Chapter 18
COLE
Itrusted Kate. I honestly believed she understood what the Andersons mean to me—what I’ll do to protect them from my past, from all the bad decisions I’ve ever made.
As Mr. A and I came back into the house, he was sharing his list of household chores, so I missed the first part of Kate’s conversation with Mrs. A. I just heard the beginning of her confession, the brutal rip of the stitches that barely hold my lies together.
The Andersons stood by me when I took the fall for Shannon, when I pleaded guilty to multiple counts of fraud and served over two years in juvie, when I was released back into the world of civilized adults.
If they find out I’ve been lying all these years, that I run Lone Wolf, that I’m a billionaire…
For a moment, I don’t recognize the force tightening a padlock around my chest. Then I do. It’s panic. I must keep Kate from destroying the only family I’ve ever known.
Mr. A gives me an odd look as he says, “Linda? Can you help me for a second? I caught my finger in the screen door, and I need a Band-Aid.” It’s clear both Andersons caught my deadly tone just now. They hustle out of the kitchen like they’re late to a church social.
I know I should let this pass. Make some excuse to the Andersons. I should laugh about a lover’s quarrel and kiss Kate on the cheek, then sit down to a hearty dinner and family chitchat.
But Kate was doing her level best to cost me everything. So once the Andersons are gone, I step close enough to whisper, “What the fuck did you tell her?”
“Nothing!”
“You haven’t been up front with her?”
“I just wanted to straighten out a few lies.”
“Which ones did you have in mind?”
After a moment, she takes the easy route. “I never should have said I work for the school district. It’s too close to their jobs. Mrs. A hates retirement enough she might decide to join me up in Baltimore.”
“Fine,” I say, even though it isn’t. Nothing about this is fine.
Not the prickly challenge Kate issued in the car—Go on.
I’ll wait out here. And not the dangerous truth she was about to tell Linda Anderson.
I shove more aggression into my voice than I should.
“So what’s the new story? Where do you actually work? ”
Her face clouds. She hasn’t thought this through. She was on the verge of ruining everything, and she doesn’t even have a fucking plan. “I work for my da,” she finally says.
“In construction,” I say, because that’s the half-truth she told the Andersons about her father last month.
She grimaces. “Yeah. Construction.”
“What buildings has he worked on?” I do my best to sound engaged, mimicking Mrs. A, making a guest feel at home. “Anything I might have seen?”
“The convention center,” Kate snaps.
“The big one? Downtown?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it true what they say?” I’m still channeling Mrs. A. “Are there really gangsters on those jobs? I mean, I’ve seen things on TV. Do you feel safe?”
“Of course I feel safe. I’m working for my father.”
“I’m just a bit confused.” My version of Mrs. A sounds upset. I need Kate to understand the monstrous stupidity of what she’s trying to do. Of what it would cost me if she succeeded. “Why did you lie about working for the school district?”
“She wouldn’t ask that,” Kate snaps.
“She might. Or she might ask, if you lied about where you worked, did you lie about where the two of us met? Did you lie about how long we’ve known each other? When did we get married? Have I been hiding you for years? What else has Cole kept secret from us?”
“Stop it!” Kate hisses.
I’ve leaned into her as each question drew closer to my own sin. Now she’s crowded against the counter, trapped between the breadbox and the refrigerator. My fingers tremble against the base of her skull.
She barks, “You’re hurting me!”
I back three steps away, so disgusted with myself I have to swallow bile.
Right there, just now, I wasn’t a Dom, measuring out pain with perfect control. I was a man so angry he couldn’t manage his gut-punch reactions. I was a coward, so afraid he couldn’t see past the next three seconds.
Tarasov, Lynch, blackmail, building the fucking Money Box—they’ve all taken a toll on my tightly wrapped command. But in the end, all of that is just money. It doesn’t matter—not like people do.
The Andersons have been the most important people in my life for years. They matter. They’re the reason I almost hurt Kate in a way she could never forgive.
I swallow hard before I blow out one harsh breath. “Fix this,” I say, because it’s easier to tell her what to do than to think about the fucking mistake I nearly made.
“Or what?” she demands, setting her hands on her hips.
I recognize the fire flushing her cheeks.
This is the old Kate, the feral creature who threw a glass of wine in my face in front of a crowd of strangers.
She doesn’t care what anything will cost her.
She just refuses to be controlled, to do anything against her will.
“Or we’re done.”
“Sure, and you’re working for Da.”
