45. Riley
I can’t believewhat I’m hearing. I stand frozen, stunned and stung, shaking my head.
I know that this isn’t my fault. It was a freak accident; it could’ve happened to any of the kids at the park. It wouldn’t have been right to try to stop Archie from playing with his friends, and nobody could have predicted that things would go wrong like this.
Cole was there, too. If he thinks it was so preventable, why didn’t he take action?
He’s hurting, I tell myself. He’s stressed. He just had to see his kid in pain. That’s the worst thing anyone could feel.
But that doesn’t excuse the bite in his tone, or the coldness in his glare. He may be struggling with this, but it doesn’t give him the right to be an asshole.
“I… these things happen,” I say falteringly, trying to get my feet back under me. “Sometimes kids get hurt.”
Cole says nothing. I can practically feel the coldness radiating off of him in waves. This is far, far worse than it ever used to be, even back in the days when he barely spoke to me.
I decide to keep trying. “Archie is going to be okay, but Cole, listen—you can’t somehow make sure that he never, ever gets hurt. It’s called growing up—being alive. You can’t ever be totally safe.”
Cole’s head whips toward me, his eyes blazing. I take a step back, defensive. “Why are you deflecting?” he growls. “Quit trying to downplay it. It could’ve been even worse.”
“But it wasn’t,” I say, aghast. “This isn’t that big of a deal. Plenty of kids break their arms playing. It’s a normal part of childhood.”
“Archie could’ve broken his neck. Of course it’s a big fucking deal.”
“You don’t have to take that tone with me,” I say, my throat going tight. “And I don’t know why you’re pinning this on me. We were both there.”
“Sure, but it was your job to be watching Archie. The whole thing should have never happened—if you saw him playing unsafely, you should’ve been there to stop him!”
“I’m not omniscient!” At this point, I’m having trouble keeping my own anger out of my voice. I never want things to escalate to a fight, but my emotions are rising out of my control. “I can’t be in two places at once!”
“Well, maybe there was only one place you should have been,” Cole replies, his voice dropping.
I blink, unsure what he’s suggesting. “You don’t need to find someone to blame,” I say, rather than responding directly. “This is just… something that happened. It was random, and it sucks, but at the end of the day, it’s—”
“Don’t say it’s fine!” Cole interrupts. He glowers at me, fixing me with a look that I’ve never seen on his face before. He looks furious enough that I almost expect his gaze to sear. “It’s not fine. This is completely unacceptable.”
“Cole,” I say, exasperated. “This is well within the normal parameters of parenthood. I’m sorry, but it’s just part of raising a kid.” I pause, breathing heavily, then add sharply, “I don’t appreciate you insinuating that I’m a bad caretaker for Archie.”
“You weren’t watching him, and he broke a bone,” Cole snaps. “How else am I supposed to understand that?”
“You were there, too!” My hands shake. We’re starting to go in circles, the surest sign of a full-blown, bona fide fight.
“Yes, but I wasn’t on the clock. I wasn’t working.” He takes a deep breath, trembling with anger and tension. “You should have been watching Archie, because that’s what I pay you to do.”
Cole’s words knock the wind out of me. Is that all he thinks I do in his life? Is that all he thinks I was doing at the park, when the two of us were sitting beneath the shade of an oak tree, enjoying each other’s company and the scandalized stares of the other parents?
I close my eyes, transported for a moment back to the park, to the sun-dappled picnic blanket and the soft touch of Cole’s lips on my cheek.
Everything went wrong so quickly.
My eyes snap open, and I glare defiantly right back at him.
“I’m good at what I do,” I say, my voice like ice. “And I’m not just some distraction.”
Before Cole can reply, the door to the examination room swings open, and the doctor leans her head out into the hallway.
“The two of you can come back inside,” she says conversationally, as if she doesn’t even notice the tension hanging in the hall.
Cole gives a rigid nod, like a soldier, and files back into the room. For a few moments, I stand alone out in the hallway, trying to catch my breath and compose myself. I don’t want Archie to be able to tell that I’m upset; he’s had enough stress for one day.
