CHAPTER 45
Cole
Iwake up and reach out instinctively, but Quinn's side of the bed is cold. The sheets are rumpled, faintly warm, and her clean floral scent lingers on the pillow like she’s only just slipped away. A hollow ache spreads through my chest before I even open my eyes.
When I finally do, I reach for my phone on the nightstand. The cool glass slips beneath my fingers as I swipe the screen awake. A notification from Quinn lights up the display: I’ve gone downstairs to save us a seat for breakfast.
Part of me hoped she'd still be here, curled up in the same spot she fell asleep. After last night… I don’t know what I expected. But I can’t pretend it didn’t mean something.
The thought circles in my chest, sharp and insistent, pulling me into the memory of her touch. I hold on to it, reminding myself why I spoke up, why I had to be honest. She needed to hear that I didn’t regret a single second of what happened.
If all she wants is friendship, I’ll take it. But she needs to know last night mattered to me, and I’m not pretending I didn’t feel it just because I’m meant to take off for a year.
Truth is, a small part of me wants to ask her to come with me, tell her we could figure it out together, but I don’t even know if that thought’s crossed her mind. I just couldn’t let her walk away thinking I regretted a single moment.
Still, it doesn’t make it easier to stop thinking about her. Her breathy moans against my neck. The way her body reacted to my touch. Her fingers tugging at my shirt. The way she looked up at me just before—
I groan and drag a hand down my face before heading for the shower. The spray is hot and harsh, steam rising around me. I’m still hard, jaw tight as I brace an arm against the slick tiles, water pounding over my shoulders.
I work my fist over myself in a rough rhythm, steam blurring the edges of my vision. Every pulse of heat in my body drags me back to her—the way her hips rocked against my hand, the urgent grip of her fingers in my shirt, her soft gasp when I found that perfect spot.
The memory coils tight in my gut, pulling me closer, until the pressure is almost unbearable. My release tears through me, shuddering out as I orgasm.
It wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t even sex at all. It was something else entirely, a spark that lit me up from the inside out. It was a connection, real and raw, so intense it almost scared me.
But it didn’t scare me. It felt so natural, so right. Everything I’d ever wanted and more. I’d hoped she felt the same way too, but deep down I know she doesn’t, or at least isn’t ready to, and I’ve made peace with that.
After I towel off, I change quickly into my spare shorts and plain white tee, grab the key card, and head downstairs to find her.
I enter the buffet and spot her sitting at a small corner table, two coffees waiting in front of her. The hum of the dining room surrounds her, the scrape of chairs, clinking cutlery, the low chatter of other guests, but she’s the only thing I see.
Her posture stiffens the moment she notices me, and I notice her picking at the skin around her thumbnail.
A flicker of nerves crosses her face, gone almost as quickly as it appears, but enough to make my stomach dip.
Panic tugs at me. Did last night push her too far?
Did I ruin the fragile balance between us?
For a heartbeat, I hesitate at the edge of the table, not sure if sitting down will only make it worse. Then she slides one of the coffees toward my side.
“Morning.” She forces a quick smile, a little shaky but real enough. I catch the way her fingers fidget with the rim of her cup, nerves still flickering beneath the surface, and my chest tightens with the worry that I’ve ruined things.
“Morning,” I say, flashing her an easy smile while keeping my tone light as I take a long sip of coffee, hoping to smooth over the tension that's lingering between us.
She tilts her head, studying me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep past six,” she says, tapping her phone screen to show me it’s gone nine.
“Guess you finally wore me out.” I wink, laying on the charm, and watch with relief as her cheeks flush a deep pink and she covers her face with her hands. The nerves flicker away, replaced by something warmer. I made a promise last night that today would feel normal, and I intend to keep it.
“Shut up,” she mumbles through her fingers. “You’re impossible.”
“I know,” I smirk, then lean closer, lowering my voice. “But you like me that way.”
Her hands drop just enough for me to see her roll her eyes, though a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Unfortunately.”
I chuckle and take a sip of my coffee. “Should we eat?”
“Yeah, I’m starving,” she says, eyeing the buffet stacked high with everything from pastries to eggs to smoothies.
I bite back the urge to make another joke about working up her appetite last night and instead settle on “Sounds good.”
We head over to the buffet, and when she passes me a plate, her fingers brush mine for just a second longer than necessary—a familiar jolt of electricity sparks up my arm.
