31. Cole
Chapter thirty-one
Cole
I see it happening.
Hell, I feel it happening, and there’s no way to stop it. My brother is never usually right about shit like this, and while he might be right about some of it, I won’t let him be right about the rest. I won’t let whatever this is with her become a distraction.
I’ve witnessed Jenna be vulnerable.
Sad.
Broken.
Disappointed.
She might wake up angry tomorrow, too, and I have a feeling she’d have every right.
And still, I feel it in my fucking chest.
The way my t-shirt is soaked with the tears she voluntarily let fall as her hands moved against my body to wipe them away.
The way she jolted awake, and instantly calmed the moment she realized I was still beside her.
I know things about Jenna that everybody knows. Things on the surface, and what makes her tick. But I don’t know the little things that upset her, the things that break her heart, and I have a feeling she won’t tell me, even if I ask.
What I do know is that she left for California intending to spend a week there, but came back not long after she arrived, after someone told her she wasn’t wanted. My gut tells me this has to do with her mom, but I’m not going to outright ask. She came back to Grangewood, no doubt to ignore whatever it was, and to just focus on her job. But I have a feeling whatever it was that set her off, it won’t be easy for her to get over—to ignore.
Putting the car in park, I turn off the ignition as I slowly turn to face her, unsure if she actually wants to get out and head toward the water, or if she’s hoping we just sit here in silence.
Instead, she does none of those things.
“I thought my mom was going to die,” she says quickly, and I open my mouth to ask what she means, and if she’s OK, but she continues. “Things between her and I have been strained since I was a kid,” she admits with a shaky breath, and I take her hand in mine, resting them in her lap.
She doesn’t shake it away, but I think a part of her knew I wouldn’t let her if she tried.
“What about your dad? I’ve never heard you mention him,” I say, watching her closely, but in reality, I never hear her mention anyone from her family at all.
I don’t even know if she has any siblings.
“He died in a car accident when I was five, so I don’t really remember a lot.” She smiles with a weak shrug, and I want to kick myself for bringing him into the conversation. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through her camera roll until she lands on the photo she wants to show me.
“This was me when I was three. My dad is the man carrying me on his shoulders, and my mom is the one beside us. The picture shows the perfect, happy family.” She averts her eyes from the screen, but mine remain glued to it. “Then my dad died two years later, and the family in that picture crumbled apart—ceased to exist.” Her dad’s features are similar to hers, but the Jenna I know now is a carbon copy of her mother.
The same blonde hair, soft blue eyes, and fair skin.
“I’m—”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” She waves me off with another smile. “For a long, long time, I wondered what it would be like if it were her instead of him. But after seeing her the way she was when I got back home, and hearing the word ‘stroke’ get thrown around so casually…” she draws a deep, shaky breath. “I used to wish my dad were here, because I knew that he would’ve loved me no matter what. But she didn’t. When he died, it felt like her love for me died, too—buried right along with him.” Her voice cracks, and her body trembles slightly.
“Is she dying?” I ask reluctantly, and she shakes her head in response. “You know that for sure?” I ask again, but this time she nods.
“She said they it was minor,” she replies, letting my hand go, hugging her knees up to her chest. “Am I a bad person for wishing that it was more?” She looks up at me, her eyes still red and glossy, eyelashes damp and thick as she blinks away more silent tears.
“I don’t know what your relationship was like with your mom, Jenna, but I do know that you wouldn’t wish that for no reason. You’d be there with her if she deserved for you to be.”
She sniffles, focusing her eyes back out the window.
“If I guess, will you tell me if I’m right or wrong?” I ask, and she laughs quietly, threading her fingers together. “My guess is, you came back because you realized your worth.”
She nods, and it hits me with just how little confidence she really has.
“You wanted to be there for her, but she said something that made you feel like you weren’t wanted.” I watch her, worried that I’ve said the wrong thing. It’s true, I don’t know what her relationship with her mom is like, and my assumption is met without a response for a long time. Until she opens her window, filling the car with a slight breeze.
“Does it make me a bad person for leaving her?”
I take her hand again, and she turns to face me. I make sure her eyes are locked on mine when I shake my head. “I’m sure you have your reasons for wanting to be here and not there.”
“God, I shouldn’t be unloading all of this on you,” she says with a sigh, rubbing her palms on her bare legs. “Cassandra is usually the person I go to for everything, but she’s off being happy and in love, so you were my next option.” She smirks at me, changing the tone and topic of the conversation, and I let her.
“Wow, what an honor to be second best,” I tease back, but she freezes at what I’ve said before realizing that I meant it sarcastically.
“You weren’t second, Cole. You were fourth.” She swats my chest with the back of her hand. Her mood suddenly shifts.
“Want to see what all the fuss is about with this creek?” I ask, and she takes a deep—a steady breath—before she nods, opening the car door and stepping out before I have the chance to open it for her.
