Chapter Fourteen Cole #2
As we approach the final stretch of the trail, the sculptures become increasingly abstract. There’s one that looks like a giant metal pretzel, one that might be two people embracing or possibly fighting, and one that I’m ninety percent sure is just a manufacturing defect.
“‘Unity,’” Hailey reads from the placard next to the maybe-embracing, maybe-fighting figures. “See? It’s romantic.”
“Or they’re wrestling.”
“Romantic wrestling.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
She shoves my shoulder playfully, and I catch her hand, pulling her closer. We’re alone on this stretch of the path, the nearest family a good hundred yards behind us.
“Hey,” I say softly.
“Hey yourself.”
“I think I’m really starting to like you.”
The words come out more vulnerable than I intended. Hailey’s expression softens, her gray eyes warm.
“I really like you, too.”
“Even though I landed us in swamp water?”
“Especially because of that.” She rises on her toes to kiss me. “I was thinking about it, and I’m starting to wonder if you and Jack weren’t in on it together. Did you do that on purpose to get me in the shower?”
“I would never,” I say, crossing my hand over my heart like the Boy Scout I’ve never been.
“Hmm.” She pulls back, assessing me through squinted eyes, then glances at her watch and sighs. “I need to head out soon. Shift starts at six, and I still need to grab dinner from the cafeteria and mentally prepare for whatever chaos awaits.”
The disappointment is immediate. I want more time. I always want more time with her. “Twelve hours?”
“Twelve hours of medical glamour.” She makes a face. “I’ll probably spend half of it convincing drunk people that no, they don’t actually need a CT scan for a stubbed toe.”
“Sounds thrilling.”
“It’s a non-stop party.” She squeezes my hand. “This was really nice, though. I needed it.”
“Me, too.”
We walk back toward the parking lot, and I try to focus on the warmth of her hand in mine instead of the growing awareness that she’s about to drive off alone.
The parking lot is emptier now. Two cars besides ours. A jogger finishing her lap. A guy sitting in a sedan near the exit, looking at his phone.
I study the sedan guy for a beat too long. Wrong build for Winters. Different car. But the positioning is strategic—good sight lines to the trailhead, easy exit onto the main road.
Stop. It.
Hailey notices, because of course she does. “Cole.”
“What?”
“You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you assess every human in a fifty-foot radius as a potential threat.” She’s smiling, but there’s a gentle warning in it. “The guy in the sedan is probably just waiting for his wife to finish her jog. He’s sitting there because he wanted a clear view of her while she ran.”
How did I miss that?
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
I don’t have a defense for that, so I just shrug. “Old habits.”
We reach her car, the duct tape as much a reminder of the ugliness it hides as a cover for it. My jaw tightens involuntarily.
I force the thought down and focus on Hailey, who’s fishing her keys out of her pocket.
“I’m getting a rental within the next few days,” she says, unlocking the door. “They didn’t have any available before my appointment to get it buffed out, so it’s this or nothing. It’ll take a few days to repaint, too.”
“It’ll be nice to drive something different for a while. He won’t be able to find you so easily.” I hate the words as they leave my mouth. They’re too harsh. Too real.
She kisses me, her hands coming up to frame my face. Her mouth is soft at first, then more insistent. When she pulls back, her eyes are warm and kind despite the rawness of my words.
“Thank you for today,” she says. “The walk, the deeply cynical art commentary, all of it.”
“Any time.”
“I mean it.” Her thumb traces along my jaw. “This is the most relaxed I’ve felt in weeks.”
I perk up at that. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She smiles. “You’re good for me, Cole.”
“You’re good for me, too.”
She kisses me one more time, quickly and sweetly, before sliding into her car. I step back, giving her room, and watch her start the engine.
She waves through the window, then pulls out of the parking spot. I watch her drive toward the exit, noting which direction she turns in, memorizing the route she takes toward the main road. It happens before I can stop it—the automatic cataloging, the mental mapping.
I get in my car and start the engine, hands gripping the steering wheel.
I sit there for a full minute, engine idling, watching the empty space where Hailey’s car used to be. Sedan Guy’s wife returns from her jog and climbs into the passenger seat. They pull out together, turning left toward the main road.
Not a creep. Just a guy waiting for his wife.
I exhale slowly, forcing my hands to relax. Then I put the car in reverse and pull out of the parking spot.
Left instead of right.
Home instead of the hospital.
It takes everything I have.
The drive back to my apartment feels longer than it should. Every intersection is a choice—I could still turn around, still catch up, still give in to the compulsion clawing at my chest. But I don’t. I keep driving in the wrong direction, away from her, trusting that she’ll arrive safely.
Trusting her.
It’s harder than it should be.
I park in my usual spot and sit in the car for a moment, staring at nothing in particular. I eventually head inside and lock the door behind me, which is when my laptop catches my eye from the kitchen counter.
Winters.
I could dig deeper. Find out where he is right now, what he’s doing, whether he’s anywhere near the hospital. It would only take a few minutes. I could look just closely enough to confirm she’s safe.
My hand hovers over the laptop.
No.
I pour myself a shot of whiskey instead and sit on the couch, watching the last of the daylight fade through the windows. The laptop stays closed. Another small victory.
She’ll text me when her shift ends. I can wait.
I can be normal for thirteen hours.
Probably.
Maybe I should text Tyler.
The drink burns going down, and I let myself sit with the discomfort—the not-knowing, the lack of control over her safety.
This is what normal people do. They say goodbye and they wait and they trust.
I’m not normal. It’s possible that I’ve never even known what normal is. But for Hailey, I’m willing to try.
Even if it kills me.
And it might. This woman might actually be the death of me.
But what a way to go.