Chapter 27 – Kenna-Present #2
Cole pulls back slightly, searching my face, his expression unreadable but gentle. “Why can’t I be more?” His voice is soft, full of something deeper than I expected. “I’ve wanted to be with you since the moment I got back into town. Hell, even before that.”
The words send a shiver down my spine, my heart pounding faster. He takes a deep breath, as though steadying himself before asking the question that hangs between us.
“I’m taking a risk here, Kenna,” he says quietly. “But I have to ask. Will you be my girlfriend again?”
For a moment, all I can do is just stare at him, emotions swirling within me like a storm. The feelings I’ve buried deep down for so long rise to the surface, and without thinking, I nod. “Yes.” The word comes out more easily than I expected, and it feels like a weight lifting from my chest.
Cole’s face breaks into a slow, relieved smile, and for a moment, everything seems right again. I lean in, pressing my lips to his. The kiss is soft at first, hesitant, but then everything falls away, and it’s just us. The two of us, reconnecting in a way we hadn’t in years.
A sudden burst of laughter snaps us apart, and we turn to find Cohen lingering by the armchair, his backpack dangling from one shoulder like he forgot he was wearing it. His grin is all mischief, eyes sparkling in a way that says he’s been watching longer than he should have.
“Eww!” he declares dramatically, scrunching up his nose before darting down the hall toward his room. His laughter trails after him, bouncing off the walls with the easy joy only a kid can pull off.
Cole chuckles under his breath as he watches him go, shaking his head with affection. “That kid,” he says, but there’s pride in his voice, warmth that settles in the space between us.
I can’t help the smile that rises—soft, unguarded, real.
It feels like something that was tightly knotted finally loosened, and my chest feels lighter than it has in years.
When I turn back to Cole, his eyes are already on me, and something shifts in the air—quiet, certain, almost tender.
It’s not spoken, but it’s there. The sense that whatever this is, it’s finally allowed to move forward.
As we settle onto the couch, the atmosphere between us feels different—softer, warmer, like we’re finally stepping back into the life we once shared, but with new understanding.
The quiet hum of the house surrounds us, the comfortable silence filled with the occasional sound of the house settling, Cohen’s distant laughter as he loses himself in his comic book, and the gentle clinking of the dishes we left to dry in the kitchen.
I can’t help but glance at Cole, who’s leaning back on the couch, his arm resting casually along the back.
His presence feels like home, like it always has, but it’s been so long since I allowed myself to admit that.
Maybe I didn’t know how to make room for him again, or maybe I feared what it would mean, of how much it would hurt if things didn’t work out.
But now, sitting here with him, I feel a strange sense of peace I hadn’t realized I’d been missing.
He looks over at me, his gaze soft but searching, like he’s trying to read me, to understand what I’m feeling. “You okay?” he asks, his voice low and gentle, as if trying not to disturb the fragile moment between us.
I smile, though there’s a hint of uncertainty in my eyes. “Yeah, just thinking.” I look down at my hands, the movement of my fingers distracted, fidgeting with the hem of my sleeve. It’s hard to admit how much I’ve missed him, how much I’ve missed us, but I know I have to face that truth now.
Cole leans forward, his elbow resting on his knee, his eyes locked on mine with that familiar intensity that always made me feel like I was the only person in the room when he looked at me.
“You don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready,” he breathes, his voice quiet but full of sincerity. “But when you are...I’ll be here.”
I feel a warmth spread through me at his words, a feeling of safety that I haven’t felt in a long time. My heart swells, and for the first time in years, I let myself breathe easily. Maybe we’re not all the way back yet, but there’s a chance. There’s always been a chance.
“I don’t know what this is, Cole,” I say, my voice shaky as I finally look him in the eye. “But I can’t keep pretending it’s nothing. You’ve been in my heart all this time, even when I tried to push it away.”
He says nothing at first, just watches me, like he’s trying to understand every word, every shift in my expression. His gaze doesn’t waver, and I feel like I’m finally being seen—truly seen. The weight of it all, the past, the pain, the love, is too much to keep inside any longer.
