35. Cole #2
I click the next story, and then the next, and then the next, every one of them another clip of her looking like she’s having the time of her life.
Her long blonde hair falling down her back while she dances and laughs, those lips I can still taste curved into a smile that makes something in my chest hurt, those sharp blue eyes I haven’t seen up close in too long.
I watch them over and over, my stomach dropping a little more every time.
Part of me is glad she’s happy. But there’s another part of me—the selfish part—that thought it would take her longer than this to move on. I sure as hell haven’t. I don’t think I ever will.
There is no getting over Aurora.
She’s it for me. The only woman I could ever fall for, and if I can’t have her, then I don’t want anyone.
I know with complete certainty that I’m never going to feel this way about anyone else.
I keep trying to remind myself I did the right thing. Sophie comes first. She has to. She’s my responsibility, and I can’t afford distractions. I can’t afford to need someone the way I was starting to need Aurora.
But fuck, I miss her.
I miss her voice. Miss seeing her in my clothes, in my bed. Miss the way she could get me to say shit I would never say, do shit I would never do for anyone but her. I miss her eyes. Her mouth. That sharp tongue.
I miss her so much it actually makes me angry.
It would be easier if I could just hate her and be done with it.
I squeeze my eyes shut and toss my phone toward the other end of the couch, but it slips off the cushion and hits the floor hard enough that Sophie jerks awake with a gasp.
“Fuck,” I mutter, blinking toward the shape of her in the bed as I push myself up and drag both hands over my face. “Sorry, Soph. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
She reaches over and clicks on the lamp, then swings her legs over the side of the bed and walks toward me.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I lean down to grab my phone off the floor. “Just dropped it. Go back to sleep.”
She wraps her arms around herself. “I can’t go back to sleep once I’ve woken up,” she reminds me, which shouldn’t surprise me because I’m the exact same. We grew up in the same house. I know exactly why.
I let out a breath and glance down at my phone, still open on Aurora’s page, my chest tightening the second I see her face again.
“Who’s that?”
I look up, realizing Sophie’s staring straight at my screen.
I lock my phone and shoot her a look. “Go back to bed.”
Instead, she drops onto the couch beside me and tucks her legs under herself. “You can talk to me, you know.”
I scoff and shake my head. “Yeah, I’m definitely not talking to my sixteen-year-old sister about my sex life.”
“Gross.” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m not asking about that. I’m asking if she’s your girlfriend.”
My chest goes tight. It’s such an easy question. Most people would answer without even thinking.
I can’t seem to do that.
For a second, I thought maybe she could’ve been. I wanted her to be.
“She’s not important. You are,” I say, and the words make my stomach turn because I know they’re complete bullshit the second they leave my mouth. Aurora’s important. Too fucking important—that’s the problem.
Sophie rolls her eyes. “You know you’re still allowed to care about someone else, right?” She leans back into the couch, twisting to face me. “I don’t want your whole life to be about worrying about me. I’m fine.”
Those words go straight through me.
Because that’s what I’ve been doing, isn’t it? Not just these past few days, but for years. Every choice, every plan, every shitty job, late night, and thing I told myself I could live without if it meant getting her out one day. It all comes back to Sophie. Always has.
And somewhere in the middle of all that, Aurora still got under my skin.
That’s the part that keeps screwing with my head.
I glance at my sister, swallowing hard. “You got hurt,” I say. “Because I wasn’t paying attention. Because I missed it. Because I was too busy—”
Too busy thinking about Aurora.
Too busy losing my mind over the girl who cost me my shot at getting Sophie out of that house.
Sophie bumps her shoulder into mine. “You didn’t do anything,” she says. “Dad did. He’s the one who fucking sucks.”
A laugh slips out of me, rough and tired, and I shake my head. “Yeah, kid. He does.”
She shifts and tucks herself into my side the way she used to when we were kids, when we’d sit through one of his moods in total silence and just wait for it to pass. My arm goes around her without me even thinking about it, and I stare down at the top of her head.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
She goes still for a second. “For what?”