We follow the sound of the water, using my phone’s torch for light, making sure none of us breaks an ankle on the rocks, before we finally find a flat surface to get comfortable on.
“What’s on your mind, Snow?” I ask, hoping it gets her to open up to me a little more. I feel like now that I’m slowly getting to know her, I need to know every little detail.
“My dad,” she admits with a sigh, picking up a tiny rock, throwing it into the wide, open bed of water in front of us. “I’ve already mourned both of my parents, you know? Because in a lot of ways, it feels like I lost both of them that night,” she says quietly, and I know she hates the fact that she’s admitting this out loud. “I just know he would have put me first where she never did. He would have listened to me and not forgotten I existed. I wouldn’t have scars on my body from shattered glass bouncing off the walls, or hospitalized because of hypothermia. I would have known what it felt like to grow up loved .” Her voice cracks at her admission, and my heart breaks knowing that hers has no doubt been damaged beyond repair by the one person who was meant to protect it—protect her .
I want to ask more questions, dig deeper into it and have her want to open up to me, but that’s not my role in all of this, is it?
“That’s enough sad shit from me.” She laughs awkwardly, shaking her head in disbelief, wiping the fallen tears off her cheeks one last time.
I throw my arm over her shoulder, pulling her body closer to me, and she attempts to push me away, but I squeeze her tighter.
I need her to feel like she’s safe with me, and I hope that whatever I can offer her at this moment… God , I just hope that it’s enough.
We spend the rest of the night refusing to talk about anything of importance, instead, watching the ripples in the dark, murky water.
“I hear there are sharks in there,” she tells me, dead serious, scrunching her nose up at the thought.
“I highly doubt that. But in case you weren’t aware, there are also sharks in the ocean.” I nudge my body into the side of hers and she laughs, loud and genuine this time. Relief floods over me.
She might not realize it, but she’s going to be OK.
And if she needs a constant reminder, I’ll tell her every damn day until she believes it.
Every day until you go your separate ways, I begrudgingly remind myself. It’s almost become my mantra.
“No shit, asshole.” Her laughter continues as she rests her head on my shoulder. “Should we head back? We may not have work tomorrow, but it’s kind of cold out, and in case you can’t tell, I forgot to wear pants.” She wiggles her brows at me, rubbing her hands down her bare legs.
Like I hadn’t noticed that her shorts are short, or that her singlet is white, low cut and her nipples are poking through.
I know what she looks like naked, and it’s been fucking difficult to not act on anything or touch her in the way I’ve been so desperately craving.
But it just isn’t the right time.
So, instead of admitting all of that to her, I nod in agreement. “Let’s go.”
When we finally make it back to our apartment building, it’s late; almost after four in the morning. Everything is eerily quiet, and all I can hear is the way my heart is hammering in my ears.
We walk into the foyer with her arm looped through mine, and I know that if Marv were here, she’d be walking at least a foot ahead of me, wanting no form of physical contact at all.
“Do you want me to come inside?” I ask as we stop at her door on the way to the elevator.
“Can you? I understand if this has been a bit much for you and we’re crossing the friends with benefits boundary, but…I kind of feel like I don’t want to sleep alone.” Her nose is red, her eyes are still puffy, she’s completely exhausted, and it’s physically impossible for me to say the word no.
Not to her.
Never to her.
“Is this something Cassandra would usually do for you?” I ask, and she nods once with no hesitation. “And you guys are friends, right?”
She nods again.
“Our arrangement is friends with benefits?”
This time, it’s a nod with a chuckle.
“Then I’m going to be the type of friend you need right now, no matter what that looks like. If you want me to lie stiff as a board on your couch while you curl up next to me, I’ll do it. If you want me to curl up next to you and stroke your hair, I’ll do it. If you want to talk my ear off about your childhood while sipping on margaritas, I’ll fucking do it. I’ll do whatever you want me to do, Snow. But I need you to tell me—” I pause and she laughs, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “Or, you know, if you want to take advantage of the ‘benefits’ part of our deal, I will gladly oblige, too.”
She shakes her head and takes my hand, her laughter continuing, and I know that whatever we end up doing will be exactly what she needs.
“Cassandra would do almost all of those things.” She closes the door behind us.
We’re friends with benefits who have been taking advantage of the benefits portion a lot lately, with the friend’s side hitting the back burner.
Not tonight, though.
Tonight, it’s the only thing we’re going to be.
“You’re telling me, I offered up all of these brilliant ideas on how I can be there for you tonight…and this is what you’ve chosen for us to do? I thought we were supposed to be sleeping.” I sigh in disbelief after our fourth-straight episode of some crummy reality show that she claims is her comfort series.
It’s almost six in the morning now, and I’m regretting offering to do anything other than sleep.