“I’ll give him back his money.”
She stiffens. “You already know too much. He’ll kill you.”
“Tell him to get in line then. And bring his best shot. They’ll have to get past the Sawgrass men.”
“Da’s a menace.” She says it like she’s proud, but I see a shiver go through her. She’s scared of the man. Scared of all he’s done over a lifetime of pain.
Pain that I just added to, without permission. Without control. But I cannot lose Mr. and Mrs. A.
Sighing, I take another step back. I keep my hands conspicuously in sight, but I let my ragged voice explain I’m deadly serious. “I will not stand here and argue with you. Fix this with the Andersons. Or pack your fucking bags.”
The ultimatum surprises me. But I do nothing to take it back.
I watch a dozen arguments bloom on her face, all the ways she can tell me to go to hell.
Before she settles on an answer, though, a timer goes off on the oven.
Mrs. A must have been standing just the other side of the door, because she bursts into the kitchen, twisting her apron in her hands.
“It’s the lamb,” she says apologetically.
“I’ll get that for you,” I say, opening the drawer where she keeps the potholders. I take my time centering the pan on a pair of waiting trivets, giving Kate a chance to make her choice. The roast sizzles like souls burning in Hell.
Mrs. A clicks her tongue and begins issuing orders like a general on a battlefield.
Ice water is poured into glasses. Ginger carrots fill one bowl.
Snap peas with mint fill another. Yeast rolls come out of the second oven, followed closely by roasted radishes that make Mr. A wrinkle his nose.
He knows better than to complain, though, as he begins to carve the massive leg of lamb.
Finally, we’re settled at the table, all the dishes passed and compliments delivered to the chef. Mr. and Mrs. A exchange meaningful glances, which leads to Mr. A launching into a long recitation about the robotics team’s performance at State. I make interested noises to keep him going.
All the while, I study Kate. She pushes a few bites of food around on her plate, doing an expert job of avoiding eye contact with everyone. I’m fairly certain she hasn’t actually eaten a single bite. She sips her water, though, and she wipes her lips with her napkin.
After Mrs. A has passed around dishes for everyone to take seconds or thirds, Kate clears her throat. She fiddles with her fork. When she finally speaks, her voice is barely loud enough to hear. “I’m afraid I caused a bit of a scene earlier, and that was never my intention.”
“Now, dear—” Mrs. A begins.
But Mr. A interrupts. “Let the girl talk.”
Kate swallows hard. She glances at me, just a flash, too fast for me to predict what she’s going to say. Despite my having eaten enough to fuel a small army, I feel completely hollow inside.
“I told Mrs. A that I haven’t been completely honest with you. And I know I’m embarrassing Cole by saying this, but I have to get the truth out there.”
Every muscle in my body is frozen. I couldn’t interrupt Kate if I wanted to. And I’m not sure I want to. I don’t know what choice she’s made.
Mrs. A pats her hand sympathetically. Mr. A sits back in his chair, waiting.
Kate looks up from her plate and finally says, “I’ve purposely let you think that everything is just fine with Cole and me.
But the truth is, I was laid off from my job with the school district two weeks ago.
Thank God, Cole’s work is stable at Hamilton so we don’t have to worry about that.
I should have said something earlier, when you asked about the server outage, but I’ve been embarrassed.
And angry. And to be perfectly honest, I’ve felt helpless.
I barely had a chance to figure out how to run a household on our two salaries, and now I’m rewriting the book, making do with one.
I’m sorry I upset everyone. I just… I’m sorry. ”
It’s a pretty act. I watch Mrs. A’s face soften with pity.
“In this economy, dear, there’s no shame in being laid off.
Come with me into the kitchen. I’ve got an entire section in my recipe box for meals that stretch a penny.
Let’s copy over a few of those, to tide you over for a bit.
” Mrs. A looks at her husband and me. “Gentlemen? If you’ll excuse us? ”
Of course we both agree. Mr. A shakes his head as the women disappear behind the kitchen door. When he starts to stack dishes, I realize he isn’t wearing a Band-Aid. I say, “I didn’t think you caught your hand while we installed the screen door.”
He looks confused for a moment, but then he laughs. “I figured you and your missus needed a chance to talk.”
I twitch a shoulder in agreement. I’m still ashamed that I lost my temper. I can’t afford to do that—not here. Not ever. I can’t call myself a Dom if I’m out of control.
“May I offer a word of advice?” Mr. A asks.