CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Cole
Dublin.
There she is, standing just outside the wash of light, rain slicking her hair to her face, clothes soaked, and eyes steadfast on mine.
Everything inside me locks up . . . because she just saw something she wasn’t supposed to.
Jesus.
Of all people, why did it have to be her?
Every emotion slams through me at once. Shock. Rage. Shame.
God, the fucking shame.
It crawls up my spine and settles heavy in my chest, pressing down until it’s hard to breathe. Because that—that—is not what anyone should ever see.
Not my teammates.
Not the media.
Not the fucking world.
I’ve spent my whole life making sure to keep that secret, and she just witnessed it with a front-row seat.
“Problem?” My dad’s voice cuts in.
I keep my eyes on her. On the one thing that’s good on this field right now when everything else feels like it’s trying to break me.
My dad follows my gaze and snorts. “Thought so.” He pauses. “Tell her to go. I’m not done with you.”
The memory hits out of nowhere.
Those fucking words.
My tuxedo looks sharp and my car keys are in hand. My prom date is waiting for me to pick her up. I’m one foot out the door toward a night of freedom to close out my junior year.
He’s there before I realize it.
Tell her to go by herself. I’m not done with you.
Same words. Same tone. Same fucking chokehold.
I snap.
“I’m done,” I spit out.
He scoffs. “Of course you are. Typical Cole-y boy. Run when it gets hard.” He lifts his chin toward Dublin. “Guess that explains a lot lately.”
That? Is he fucking serious?
My jaw locks and it burns to swallow. “Have a safe trip home.” I don’t even look at him. “You overstayed your welcome the minute you got here.”
It’s nothing close to what I want to say. But it’s more than I ever have.
A dismissal. A boundary. The only piece of control I’ve got left.
He laughs under his breath like I’ve just proved him right, but I don’t give him anything else. I don’t react.
Instead, with shame staining every part of me, I simply turn and walk toward the doors.
Toward her.
Toward anything that isn’t him.
I don’t slow down when I pass her though. I don’t speak, I don’t even look, because if I do, I know what I’ll see in her eyes.
Pity.
Maybe something even worse that might break me when I’m already fractured.
So I push past her and head straight inside to get away.
I need to escape.
I should be numb to him. Unaffected. The thought is useless because every time I think I am, the man who made me—who tore me down to build me back up—shows up to remind me how easy it still is.
“Cole.”
I don’t stop.
“Cole. Wait.”
Her footsteps behind me are quick and determined.
Her hand wraps around my arm. I react before I think, yanking it free as I spin around.
“Don’t.” My voice is a low warning. “I can’t handle much more right now . . . and the fucking breaking point can’t be you.”
The words hang there between us. Honest and raw and true.
Her fingers loosen and for a second, I think she might let me go. I don’t wait to find out. I turn, walk down the hall, and just as I pass Brian, the security guard, I say, “He’s no longer allowed access and needs to leave the premises.”
I don’t wait for his response because within seconds, I’m out the doors, and back into the rain.
The storm hasn’t eased. It’s as relentless as he is. And that’s exactly what I need. Exactly what I deserve.
I don’t look back. Don’t check to see if she followed me. I just climb in my SUV, slam the door, start the engine, and drive.
The windshield wipers are the only sound in the car and my hands ache from gripping the wheel so tight.
My rage should burn off. That’s how this usually works. He shows up out of the blue. He does what he does. I’m consumed by anger, frustration, and shame.
Then I drive aimlessly to let it settle and try to regain a modicum of control.
But tonight is different. Nothing fucking dissipates. Every mile from the complex to my house just makes it worse.
His voice.
Her eyes.
That moment on the field when I look up to see her standing there. It replays on a loop I can’t shut off.
You used to have control.
You look like a boy who’s about to lose everything.
Fucking pathetic. You think this betting scandal is your problem? It’s not. It’s this, your piss-poor excuse for talent.
You always needed pressure to perform. But this? This is what happens when you don’t have it in you anymore.
Of all people to see it, to see me like that—her.
My knuckles turn white on the wheel as I push faster than I should through the sheets of rain.
It’s all too much. I can’t deal with it. Not the yips. Not the accusations. Not him. Not her. Not the way my life is unraveling.
My tires hiss against the wet pavement as I pull into my driveway a little harder than necessary. I cut the engine and sit there for a second, chest rising and falling, pulse still pounding in my ears.
It didn’t go away this time. It got fucking worse.
I fling the car door open, step out into the rain, and head for the front door.
Get inside. Shut it off. Lock it down.
And just as I have the front door unlocked and am pushing it open, “Cole.”
I whip around to see Dublin standing in the rain behind me. Soaked. Breathing hard. Eyes searching in a way I don’t want to be seen.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, noticing her car on the curb. I was so distracted I didn’t even notice.