“For not getting my shit together fast enough to get you out of there.”
She lets out a breath. “It’s okay,” she says, and the quiet, defeated way she says it damn near kills me.
No, it’s not. We both know it’s not.
“Only two more years, right?” she says with a little laugh that doesn’t sound real.
It could have been less. All I needed was one month to prove to the court I was stable enough, good enough to take care of Soph and get my sister out of that house for good.
One more month, and I let it all slip through my fingers for Aurora.
But even now, with Sophie here beside me, I can’t say I regret it. Maybe I blew my shot at custody, but Chase deserved to get his ass kicked then, and he deserved it now.
I look down at Sophie tucked against my side and wonder if I’d really change anything if I had the chance. If I could’ve swallowed the anger and put being smart ahead of wanting to protect Aurora.
I don’t think I would change anything about that night, though.
After a minute, she yawns, rubbing a fist against her eye.
“Alright,” I murmur, pushing her up. “You need to go back to sleep before you drool on me.”
She chuckles as she pushes herself up. I watch her shuffle back toward the bed, then glance down at my phone and tap Aurora’s story again.
“You should text her.”
I glance back at Sophie, who’s smirking at me halfway beneath the covers.
What would she say if she knew she’s still stuck with Dad because I got arrested trying to protect Aurora? Because I barely knew her back then and still couldn’t stop myself from stepping in. Because I couldn’t stand the sight of that asshole’s hands on her, and yet she still called the cops on me.
Would she still be telling me to text her?
Probably.
Sophie wouldn’t blame anyone but Dad.
I used to blame Aurora for what happened. Told myself she was a snake for turning me in, that she screwed me over. But Aurora didn’t make me hit Chase.
I did that.
That’s on me.
Not her.
I narrow my eyes. “Mind your business and get in bed.”
She laughs, the mattress dipping as she crawls back under the covers and reaches over to turn off the lamp.
I look back down at my phone, Aurora’s story still open on the screen, and my chest tightens at the sight of her face.
I open our text thread, my thumb hovering over the keyboard.
I don’t even know what the hell I would say.
I type I miss you and stare at the words, too small and nowhere near enough. Because yeah, I miss her. Miss her so badly I can feel it deep in my bones. But that’s not the point. Missing her doesn’t fix a damn thing.
I think about her standing outside my door with tears in her eyes.
I think about the way her voice shook when she asked me what was going on.
I think about how badly I wanted to drag her inside and tell her I was angry and scared and drowning and taking it out on the wrong person.
Instead I stood there and let her walk away thinking she meant nothing.
I delete it and start typing again, my thumbs flying across the keyboard because there’s too much I want to say.
That I didn’t mean any of it. That I’ve felt sick ever since. That I miss her so badly I can’t think straight. That I need her. That I love her.
I stare at the message, at everything I want to tell her—everything I’m feeling—and press send before I can talk myself out of it.
But it doesn’t go through.
I frown, look again, and my stomach drops when I realize she blocked me. I squeeze my eyes closed, tightening the grip on my phone.
Of course she did.
What the hell did I think was going to happen? That she’d get my pathetic three a.m. apology and suddenly forget everything I said on that doorstep? That one text would undo the look on her face when I stood there and tore right through her?
I let the phone drop onto my chest and stare back up at the ceiling.
Maybe it is too late. Maybe she really is done with me. But these last two days without her have felt like torture, and I can’t sit here and let another day go by without at least trying to get her to hear me out.
Because maybe Sophie’s right.
Maybe I didn’t have to shove Aurora away to be there for her. Maybe caring about someone else doesn’t automatically mean I’m failing my sister. Maybe it doesn’t have to be one or the other.
All this time, I’ve been acting like wanting Aurora was selfish. Like being with her would cost me too much. Like the only way to keep Sophie safe was to cut out every single thing in my life that made me feel anything good.
But maybe that’s bullshit.
Maybe I’m allowed to want something for myself.
Maybe I’m allowed to love Aurora.