Chapter 6
Chapter Six
COLE
What the hell just happened?
After I dropped Adele off, our kiss played on repeat in my thoughts like a scratched record. Over and over again, looping back to the moment she leaned in, the feel of her mouth against mine, the press of her palm on my chest, and the soft sound when her breath hitched in her throat.
I’d kissed plenty of women. I’d had more than a small share of desire-hazed moments.
But I always kept my distance. It was easy. Or, at least, it had been easy. Until tonight.
Until Adele, with the quiet between us humming with tension, as if the air was holding its breath.
I scrambled mentally, reaching to find my footing, for the version of myself that always knew what to say.
The one who teased and flirted and never let things get past the surface. I managed, but barely.
Just before she stepped away, she looked back at me. Her gaze shifted from that startling vulnerability back to the familiar guardedness, as if clouds had drifted over to blot out the sunlight. She hadn’t run away, but it felt like she wanted to. Guilt twisted low in my gut.
Because that kiss was real, in a way I wasn’t used to. I’d kissed her like it meant something. Because it did.
She trusted me in that moment. Instead of honoring that, I pulled away. I threw up walls the second we were in my truck. I knew she could feel it. I could see it in her eyes.
You hurt her. You kissed her like it mattered and backed off like it didn’t.
I ran a hand through my hair as I drove home a little while later. The moon was low above the mountains against the late evening skyline in that smudgy color between day and night.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I asked aloud. “You shouldn’t have kissed her.”
I was full-on talking to myself now. I sighed.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Maybe Adele had her scars. But me? Teasing was my shield. My charm was the sword. It had always been enough to keep the world at arm’s length. And yet, Adele had slipped past all that, somehow.
When I walked into the resort a few minutes later, it was mostly quiet. I headed straight for the kitchen. My mom was there, finishing the last of the dishes, her sleeves rolled up.
“Hey,” I said lightly.
“Adele home safe?” she asked without looking away from the sink.
“Of course,” I said.
She turned off the faucet and dried her hands, but her gaze was sharp, always far too perceptive. I could feel her tuning in to me even before she turned to face me fully.
“You like Adele,” she said simply.
She spoke as casually as if she were commenting on the weather and offering up a concrete, factual observation.
I opened my mouth to dodge, to deflect with a quip—because that’s what I excelled at—but I didn’t. Instead, I shrugged.
My mother’s expression softened as she tilted her head slightly. “It’s okay, Cole.”
“What’s okay?” I asked, striving to keep my tone light. Inside, I was scrambling again. I didn’t like being seen this clearly.
She hung the towel on a hook by the sink, before she faced me squarely. Hands clasped in front of her, her lips curled in a small smile. “You’re one of my middle children,” she began.
I blinked. “One of them?”
Now I could tease. This was easier.
“Yes, one of them,” she said, lips twitching. “And you’ve always been the joker. The peacemaker. The one who smooths everything over with loads of charm.”
I said nothing. I couldn’t.
“You make things light when we need it. Honestly, you were like that before the fire. Before your dad died.” Her voice dropped an octave, softening with the lingering pain of loss. “And I love you for it. We all do.”
I swallowed hard through the emotion tightening in my throat.
“But sometimes…” She trailed off, taking a breath. “It’s okay to be vulnerable, honey.”
That nearly broke me. I looked away, blinking fast. My breath puffed out as I tried to hold back something I didn’t want to feel. I wasn’t prone to crying, but in this moment, I was teetering on the edge of it.
My mother seemed to sense it. She stepped closer and reached for both of my hands, clasping them in hers and giving them a firm squeeze.
That was my mom—exuding quiet strength and steadiness.
She’d been through her own hell. More than I could wrap my mind around.
Losing Dad. Rebuilding the resort from ashes. Losing Bree, her only daughter.
We all shared in that grief, but it was heaviest for her. I knew it. She lost the person who was supposed to help her carry it. And still, she stood here—metaphorically holding me up when I didn’t even realize I was leaning.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted, my voice low.
“Yes, you do,” she said, smiling softly. “You’re just scared.”
I didn’t argue. Hell, Adele terrified me.
“You’re allowed to be scared, Cole. Just don’t let fear stop you from showing up. Not with someone like Adele.”