“So, our good pal Archie is good to go,” says the doctor, clapping a hand on Archie’s back. Archie’s tears have dried somewhat; the doctor must have given him some painkillers. He’s sporting a cast on his broken arm that extends past his elbow. The bandage wrapping it is a lime green color that I suspect he chose himself.
“Are you feeling okay?” Cole asks Archie quietly, approaching the table. Archie looks up at him and nods, holding up his arm in the cast.
“They gave me green.”
“That’s great,” Cole says.
“I’m gonna ask my friends at school to sign it,” Archie says, his voice still a little feeble. “And draw pictures on it.”
“That will be fun. But for now, let’s get you home, and get you some rest. You must be tired.”
Archie tries to shrug, wincing as he shifts his injured arm. He scoots off of the table.
We head out to the waiting room, where Cole checks out at the reception desk.
The receptionist assures him that he will be receiving the bill in the mail, and that a follow-up appointment has been scheduled with the doctor in three weeks to determine if Archie has healed enough to remove the cast. It might have to stay on a little longer if the x-rays don’t show improvement.
The entire time, Cole’s face is stiff, his eyes sharp enough to cut. The fact that he’s being so tender and gentle with Archie—so careful, like he’s worried a normal speaking volume might hurt him—only serves to make me feel even worse.
By the time we get to the car, I’m feeling like absolute shit, and I know that it can only get worse from here.
When we arrive home, Cole immediately takes Archie upstairs. I linger in the foyer, uncertain as to whether I should follow them up and wish Archie a good night. Ultimately, I decide that I should probably avoid Cole if I can help it.
I sit in the kitchen, at the granite island, staring at my own hands until Cole reappears in the doorway.
Immediately, I sit upright. “Is Archie okay? Is he in bed?”
Cole nods, but says nothing. He strides past me without looking at me, and my heart sinks into my stomach.
“Cole?” I get up from the counter, hesitantly taking a step after him.
He walks to the dining room table, picks up his laptop, and balls up the charging cable. He tucks the device under one arm and stalks back toward the foyer, still not meeting my gaze. There’s a hard set to his jaw.
I want to reach out and stop him, to put myself in the path of his determined march to the stairs, but I know better than to do that. It would only spark an even worse fight, one that won’t be interrupted. One where we would both have all the time in the world to make each other hurt.
I stand motionless, listening to the sounds of Cole’s footsteps receding up the stairs. I follow him at a safe distance, waiting, wondering what he’ll do—where he’ll go.
After a few seconds, I hear the slam of his bedroom door. I close my eyes, feeling like I might wither into nothing.
I stay downstairs for another five minutes or so, desperately hoping that he might regret his anger and come downstairs to reconcile with me. Eventually, I can hardly stand it anymore. I start to feel pathetic, no longer able to hold in my tears.
I rush upstairs to my room, ducking inside and locking the door behind me so that neither Cole nor Archie will accidentally see me crying. Then the floodgates open.
I crumple to the floor, my arms hugging around my own torso, and cry.
After a few minutes of crying on the floor, I manage to haul myself up onto the bed, where I curl up, holding my knees to my chest.
I need to talk to someone about this—anyone.
My first thought is that I should ask Noah if he’ll be around tomorrow, and go over to his place. After all, he’s right next door, and who better to comfort me than my brother?
Then I remember the warning he gave me, and immediately think better of it. I promised Noah that this thing between me and Cole was nothing serious; if I show up at his place tomorrow with puffy eyes and a tear-stained face, I’m going to get the I told you so speech, and that will only make me feel worse.
No. It’s not a brother’s comfort I need right now.
I pull my phone out of my jeans pocket, wiping my eyes just enough to see the screen, and start a new text to Olivia.
ME: I’m worried it might be over. Something terrible happened and we got in a huge fight.
ME: It was awful. Archie broke his arm, and Cole thinks it’s all my fault. I don’t know what to do, but he won’t talk to me.
ME: I feel like absolute shit.
I toss the phone onto my nightstand, then flop back against the down pillows, staring up at the high ceiling. Hopefully, Olivia will see my texts and give me a call tomorrow morning before I go downstairs to work.
I roll over onto my side. The tears won’t stop, even as I close my eyes and let sleep take me.