The smell of bacon and fresh pastries drifts around us, buttery and rich, mingling with the sharp tang of fresh coffee and the faint sweetness of syrup. I watch as she grabs one of everything, balancing her plate with a gleam in her eye, as if she’s determined to taste the entire spread.
Once we’ve piled our plates high and balanced glasses carefully in our hands, we weave back through the crowd, the clatter of cutlery and hum of voices following us to our table.
“These are amazing,” Quinn says around a bite of her chocolate croissant, flakes dusting her fingers. She licks a crumb from her lip, and before she can stop me, I reach over and swipe one of the smaller pastries off her plate.
“Hey! Get your own.” She narrows her eyes, though she’s fighting a smile.
“You had half the buffet on your plate, Q. Sharing is caring.”
She shakes her head, then snatches my little jar of maple syrup and tips most of it over her pancakes, the amber stream glistening in the light.
“Hey!” I protest, reaching for it too late.
“Now we’re even.” She sends me a cheeky smile, fork poised before taking a smug bite. “Mmm, much better.”
I shake my head, sawing into my dry pancakes. But the sight of her grin, bright and victorious, is worth it.
She wipes a drop of syrup from her lip, takes a sip of coffee, and then tilts her head toward me. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask, have you heard from Kass?”
The question surprises me, but I nod. “Yeah. She texted the morning after the opening, but I didn’t know what to say, so I left it.”
I slide my phone across the table so she can read the message. She lifts her brows, a silent question flickering in her eyes as her fingers hesitate before she picks it up.
“Oh, it’s locked,” she says, handing it back to me with the screen facing up.
“Code’s 78466.”
A tiny part of me worries, after I tell her the code, that she’ll type it in and realise it’s her name. I chose it because I wanted a password I wouldn’t forget. One that made me smile every time I typed it in.
She hesitates, thumb hovering over the lock screen. “You sure?”
“Why not?”
“What if there’s something you don’t want me to see?”
“Like what?” I ask, confused, leaning forward on my elbows.
"Like… messages from other girls.”
“Nope, none of those. Honestly, I only really text you, Chad, and the guys from work.”
She laughs softly, the sound small but real. “So no unsolicited nudes?”
“I really hope not.” I groan, running a hand down my face. “Unless you sent me one.”
“Nope… But I think you got enough of a view last night,” she says, grinning, her teeth catching her bottom lip.
“So much better than a photo,” I say, raising my brows.
“Oh my God, stop,” she whispers, kicking my leg lightly under the table. “Someone might hear.”
“Okay, okay. I promise I won't bring it up again.”
“Great, thanks—”
“In public,” I add quickly.
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, but the corner of her mouth twitches. “What was I even doing again?”
I have no idea. My brain’s still caught in the sound of her voice, the soft way she said my name last night, that breathy hitch when I kissed the spot just under her jaw.
She glances down at my phone in her hands, as if suddenly remembering she’s still holding it.
“Oh, right. Kass,” she murmurs, her thumb pressing the code before the phone unlocks with a soft click. Her eyes skim the screen, lingering on the message: Good seeing you last night, baby. Hope to see you again. Miss you xx.
Her voice comes out clipped, a brittle edge beneath the sarcasm. “Baby? Cute.” She pushes the phone back across the table and curls her fingers around her mug, tapping once against the ceramic.
I shrug, taking a slow sip of coffee, though my stomach knots. “And what did Josh call you?”
She snorts. “Q-tip.”
“Why?”
“He’d always say I talked his ear off.” She shrugs, brushing the flakes of her pastry from her fingers as she finishes the last bite. I feel my jaw tighten, a dull thud in my chest before I force a laugh.
“Romantic,” I deadpan.
She smirks into her mug, voice dry. “Yeah, every girl dreams of being compared to a cotton swab.”
I don’t want to keep pushing the subject of her ex, so I ease off. I take another sip of coffee, searching for something lighter, and let the conversation drift back to Kass, shifting the focus to my own mess instead.
“I should’ve deleted it,” I admit. “I didn’t want to make things weird.”
Her gaze softens, the sarcasm fading. “You didn’t. I—” She exhales, shaking her head. “I hate how easily the past tries to show up.”
I nod. “Then let’s leave it here,” I say, taking the phone back and deleting the message.
She smiles back at me, a flicker of relief softening her face. By the time we stand to leave, everything between us feels lighter. But underneath it, I’m too aware of how close we walk, how her hand brushes mine once, twice. I want to reach for her, to make it something more. But I can’t. Not yet.