I nodded, staying quiet for the moment, afraid if I opened my mouth, I’d fall apart.
She released my hands and stepped back, giving me space. Her brief touch had helped me find my balance emotionally.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said finally.
She tilted her head to the side, her warm gaze encompassing me.
As her children, we’d lost our only sister, and that was its own kind of pain.
A deep, jagged slash across our hearts we didn’t talk about often but felt all the same.
But as our mom, she had to carry more. In the aftermath of those compounding losses, at the same time, she’d held us all together when the fire took the only home we’d ever known.
Somehow, she still showed up every damn day. Still loved us, still listened, still noticed when we were off-kilter and wouldn’t let us pretend otherwise.
“I don’t know all the answers,” she added as she wiped down the counter, “but I’ve always known—if you ever let your guard down, you would fall hard. So hard it’d probably frighten you. But you can handle it, Cole. You have so much love to give.”
When a lone tear rolled down my cheek as she glanced my way, she didn’t say anything else.
Just lightly squeezed my shoulder, handed me a tissue, and left me alone in the kitchen.
When I walked into the staff suite upstairs, the lights were dimmed, and my brothers, along with Elsa, Kendall, and Tommy, were parked in front of the TV.
With no space left on the sectional, I eased down to the floor, leaning against the ottoman.
“Whoa, what’s going on?” I asked, watching Tommy gesture animatedly toward the screen.
Tommy loved his cooking and baking shows. “I’m gonna make that for dessert next week.”
I glanced over at Haven, who gave a subtle nod. “He’s been practicing.”
“Well, damn,” I murmured, watching one of the bakers on screen. “We’re all really into it now?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Lincoln said, eyes still glued to the TV.
“Language,” Elsa teased, mimicking our mom’s tone.
“Absolutely,” Lincoln corrected himself, rolling his eyes with a grin. “It does look good, though.”
“It looks complicated,” I offered.
“Yep. That’s why I’m watching. I’m learning,” Tommy replied.
“Look at this man,” Asher said, nudging Tommy. “Culinary genius and future orchardist.”
“Orchardist?” I echoed.
“Yeah, I want us to have an orchard,” Tommy said matter-of-factly. “We have a lot of berries, but we could try apples.”
“Can you even grow apples in Alaska?” I asked.
Tommy nodded. “Uh-huh. That and pears and cherries and more. I read about it.”
“You read about it?” I repeated, grinning. “That’s my guy.”
Just then, Elsa reached out and tapped my foot with hers. I glanced over.
“Adele all situated?” Her tone was casual.
“I dropped her off,” I said, maybe a little too quickly.
Elsa’s brows hitched up. “Your mom talked to her about the apartment. I think she’s going to stay there.”
“I can’t believe none of you guys have moved out there,” Haven said.
“You guys just moved out,” I pointed out. “Give it a minute.”
“You better make that move soon,” Asher added with a lifted brow.
“Okay, what does that mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
Lincoln mirrored Asher’s brow waggle. “It means you like Adele, and it’s obvious to all of us.”
“Oh, come on—” I began.
“It is obvious,” Tommy said, cutting in with a dry tone that sounded far older than his years. “For what it’s worth, I like her.”
We all swung to look at him. “Why does that matter?” I asked, wary.
“Because my opinion matters,” Tommy said without missing a beat.
Kendall chuckled. “He’s not wrong.”
“I was right about Elsa and Dad,” Tommy added with a little shrug.
“And me and Jude,” Kendall chimed in.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered, raking a hand through my hair.
“Language,” the entire room replied in unison, even Tommy.
With a sigh, I stood up. “All right. I’m going to bed.”
“You mean,” Lincoln said, smirking, “you’re going to claim a room in the barn apartment?”
“Smart to move into the place where Adele might be staying,” Asher chimed in, his tone sly.
“That’s not—” I cut myself off. “You guys are exhausting.”
“That’s what siblings are for,” Haven called after me as I headed for the hallway.
I didn’t answer. Not because I didn’t have a comeback, but because I was already turning over the idea in my mind.
That apartment had always felt a little too full of memories to sleep there again. But maybe now, for the first time, it could hold something else.