CHAPTER 17
Cole
My palms are damp against the wheel when I pull up to Quinn’s house. I draw in a slow breath, grab the things I need from the passenger seat, and step out into the fading morning light.
The house sags a little at the edges, paint on the weatherboards worn down to a tired grey.
One front step looks like it’s barely holding on.
But even with its flaws, there’s something quietly defiant about it, like it’s still standing out of pure stubbornness.
It’s not beyond saving, and I’m here to help her do just that. To help with whatever she needs.
I have to keep it simple: roommates, friends, nothing complicated. Even if part of me would give anything to make her mine, I’ll respect what she wants. Keep things chill. Pretend I haven’t been thinking about her for years.
The gravel crunches under my boots as I head to the porch, balancing the toolbox against my chest, groceries in one hand, and my bag slung over my shoulder. The door is slightly ajar. When I knock, it creaks open.
“Come in,” Quinn shouts from somewhere inside. “It’s unlocked.”
The nervous energy buzzing in my chest hardens into concern the moment I step inside and see her. She’s curled into herself on the couch, laptop balanced on her knees. A half-finished glass of rosé sweats on the coffee table, beads of condensation sliding down the stem.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She exhales, shoulders dropping. “I need to sign up for this design workshop, but… I don’t know if I can.”
“Why not?”
Her hazel eyes flick up, restless. “It’s been forever since I touched anything design-related. What if I’ve taken on too much? What if I ruin Avellana?”
I drop into the chair opposite her and meet her gaze. “You couldn’t ruin it if you tried.”
She lets out a weak laugh. “You say that now, but if I pick the wrong wall colour, I’ll never sleep again.”
“Then we repaint.” I grin, leaning back like it’s that simple. “Easy fix. What else?”
She sets the laptop aside, fingers worrying the skin around her thumbnail. “It’s halfway across Brisbane. Traffic, parking, it’s a nightmare.”
“I’ll drive you. Pick you up too.”
Her bun loosens as she shakes her head. “That’s too much. It’s way out of your way.”
“It’s not,” I lie smoothly. “I’m always out there for hardware runs.”
She studies me, lips pressed tight, eyes flicking over my face.
“Quinn,” I say, softer. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to. What else?”
She drags her hands down her face, muffling a groan, then drops them in her lap. “Fine. My tablet’s ancient. The apps crash, the software won’t load. I don’t have time to replace it. And I need it for the course.”
I let my bag fall to the floor and rifle around in it, the zip rasping open, loud in the quiet. Crossing the room, I hand her the tablet, still in its box. “Good thing I came prepared.”
She takes it and lifts the lid slowly, peeling back the box until the tablet gleams in its sunflower case. When she finally looks up at me, eyes wide, there’s wonder scrawled across her face. It knocks the air out of me. I’d give her a hundred more if it meant seeing that expression again.
“Cole. You didn’t.”
“I did. Call it a thank-you for helping me with Avellana. We give all our designers one, but I picked the case for you.”
Her fingers skim the sunflowers, tracing the pattern like it might break. “How did you… Sunflowers are my favourite. Sophie?”
“Something like that,” I say with a smile.
Because the truth is, I noticed her earrings that night at the bar, all those years ago. I took a gamble at the store earlier, and seeing the colour rise in her cheeks now is my reward.
“No one’s ever done something like this for me,” she whispers, unlocking it. “Guess I have to sign up now, huh?”
“Yep. Or I’ll do it for you.” I pick up the groceries and carry them into the open-plan kitchen behind her, giving her space to let the gesture sink in.
Her laugh follows me. “Okay, okay.” A few clicks later, she snaps the laptop closed. “Done.”
“Add your timetable to the spreadsheet,” I say, looking over at her. “I emailed it to you.”
She taps away on her phone and snorts into her glass. “You colour-coded it?”
“Someone has to be organised.”
Her lips twitch, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Cute.”
“Told you.” I tip my chin up. “But see, I’ve scheduled demo day for Friday.”
Her eyes spark, brighter now. “Finally. I’ve been dying to knock down walls.”
“Based on your last swing, I’m a little scared.”
“Hey, I already told you, I tripped and fell.”
“Mm-hmm.” I shake my head, a smile tugging at my mouth as I watch her try to defend herself.
Her wineglass is nearly drained, stem loose in her fingers. “Another glass?” I offer, reaching for the bottle.
“It’s okay, I can grab it.” She starts to shift forward, but I’m already pulling the rosé from the fridge. I return to the couch and tilt the bottle, wine glugging softly into her glass as she watches. “Do you have any red for dinner?”
“Yeah, I’ve got heaps.” She takes a sip, throat working, then adds quickly, “But we could order in. You don’t have to cook.”
“I like cooking.” I hold her gaze.
“Well then, I guess you really are better than the last guy I lived with.” Her tone is light, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She hides it with a longer sip of wine.
I head back into the kitchen, sliding the bottle back into the fridge. “I’ll unpack and start on it soon.”
“Okay. Let me know if you need anything,” she calls, shoulders loosening, already half absorbed in the glow of the tablet.
I hum and head down the hall, leaving her to finish setting up her tablet.
I step into the spare room, finding fresh sheets pulled tight over a decent-sized mattress, the faint scent of lavender drifting through the open window. Sunlight spills across the worn carpet, catching on the corners of the bedframe. She made it feel like home. For me.
For a long beat I stand there, heart thudding, before I begin to unpack. Until each folded shirt is a quiet promise: I want to stay. I want to be here. And she deserves more than she knows.