I sink back down to the ground. “I’ll wait.”
My pride won’t allow the burden of exposure again.
His teeth grit. “Well, you’ll be waiting until tomorrow then. He and Finn have been sharing an entire bottle of bourbon between them. Most likely, they’re passed out on my couch by now.”
“You didn’t have any?”
He keeps his voice placid. “No, Princess, I’m more sober than a saint on a Sunday.”
This catches me by surprise for some reason. I’ve noticed he’s been cutting back, but I don’t know, it still catches me off guard. Something that isn’t distress or annoyance crossing his face.
He sounds and looks exhausted.
I snort, momentarily forgetting and my neck painfully reminds me that isn’t a good idea. Cole, never missing a thing, steps before me and squats. Tucking a finger under my chin as he lifts me back to standing.
His fingers press around my cheeks as he rotates my neck from side to side slowly. Examining me under more light.
“What are these?”
The weight of that one question like holding me hostage. Somehow those few words hurt more than that man’s hands around my neck.
Forcefully, I yank my head away, not caring about the pain when the hurt in his eyes is so much worse. The bruises I know are bad, they have to be with how his breathing grows more ragged.
My name like a curse as it pushes past his lips, a darkness I can’t explain shadowing his features.
Cole looks erratic while I’m just straining to not break down in front of him. I know he’s desperate to know what’s wrong. Fix it in the only way he knows how, but I just want to go home and forget this ever happened.
His stance widens and I know then that my time has almost run out. His patience diminished to the point of almost nonexistence the longer I stall. Giving nothing away.
“Stop being stubborn and tell me who the fuck did that to your neck and why the fuck they’re lucky enough to still be breathing.” His temper doesn’t dwindle, if anything, it continues to grow.
He looks at me like I’m the best and worst thing he’s ever seen.
“Can we just go home?”
Why can’t I give him a straight answer?Because you don’t want him to see you like this.Cole isn’t supposed to be here while I’m helpless and sitting on a dirt-covered road.
Pathetic and weak, that’s what I am right now in front of him.
“Please?” I beg.
“Not until you give me a somewhat decent answer. One that doesn’t involve you sidestepping.” He looks around, eyeing the area with distaste. “First, what is this place, and why am I, but more importantly, why areyouhere?”
“And?” I find myself asking when he hesitates, even though I already know what’s coming next.
“How did you end up with a throat that looks like someone played a game and used your neck as the dice?” His tone shrivels to nothing. “You lost, Rory. You fucking lost, baby.”
He sounds absolutely gutted. Destroyed. The hurt in his voice breaks, but it also equally makes me despise him. I loathe that he makes me feel these emotions when I want to feel nothing at all.
Eli would’ve taken me home, but not him. Cole makes me face everything head-on and right now, I hate him for it.
When I do look up at him, the anger I expect to find isn’t there. Before it might’ve been, but now, he watches me with a mixture of remorse and relief.
“Can you take me home?” I ask again, drowning from the outside in.
His lips smash together on a defeated, tight nod.
It isn’t until we’re pulling back up to the Caspers’ and I’m ready to get out that he speaks again. “Is this how it’s going to be between us?”