CHAPTER 44
Quinn
Irush into the bathroom, shut the door, and drop onto the toilet lid.
What just happened?
I have never been kissed like that. Not once. Not with that kind of intensity, like I was something precious and on fire all at once. Like he needed me, not just wanted me.
And then… God. The way he looked at me right before I dropped to my knees. There was nothing casual in that moment, nothing unspoken left between us. I wanted to take him in, to taste him. I was desperate to.
With Josh it was always a chore. Always something he demanded, always pushing my head down, making me feel like I owed him. I never craved it. Never him.
Cole hadn’t even asked. He just looked at me, like I was the spark that could burn him alive and he’d thank me for it.
And I walked away.
We said we’d be friends. We agreed. But how am I supposed to tell my heart to shut up when it feels like it’s already halfway down the road with him, skipping faster with every glance, every touch, even though he’s supposed to leave for a year any day now?
The closer he gets, the closer that goodbye feels, and my chest tightens with the thought.
I drag myself up, legs shaky, and move to the shower. Maybe the steam will burn this out of me, maybe the water will wash the chaos from my head.
The water crashes over my shoulders as I press my palms flat to the tiles, desperate for the scalding spray to rinse away the guilt clawing at my ribs, but it only seeps deeper.
My mind races in circles—what if he hates me now, what if tomorrow he won’t look at me the same? What if I ruined everything before it even began? Better to end it now before it has the chance to hurt more. Better to put distance between us before I need him too much.
My mind flashes back to the way he looked as I left him standing there, half undressed, brows drawn and eyes searching mine.
But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t cross that line and actually sleep with him. Not because I didn’t want to—and God, I wanted to—but because I know myself. If I had given in tonight, there’d be no coming back. No pretending we were ever just friends. No burying what I feel.
At least now, maybe there’s still a chance to forget, to shove it down and walk it back.
Maybe I’m just making this into something it’s not. Maybe to Cole it doesn’t mean nearly as much. What did he say earlier? “What happens at the hotel, stays at the hotel.”
But who am I kidding? He’s a guy, he’s not out there spiralling. To him it’s just sex, or whatever that was.
And yet… the way he touched me, the way he looked at me, I can’t shake it. That couldn’t have been casual.
And if by some chance he is, it wouldn’t matter. I’ve probably ruined it anyway.
When my skin is pruned and red from the heat of the shower, I finally twist off the water and step out, steam clinging to me as I grab a towel and wrap it tightly around myself.
I glance up at my reflection in the fogged mirror.
My face looks raw, eyes shadowed and heavy, carrying the weight of everything between us.
We still have a couple of weeks left of our arrangement.
How am I supposed to survive it? Nights of lying next to him, pretending nothing’s changed.
Days of pretending I’m fine while every look, every brush of his hand, sends me reeling?
I shouldn’t need him this much. I shouldn’t want this so badly.
But there isn’t anything else I can do right now except go out there. I clutch the towel tight to my chest and slip into the dark room, ruffling around in my bag for some PJs and pulling them on as quietly as I can, every rustle sounding too loud in the silence.
I use the light from my phone screen to slip into bed, the glow casting faint shadows across Cole’s face. He doesn’t stir. His breaths stay steady, one arm stretched out like he was reaching for something… or someone.
I give him the space and lie with my back to him, so close to the side I might fall off.
I don’t want to risk ending up in his arms in the morning, no matter how much a secret part of me aches for it.
God, what if I roll over without thinking?
What if he pulls me in while he sleeps? How would I even breathe through that?
A few minutes pass before I feel him shift. “Are you asleep?” he whispers.
I clutch the pillow tighter to my chest. “No. Can’t sleep.”
My throat is tight. My thoughts are anything but steady, tumbling over each other in a frantic rush. Don’t push him away, don’t ruin this more. Don’t let him see how close you are to breaking.
He exhales, the sound stirring the fine hairs along my shoulder. “Hey… are you okay?”
