to her room.
Oh no. Not this time. I turn on my heel and follow her.
She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even acknowledge me, just strides straight into her bedroom like she can shut the door on this conversation.
Not happening.
I step inside right behind her and push the door shut behind me—not hard, but enough to make sure she knows I’m serious. She freezes for a split second before spinning around, arms crossed tight over her chest.
“What the hell, Cole?”
“What the hell you?” I shoot back, matching her stance. “You just brushed me off and walked away—again.”
She exhales, sharp and frustrated, then pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m not in the mood for this.”
“Too bad,” I say, voice low and steady. “Because I am.”
She glares at me, her blue eyes flashing. “ You just have to push, don’t you?”
“Damn right I do.” I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “You think I’m just gonna stand there and watch you shut me out?”
“I’m not shutting you out,” she snaps, but there’s a defensive edge to her voice that tells me she knows she’s lying.
I let out a humorless laugh. “Right. So we’re just playing some game where you act like a completely different person all day, and I pretend not to notice?”
“I haven’t been acting like a different person,” she argues, throwing up her hands.
“Bullshit,” I counter immediately. “You’ve barely looked at me since we got back. You hardly ate at dinner. You spent the whole night pretending to have fun with Robbie while avoiding my damn existence.”
She clenches her jaw, her nostrils flaring slightly as she exhales through her nose.
I take another step toward her, lowering my voice, and ask gently, “Annie, if this is about last night—”
“It’s not about last night,” she says quickly, her expression twisting like the thought actually annoys her.
I narrow my eyes. “Then what the hell is going on?”
She presses her lips together, looking away, and I can practically see the battle going on in her head. She wants to tell me. She doesn’t want to tell me.
Her fingers flex against her arms, like she’s physically holding herself back .
I wait.
And then, after a long pause, she blows out a breath and says, voice clipped and annoyed, “You really want to know what’s going on?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer.
She pushes past me—again—but this time, I don’t stop her. I watch as she strides straight into the bathroom and disappears inside.
What the hell?
I rake a hand through my hair, my frustration mounting as I hear her moving around in there. A few seconds later, she emerges… holding the small trash bin from under the bathroom sink.
My frustration pauses—briefly—because now I’m just confused.
I stare at her. Then at the trash bin. Then back at her.
“Wh… What?”
She doesn’t answer.
She just walks straight past me again, this time toward the little chest at the foot of her bed, where she sets the bin down like it’s some grand reveal.
I blink at it.
Then at her.
“Annie,” I say carefully, my patience starting to fray, wondering if she’s lost her damn mind. “What the hell am I supposed to be looking at?”
Her jaw tightens. Then, without a word, she reaches into the bin and pulls out—
A crumpled pharmacy bag.
My stomach drops an inch.
My pulse kicks up.
Before I can process that, she tosses it over her shoulder and shoves her hand back into the bin and pulls out—
I recognize it immediately.
My entire body goes still.
She holds it up, watching me carefully, her fingers wrapped tightly around it. She looks pissed. She looks scared.
But all I can see are the two pink lines.
My heart stops.
The storm outside rages on.