15. Chapter 15
Ihave not slept this well in four fucking years.
When I wake up, the first thing I notice is warmth.
Cole is wrapped around me completely — one leg thrown over my thigh, arm slung across my chest, face pressed into the crook of my neck like he crawled inside my skin while we slept.
His dark curls tickle my face, and his breathing is slow and steady against my collarbone.
For a while I do nothing but lie there, letting the unfamiliar peace settle deep in my bones.
My hand moves on its own, fingers threading gently through his messy hair, stroking slowly as I look down at him.
He looks younger like this. Softer. Twenty-seven freckles dust the bridge of his nose — I have counted them more times than I will ever admit.
They stand out against his golden-brown skin in the early morning light filtering through the curtains.
My chest feels too full, too warm. This is what I have been running from.
This quiet, devastating intimacy. And now that I finally have it, I do not know how I ever thought I could live without it.
I try to move carefully, untangling myself from his hold so I can slip to the bathroom, but the second I shift, Cole’s eyes snap open — panicked, still hazy with sleep.
His arms tighten around me instantly, grip surprisingly strong for someone half my size, like he could crush someone smaller without even trying.
“No…” he whines, his voice is rough and broken from sleep and everything we did last night. “Please… don’t go. Not again.”
I freeze immediately, one hand still cradling the back of his head. “Shhh… soroka,” I murmur, pressing a slow kiss to his forehead. “I’m just going to the bathroom. I’ll be back. I promise.”
But Cole refuses to let go. His arms stay locked around me, leg hooked tighter over mine, face buried deeper into my neck like he can physically stop me from leaving. I can feel the tension in his body, the fear that still lingers even after everything we shared last night.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Do you want to come with me, Cole?”
Cole, still half-asleep and clearly not ready to let go of me yet, actually nods against my neck. His arms stay locked tight around my torso, and he mumbles something sleepy and stubborn into my skin. “Not lettin’ you out of my sight… not again…”
I should probably argue, tell him it is only the bathroom and I will be right back, but the way he is clinging to me — like I might vanish the second he loosens his grip — makes it impossible to deny him anything right now.
I slide one arm under his back and the other under his thighs, then lift him easily.
Cole makes a small, surprised sound but immediately wraps his legs around my waist and buries his face deeper into my neck, refusing to let go even as I carry him through the apartment like it is the most natural thing in the world.
It is absurd. I am a 6’6” hockey player walking naked through someone else’s apartment at dawn with another naked man wrapped around me like a koala.
But it feels strangely tender, almost sacred.
Cole’s weight is warm and solid against me, his breath tickling my skin, and for the first time in years the constant knot of fear in my chest feels a little looser.
I carry him into the small bathroom, careful not to bump his head on the doorframe, and set him down gently on the edge of the sink counter so he can stay close while I take care of business.
He does not let go of my arm the entire time, fingers curled loosely around my wrist like an anchor.
When I am done washing my hands, I turn back to him and he immediately reaches for me again, sleepy eyes half-lidded but still watching me like I might disappear. I step between his legs, cupping his face with both hands, and press a slow kiss to his forehead.
“I am here,” I murmur against his skin. “I am not going anywhere.”
Cole eventually jumps down from the counter with a reluctant grumble, still hovering close like he cannot bear even a foot of distance between us.
He digs around in the cupboard under the sink for a moment before pulling out a fresh toothbrush, still in its packaging, and hands it to me without a word.
I take it, and we stand side by side at the sink, brushing our teeth in comfortable silence.
I keep stealing glances at him in the mirror.
His dark curls are a complete disaster from sleep and sex, his golden-brown skin marked with the evidence of last night — hickeys blooming across his neck and shoulder.
He looks thoroughly wrecked. Beautiful. Mine.
Every time my eyes drift to him, I feel that same tight pull in my chest, the overwhelming need to keep touching him, to make sure this is real.