I whisper, “I’m scared,” the words escaping before I can stop. “I’m scared that as soon as I want you again, I’ll lose you for good.”
Cole shifts closer, his voice barely above a whisper as he reaches for my hand. “Kenna,” he says softly, squeezing my hand gently. “You won’t lose me. Not now, never.”
I look at him, the sincerity in his eyes striking me to my core. He’s here, and he means it. He’s not running away this time.
“But what if I’m not enough?” I ask, the vulnerability creeping in again, my heart laid bare. “What if we just end up hurting each other?”
He shakes his head, his thumb brushing over my hand in slow, steady strokes. “We’ll never know unless we try. And I’m ready to try. For you, for Cohen, for us.” His words are steady, sure, like a promise that he’s not backing down this time.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but my heart is racing. “What does that mean? Trying? What happens next?”
Cole looks at me for a long moment, like he’s searching for the right words, weighing his next step.
Finally, he smiles, a small, tender smile that reaches his eyes.
“Next? Well, we take it one day at a time. And if that means starting over, then we start over. Together. I’m not in any rush.
Just...being here, being with you is enough for me. ”
The simplicity of it all hits me, and I feel like I can finally breathe. I don’t need everything figured out right now. All I need is to trust that what we have is worth fighting for.
As I look into his eyes, I realize that it’s not just about what happened in the past, or what might have been. It’s about what’s in front of us now, about the space we’re carving for each other in this new chapter of our lives.
I lean forward slowly, my hand still in his, and I kiss him again, this time with more certainty.
The kiss is soft at first, gentle, like we’re both testing the waters, but it deepens as I feel his arms pull me closer, the familiar warmth wrapping around me like a blanket.
For a moment, the world outside doesn’t matter.
It’s just us—us and the quiet, the promise of something new, something worth fighting for.
When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathless, and I see the same mix of emotions in his eyes—hope, desire, but also a quiet understanding of where we are and what comes next.
“So,” he says, his voice hushed but playful as he runs a hand through his hair, “what happens now?”
I chuckle softly, my heart feeling lighter than it has in ages. “Now? Now we'll figure it out. Together.”
Cole smiles, his eyes softening. “I can do that.”
And then, after a beat, he adds, “Can I stay the night?”
The question hangs in the air, and for a moment, I hesitate.
I want him here. I want to feel the warmth of his body beside me, to wake up next to him and start the day knowing we’re in this together.
But there’s a part of me that’s still scared.
Still unsure of how quickly I should let him back into my life, into my space.
I glance toward the hallway, where Cohen’s laughter still echoes from his room, and my heart swells with emotion.
I look back at Cole, and the answer comes without hesitation. “Yes. Please stay.”
His smile is slow, genuine, as he shifts to make room beside me on the couch, pulling me to his side. As I rest my head on his chest, I listen to the steady beat of his heart, the comforting sound of him being here. And for the first time in so long, I feel at peace.
We’re not fixed yet, but maybe we don’t have to be. Maybe, just maybe, we’re finally heading in the right direction.
And that’s enough for now.
Later that night, after Cohen’s asleep and the house has gone still, I lay awake beside Cole. The lights are off. The hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen fills the silence, and I can hear the rhythm of his breathing beside me, slow and even.
My fingers rest lightly on the sheets between us, just touching his. I don’t move. I don’t want to break the spell.
How many nights did I imagine this? Not the perfect reunion, not some romantic movie ending—but this. Quiet. Ordinary. The night people take for granted. A second chance curled into blankets and warm breath and the knowledge that no one is leaving in the morning.
He shifts slightly, his hand finding mine in the dark, and I feel his thumb brush softly across my skin.
“Can’t sleep?” he whispers.
I shake my head, not realizing until then that tears are already pooling in my eyes. “I don’t know how to be this open with you again.”
He doesn’t rush to answer. He just holds my hand tighter. “Then let me remind you.”
And I realize then that it doesn’t have to be perfect. We just have to want it.