I hesitate, then nod. “Yeah. Just tired.”
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” he asks, rolling on his side to face me.
I freeze, staring at the dark outline of the bedside lamp. My mind scrambles for an answer, panic pressing heavy against my ribs. I can’t do this. I can’t lie, but I can’t tell the truth either. Better to keep it light. Better to make it smaller than it is.
“It’s fine. It wasn’t that big of a deal.” I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the bed to swallow me whole.
“It was a big deal to me,” he admits.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he says softly, “I’ve wanted to kiss you since that night at Avellana. And yeah, we said we were just friends. But that kiss? All the rest? It mattered to me. We can try to go back to the way things were if you want. I just… I needed you to know.”
All the scenarios I played out in the shower, and not one of them prepared me for this.
I imagined him brushing it off, laughing, pretending it didn’t matter.
I pictured myself feeling relief, like it would all just fade.
But not this, his honesty, his vulnerability, the way his words strip me bare.
I swallow hard, words coming slower now. “Cole, I’m not ready for anything serious. I didn’t think you were either?”
“I wasn’t,” he says. His hand shifts under the sheets, brushing against mine. “But then we kissed. And it changed something. I want you to know that if you ever are ready… I’m here.”
My eyes sting, and I blink rapidly, trying to stop the tears. Don’t cry. Don’t make this heavier. Don’t let him see you unravel.
“I don’t want you to wait for me,” I whisper. “There are women out there who’d be better for you.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, without humour. “It’s not about women. It’s about you. But if friendship is all you can give me, I’ll take it. I’d rather have you in my life than not at all.”
I roll away, blinking back tears. “Can we just… stay friends then? Just for now?”
“Yeah. We can do that.”
I wriggle, trying to get comfy, guilt trapped between my ribs. “I feel terrible,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more.” Sorry isn’t enough. It never is.
He doesn’t move. But his voice is gentle, rougher now. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay. Let’s try to sleep.”
I hug my pillow, feeling the ache swell in my chest. I didn’t mean to hurt him. But I think I already have.
“I don’t think I can sleep. Maybe I should take the couch.”
I hear him take a deep breath. “Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“Just come here.”
I feel him shift behind me, and then his arm slides around my waist, warm and strong. He pulls me gently back until I’m tucked against him, spine pressed to his chest, his heartbeat steady against my back.
And just like that, my storm quiets.
His arm stays around my middle. My breathing steadies. My mind clears. The silence stretches, but it’s not heavy. It’s a relief.
Being held by him feels more intimate than anything we did tonight. More dangerous too. This feels different from the mornings I’ve woken up in his arms, because this is intentional.
His chest is solid and warm against my back, his hand protective on my waist. And now I know what this feels like. How do I ever go back?
“I can hear your brain ticking.” His thumb strokes my hip through the thin fabric of my sleep shorts. “I want you in my arms. And we both need sleep.”
It should be weird. It should feel messy and confusing. But it doesn’t.
It feels like safety. And that scares me too, because safety is what I’ve always wanted, and yet the second I feel it, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let it go.
“Just tell me we’re going to be okay,” I rush out on an exhale.
“We will,” he vows. “It’s only weird if we make it weird. And I’m not going to. It was one night. We got carried away. We’re okay.”
His certainty is like a balm and a blade at the same time, soothing me even as it cuts deeper.
“Okay.” I say, voice barely a whisper.
“I’ve got you.”
“Thank you.”
“Close your eyes.” His breath stirs the hair at my temple, the heat of it mingling with the cool air of the room. “Tomorrow will be just like always.”
But I already know nothing about this is just like always.
“Are you sure we’re okay?”
Cole tightens his arms around me so that my back is flush to his chest, his warmth sinking deep into me. “Never been more sure.”
“Okay… I believe you.”
“Good. Now sleep.”
I don’t know what tomorrow brings, only that I’ll make the most of soaking up this feeling of being in his arms, because I can’t let myself get used to it.