She doesn’t hesitate. “I followed you. The gate into your neighborhood was open so . . . here I am.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand through my wet hair. “Yeah. I figured that part out. Why?” My voice sharpens. “Why follow me? Why drive like a madwoman in the rain and risk getting hurt—for me?”
“I was worried about you.”
Her words cut through the distance, loud, unfiltered and real.
I blink. Then scoff. “Worried?” I repeat.
She came to check on me?
When is the last time anyone has worried enough about me other than the guys?
Like I fucking deserve it.
My hand drags over the back of my neck, gripping tight. “You don’t get to be worried. Not after all this.”
“All what?” She takes a step closer, under the covered porch and out of the rain.
“This.” I gesture between us. “You. The investigation. The way you’ve been looking at me like I’m already guilty.”
“It’s my job to be suspicious.”
“No.” I shake my head. Why was she there anyway? “Your job is to find the truth. Not decide it before you have it.”
“I thought we were over this.”
“Really? Then why were you at the complex at eight o’clock on a rainy night when no one else was there but me? Did you think you were going to catch me in the act? Were you trying to—”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were!” I don’t know why I’m so sure of it, but I am.
And for some reason, her lack of trust bugs me more than anything. The one person I expected to be logical and reasonable and . . . “You don’t think I see it?” I push for the fight because it’s what I need right now. “Everyone wants something from me. And you aren’t an exception. You—”
“I want nothing from you,” she shouts, stepping closer. “Absolutely nothing.”
Her words ring true—the look in her eyes even more so—but I ignore it.
“I don’t believe that.”
“I don’t care if you do.” Her voice is steady and grounded. “I saw what happened out there. And I wasn’t . . . I couldn’t . . . just walk away from it. From you. I needed to make sure you were okay. That’s it. That’s all.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, my chest aching. “You saw it.” Those three words have an edge to them that could cut someone open.
“And?” she asks, voice softer.
“And nothing.” My laugh is hollow. Self-deprecating. “Congratulations, Dublin. You got a front-row seat to behind-the-scenes action with why Cole Valor is fucked up.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Then what?” I snap. “What did you see? Huh? Go ahead. Say it.”
Her gaze holds mine. It’s so steady, her eyes so calm, they unnerve me.
“I saw a man being torn down,” she says quietly. “And I saw him stand there and take it because he didn’t think he had any other choice.”
Her words are so brutal—because they’re true. Shame riots through me.
“Cole—”
“Don’t,” I warn, my voice breaking as I hold my hand up. “Don’t stand there and try to make sense of what you don’t understand.”
“I don’t have to understand to care.”
She saw it. Saw him. She saw me let it happen.
Fuck.
Just . . . tears burn in my eyes that will not see the light of fucking day. I bark out a laugh instead.
“What about my life right now makes you think any part of this is okay?”
She steps closer, careful, like she’s afraid I might bolt. She doesn’t know how bad I want to.
“I think you’re struggling,” she says quietly. “And I think you’ve been dealing with it alone for so long, all you know how to do is tread water just to breathe again.”
“Dublin,” I warn, her words hit too close. Too validating.
“Cole—”
“Don’t,” I repeat. “Don’t stand there and try to fix something you can’t.”
“I’m not trying to fix you.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I needed to make sure you were okay,” she says again. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
I shake my head, refusing the pity. “Sorry doesn’t begin to cover this.”
“I know,” she says softly. “But I am.”
That does it. That snaps my pride. My temper. And both are like fuel feeding my humiliation.
Anger fires. Misdirected, but it fires anyway.
“You want to know what sorry is?” I step closer without thinking. “Sorry is hating that you saw that. Sorry is wishing you hadn’t been there. Sorry is—”
I cut myself off and drag a hand over my face.
“Forget it,” I mutter.
End this.
I turn.
Shut it down.
Walk in the house, close the door, and shut out all of these emotions that I can’t let myself feel.
“Cole. No.” Her hand grabs my arm just as I cross the threshold. “Finish what you were going to say.”
I freeze. My lungs ache as I hold my breath. As I fight the one thing I want that will make me feel better.
Then slowly, I turn to look at her. Rainwater still clings to her hair and her eyes don’t waver. She lifts her chin in challenge. She’s not backing down.
And that’s when I finally give in.
I step into her space. Close enough to feel her breath on my lips, to notice the way her chest rises and falls, and to ignite the ache deep inside me that lies and tells me she’s the only one who can fix this.
“Sorry,” I say quieter now, rougher, “is knowing it’s not going to fix shit, but still wanting to finish what we started a long time ago.”
The words hang there between us. Heavy. Unavoidable.
Her breath catches. I see it. I feel it.
And that’s it.
That’s the line.
I don’t think. I don’t stop it. I don’t want to.
I stare at her with everything on the line and do the one goddamn thing that will finally make me feel good.
I slant my lips over hers and take.