CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Cole
The front door clicks shut as the sound of Jaxon and Malachi’s engines pull out of the driveway. I lean back against the door, close my eyes, and blow out a long, ragged breath.
I appreciate their show of solidarity by coming here but having to explain what Tristan did, having to listen to their disbelief and their “are you sure,” was more brutal than I expected. Maybe because I’ve had a few extra days to process his betrayal while theirs is still fresh. I don’t know.
It’s a fucked situation all around.
“You okay?” Dublin asks from the middle of the great room.
“No. Yes.” I shake my head and laugh. “Fuck if I know. It’s been a doozy of a few days.”
“True, but you survived it and now we figure out where to go from here.”
“Hmm.” I push off the wall and move toward her, picking up two empty beer bottles on the way and tossing them in the trash. “That was harder than I thought.”
“What was?” she asks, coming up behind me and wrapping her arms around my waist.
“Explaining it to them. I felt I needed to make excuses for Tristan when there aren’t any.” I blow out a breath and put my hands on her arms and squeeze. “For ten years it’s been the four of us. It’s hard to think of it only being three now.”
“You’re allowed to forgive him,” she says.
“Knee-jerk reaction is fuck no.” I shrug and then sigh. “I keep trying to decide what hurts worse, what he did or the fact that a part of me can understand how one gets desperate enough to end up there.”
“It’s probably easier than most think, but most would never use their friend like he did you.”
“I know. Why didn’t he just ask me for the money? Say he was in a jam? Like . . .” My throat burns unexpectedly. “I’m not defending him. It’s just . . . he was my family.”
The words feel like broken glass in my throat.
Because that’s the part nobody really talks about—not the betrayal itself but the wave of grief after, losing someone who was stitched in your life for so long that you don’t know where the damage ends and the empty space begins.
She presses a kiss against my shoulder blade and sighs. “You told Mal and Jax that you were okay if they still stayed friends with him.”
I nod, my lips twisting and mind racing. “It’s not my job to be their moral compass. Maybe they can be his. I don’t know. Tristan’s in a world of hurt. I’m furious with him, but the last thing I want is to be responsible for cutting him off from everything he knows.”
“That has to be hard.”
“Life is hard.” I snort. “The last fucking week is proof of that.” Her arms loosen around my waist as I turn so I can face her, then I pull her in against me and breathe her in. “To address your comment, I’m sure the anger will fade in time, but I don’t know if forgiveness is possible.”
She leans up and cups my cheek, and I lean my face into it. Is this normal? To want to lean into every touch? To want to make every second together last longer? To know she’s the one I want comfort from?
“I’m sorry you had to deal with all this,” she whispers.
“I’m fine,” I say.
She tips her head back enough to look at me. “No, you’re not.”
“But I will be.” I pause. “This week finally taught me the difference between people who love me, and people who need something from me.”
“That’s a heartbreaking sentence,” she says.
“True, but it’s also been kind of freeing.”
Her gaze searches mine like she’s still checking for fractures beneath the surface. There are plenty, but right now they don’t feel fatal.
“C’mon,” I say, grabbing her hand and moving to the backyard.
The sunset is bleeding orange and gold across the Austin skyline by the time we settle outside.
Dublin curls into the chair beside me sideways, bare feet tucked beneath her, while I stretch my legs out in front of me and lean my head back.
The warm air wraps all around us as we silently watch the sky change colors.
When I look over, Dublin is looking up at me. “Hi,” she says with a soft smile.
My brow furrows. “Hi?”
“There he is,” she says, using my own words back on me.
Warmth settles in my chest, and I pull her legs so they drape across my lap. My thumb traces lazy circles on her calf as I reflect on the past few days. Emotionally draining but cathartic.
“My dad,” I say.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” she says and rests her head on my shoulder.
“I know.” I stare at the sunset. “But I want to.”
“Okay.”
“After learning about Tristan, my head was a mess. I called Dr. Hawley, not because I couldn’t talk to you but . . .”
“It’s okay. Please don’t apologize. She’s a professional.” She presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I’m impressed you knew what you needed and saw her.”
Why does that stupid compliment make pride swell?
She can’t see it, but it makes me smile.
“It’s been a process,” I say and chuckle. “Even Doc would attest to that.” I shake my head. “And so we talked through Tristan and my dad and . . . you.”
“Me?”
“You’re my safe space,” I whisper.
She looks up and her eyes shine with love that months ago I’m not sure I could have accepted. Now I own it proudly.
“Gladly,” she says and lets the moment sit for second. “But after you talked to her, you went and confronted your dad.”
“I did.” I nod.
“Why this time, Cole? Why now?”
My smile is sad. “Because after talking to Doc, we realized he was the culprit to everything. I mean, not that I shouldn’t have already known that, but .
. . my hand. It’s a reaction to the years of pressure.
A trigger telling me that it’s gotten to be too much.
And clearly, it was a tell to opposing teams—and Tristan—that there was a high probability I was about to fuck up.
” I exhale slowly. “She said the only way to try and get rid of it, to retrain my mind, was to confront him.”