“It was either this or baking. I bake when I’m overwhelmed.” She sighs, pulling her throw blanket higher over her legs. “And I’m too wired to sleep.”
In the last hour, she’s told me all about how the show works, her favorite contestants, and who she hopes ends up together. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t slowly becoming my new favorite show.
She’s captivated me completely, and I now feel like I need to watch the very first season just so she and I can have another thing to talk about.
“You stress bake?” I bought her the mixer for her birthday because I knew she liked to bake, but I didn’t realize it was something she did when the world got too much to handle.
My arm comfortably rests on the back of her couch, my fingers tracing the bare, sun-kissed skin on her shoulder.
“It distracts me. I find it calming, but the place ends up looking like a tornado has run through it, and I’ll be honest, I’m not in the mood for a giant clean up.” She laughs, her eyes still focused on the tv, and I shudder. “Also…I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for my gift.” She tilts her head to the side and kisses my hand.
“Don’t get me wrong, baked goods are some of my favorite things in the world, but doing anything in a kitchen stresses me out. I’ll stick to eating whatever you bake, and cleaning the mess that comes with it.” I tuck a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear, and she nuzzles the side of her face into the palm of my hand. “And you’re welcome.”
“Cole?” She pauses the TV.
“Yeah?” I give her all of my attention.
“Thank you for spending time with me last night and this morning. I didn’t realize how much I craved the comfort and company of a friend. It’s exactly what I needed.” A lopsided smile crosses her face.
Friend.
No benefits.
Craved the comfort and company of a friend .
And while I’m grateful she holds me in such a high regard, I try my best to not show my cards, because for some fucking reason, disappointment is coursing through my veins, and I don’t know how to stop it.
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” I tell her, and it’s the honest truth.
She rests her head on my shoulder, and we end up watching two more episodes before calling it a morning.
I rise from the couch to leave, but she reaches for my hand. “Where are you going?” she asks, fingers threading through mine as she gently tugs me back toward her.
“I didn’t think you’d want me to sleep here,” I tell her honestly, my eyebrows pinching together as I stand in front of her, our hands still fused together.
“It’s late—early?” She corrects herself quickly. “And I know you don’t have far to travel but, just…go with it, okay?” She stands to meet me, her nose an inch away from mine. “Besides, I don’t plan on seducing you. I’m using you for your friendship, remember?” She steps away, and I already miss the warmth of her closeness.
I laugh out loud. “Right, my friendship,” I tease. “You’re not at all using me for my dick and all the orgasms you know he can give you whenever you want them.” I follow behind her to the bedroom.
“Added bonus. Besides, you use me for sex just as much as I use you.” She turns the light off in her room. The sun is rising, and I can make out her figure in the light that slices through her blinds.
She’s right, but God, is she also very wrong, and I’m only just beginning to realize it now.
She whips her dress off over her head, gliding bike shorts down her legs, and throws an oversized t-shirt over her head. She crawls from the edge of the bed, all the way to the head of it, before getting comfortable underneath her comforter.
She crawls.
Her t-shirt is hiked up ever so slightly, revealing the bottom of her bare ass cheeks, and I groan so loud in an attempt to not touch her. How I’m supposed to sleep next to her when I know she’s not wearing any underwear, I’ll never know.
“You’re killing me, Snow,” I tell her with a shake of my head, my fists clenched by my side as a smile spreads wide across her face.
“You climbing in or what, movie star?” Her voice is low and enticing, and I know she knows what she does to me.
“You seem to forget this is my first movie.” I climb onto the bed to join her, keeping the distance between us almost nonexistent. I would love nothing more than to bury my head between her legs or let my cock snake his way inside of her. But tonight isn’t the night.
I’m just glad the light is back in her eyes.
“You’ve been calling me ‘Snow’ since the night we met. I want to call you by a fun name.” She teases, inching closer to bridge the gap. “Before I realized who you were, my friends and I called you Mr. GQ, because you looked like you could’ve been on the cover at some point.”
“I was on the cover. It was my last shoot before I called it quits on modeling,” I state, and she rolls her eyes. I like that I was a topic of conversation between her and her friends, even before she knew who I really was.
“Of course you were.”
After a little argument, we settle on ‘Mr. Big,’ for obvious reasons. She protested, telling me all the reasons it was the ‘dumbest nickname ever’, but she eventually came around. Though, I think she agreed to it for reasons totally different from why I suggested it in the first place.
“The lines are looking a little blurry, Snow,” I whisper, hoping she can’t hear me, but I know it’s risky. Sleep might not have taken her yet, but I needed to get it off my chest. Her breathing remains steady, so I think I might be in the clear.
I hold my breath for a long moment, finally accepting that she’s fallen asleep in my arms without a tear left in sight.
As a friend, I’d call that a job well done.
As for the benefits part…I’d call myself confused, because I’m starting to believe that my brother was right on all counts.