Cole, on the other hand, has his eyes narrowed the entire time, watching me with sharp suspicion, like he is reading every micro-expression to see if I am even thinking about leaving again.
It hurts more than I expected — knowing I caused that kind of fear in him.
I reach out and brush my thumb along his jaw once, just a small reassurance, and his shoulders relax fractionally, though the narrowed look stays.
We eventually get dressed — me in the clothes I wore yesterday, Cole throwing on a pair of sweats and one of Lena’s old hoodies that is far too big — and make our way to the kitchen for coffee.
The moment we step in, we are met by Lena.
She is already wide awake, perched on the counter with a mug in her hands, grinning like a complete lunatic.
“Finally!” she exclaims, her eyes sparkling with pure mischief as she looks between us. “You two are very loud, by the way.”
I glare at her instantly, heat crawling up the back of my neck. Cole, without missing a beat, snatches a kitchen towel off the counter and hurls it directly at her face. Lena ducks, laughing brightly as the towel sails past her head.
Cole immediately launches into bickering with his sister, still half-asleep and clearly not in the mood for her shit this early.
“You are such a nosy little gremlin, Lena. Don’t you have tattoos to stab into people or something?
” he grumbles, voice scratchy as he moves around the kitchen like he owns it.
Lena just laughs, swinging her legs from her perch on the counter, looking far too pleased with herself.
I lean against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest, and watch them.
The easy, sharp way they snap at each other feels strangely warm in my chest. Family.
Real, messy, loud family. For years I have kept myself at a distance from moments like this, convinced I would only ruin them.
But standing here, watching Cole throw insults at his sister while she fires back twice as fast, I feel like maybe I am allowed to be part of this.
Cole starts making coffee without being asked.
He pulls out two mugs, then pauses and grabs the bag of dark roast I usually drink.
He makes a fresh pot just for me — strong, black, no sugar, the way I like it.
The realization settles deep. He knows. He has always known exactly how I take my coffee.
For me, he makes a whole new pot. Meanwhile, he fixes his own with way too much sugar and milk, reaching for the can of whipped cream on the counter like it is a requirement for survival.
Before he can spray it into his mug, I step forward and snatch the can from his hand, putting it firmly back in the fridge.
Cole does not even bat an eye. He just keeps stirring his overly sweet coffee like it is completely normal for me to take things away from him.
Like we have been doing this domestic dance for years instead of crashing into each other last night.
Lena, however, raises a single eyebrow, watching the whole exchange with sharp interest. Not at me taking the whipped cream away — but at the fact that Cole let me do it without a single protest. Her gaze flicks between us, calculating, and the corner of her mouth twitches like she sees far more than either of us want her to.
Cole catches the raised eyebrow from his sister and immediately goes on the defensive, turning toward her with fresh energy.
“Oh, don’t even start with that look, Lena.
I see you judging. Mind your own damn business for once in your life,” he snaps, pointing his spoon at her like a weapon.
“You’ve been waiting for this moment since the day you met him, haven’t you? Gremlin.”
Lena grins wider, completely unbothered, kicking her legs lightly as she sits on the counter. “I’m just saying… you let him take away your whipped cream without throwing a fit. That’s practically marriage in Cole language. I’m proud of you, baby brother. Took you long enough.”
I stay quiet, leaning against the counter with my mug in hand, taking slow sips as I watch them bicker.
My phone starts vibrating in my pocket. I pull it out while Cole continues arguing with his sister, their voices filling the small kitchen with loud, familiar affection.
The messages are from Elias and Damian, both asking for updates on the situation with Cole.
I do not even open the full texts. I just type back a single thumbs up emoji and send it.
Figure it out, you meddling shits. I slide the phone back into my pocket, the corner of my mouth twitching slightly.
Let them stew for a little while longer.
Cole looks at me mid-rant, checking that I am still here, and I meet his eyes with a small, steady nod. I am not going anywhere.
I set my empty coffee mug down on the counter and speak up in the middle of their chaos. “Little birdie… can we go home now?”