“That had to have been a long, nerve-racking drive out there.”
“I almost turned around numerous times.”
“But you went,” she says. “And you confronted him.”
“Yeah.” The word scrapes raw. I clear my throat. “I did.”
“I’m here if you want to talk about it,” she says. “But I’m also okay if you don’t.”
She links her fingers with mine and squeezes. I stare at our hands for a few seconds and then I . . . let her in.
“When I walked in there, it felt like I was stepping back in time. And it hit me for the first time how I’m not the same person anymore who walked out that door.
” I pause and stare at the sunset for a few more seconds.
“I said what I needed to say. I was way nicer than I should have been, but . . . he didn’t magically become a different person.
I don’t know why the little kid in me thought he would.
But he didn’t. And he didn’t apologize or suddenly see the error of his ways.
It felt like I finally stopped carrying around this constant need for his approval. ”
Dublin’s thumb rubs back and forth over the back of my hand. “That’s huge.”
I look over at her as a breeze moves through the patio, stirring the loose strands of hair around her face.
God, she’s beautiful.
And not in the polished, intimidating way she was that first day in the conference room. Now it’s different—softer. More genuine. Mine.
The thought settles into my chest with terrifying certainty.
I kiss her lips and then rest my forehead against hers. “It’s time for me to focus on what I do best now.”
“Loving me?” she asks playfully.
I lean back and look at her, my chest swelling with love for her. “I stand corrected”—I grin—“what I do second best.”
Her brows lift. “Football, then.”
“Yes. Football. Winning. Getting this team to the playoffs. I know the tremor won’t be gone, but I’m pretty sure knowing that I’ve taken steps to begin the process will help from spiraling on the field like I was.”
“You weren’t spiraling,” she says, “but I get what you’re saying and that’s truly significant. Physically. Mentally. Welcome back, Cole Valor.”
I let her words take hold. And she’s right, I feel more like myself than I have in months. At the same time, I feel so very different. Free. Invigorated. Supported. Loved.
“Give up your apartment,” I murmur into the crown of her head. The words surprise me.
“What?” She leans back and looks at me. Blinks.
“Move in with me,” I say as her jaw falls lax. “I’m serious.”
“Cole . . .” Emotion flickers across her face too quickly to read.
“We practically live together already. Your stuff’s here. You’re here. I mean . . . not much has to change other than you admitting it.”
“I think you’re feeling good and want to ride on that wave,” she jokes.
“And I think I’m tired of worrying you’re halfway out the door.”
She stills and her brows pull together. “You thought I was going to leave?”
I huff out a laugh. “Trouble, I’ve considered hiding your apartment key at least six times.”
Her jaw drops. “You did not.”
“I have no shame.” I grin. “I absolutely did.”
“Oh my God.”
“I even figured out where I’d hide it. I was just lacking execution.”
She stares at me for half a second before she bursts out laughing. Full-body, can’t-help-it laughter.
Fucking hell, I’d burn down the entire world for that sound.
“You’re insane,” she says through the laughter.
“Probably.” I shrug.
“You were seriously worried I’d leave?” she asks as she shifts in the chair to straddle my lap so we’re face-to-face.
My smile fades around the edges. “Yeah.”
The simple, raw honesty sits there between us. Her expression softens as she tilts her head.
“Cole Valor,” she says, her hands sliding up my chest and into my hair. “After everything we’ve survived these past few months, what gave you the impression I was going anywhere?”
I consider how best to answer. “You’re still the smartest woman I know.”
She blinks. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It means eventually you’ll come to your senses.”
She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Too late.” She brushes her lips over mine. “I’m already emotionally compromised.”
I groan softly against her lips. “God, that’s hot.”
She laughs again but her expression softens. “Yes. I’ll give up my apartment.”
Relief. That’s what I feel. “You sure?”
“Very.”
“And this isn’t just because you’re drunk on post-scandal adrenaline?”
She smacks my shoulder playfully before cupping my face again and forcing my attention fully back on her.
Like it ever left.
“I love you,” she says simply. “I’m here. Stop waiting for me to leave.”
Jesus. I kiss her before I can say something embarrassingly emotional. Or worse—cry.
When we finally pull apart, when I’m done getting lost in her kiss that I’ll never get enough of, the sun has almost disappeared from the sky.
Dublin brushes her nose lightly against mine. “So our priorities are now adjusted. Us. The playoffs. More us. Figuring out life outside the fire.”
I grin. “I can live with that.”
Her fingers trace lightly along my jaw as my hands run up her thighs. “And Dr. Hawley?”
“Still plan on seeing her.”
“Good.”
“You approve of my emotional growth right now?”
“Immensely,” she says and kisses me again.
“You really going to go back to GIA after all this?”
She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “After all the work you did to get my job back?” Her brows lift. “I can love you and still do my job, Valor.” She bats playfully at my chest. “I’m absolutely going back.”
I laugh quietly. “There’s my girl.”
“No,” she says and grins. “That’s your investigator.”
And somehow, that sounds even better.