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Two is a Lie(67)

By:Pam Godwin


“Cole?”

The dark outline of his head lifts. I can’t see his eyes, but I can make out his slumped posture where he sits on the floor with his arms resting on his bent knees.

“What’s wrong?” I crawl across the mattress, closing the distance.

His inky eyes hold mine for an elusive moment before he rests his head back against the wall and stares at the ceiling.

Dread slithers up my spine. I slide off the bed and kneel beside him.

“Hey.” I trail my fingers along the tense muscles in his face. “Talk to me.”

His nostrils widen with a heavy inhale, and he clasps his hands in front of him, pressing his palms together, fidgeting. Then he finds my gaze in the dark.

“I’m just…” A swallow bounces in his throat. “I’m dealing with some shit in my head.”

I run a hand through his hair, my whisper shaking with nerves. “Like what? Why do you look so scared?”

He releases a sharp breath. “I’m terrified that one day I’m going to watch you walk away with the one who stole my dance.” His eyes cut away before shifting back. “You won’t even glance back at me, because you’ll be so absorbed by the life he gives you. A stable future, your career, his philanthropy. And the breathtaking smile on your face… I won’t be the one giving you that, either. That’s when I’ll know, when I’ll really truly know just how badly I fucked up the best thing I ever had.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up.”

“I left you!” He leaps to his feet, knocking into the dresser in his distress. “I deserted you, chasing some bullshit career—”

“It wasn’t bullshit.” My heart hammers as I stand to face him. “It meant something to you.”

“You meant more. Then and now. But that fucking realization is too little, too late.”

“It’s not—” Uncertainty fists my throat, choking my words. “You’re not too late.”

“Then marry me. Tomorrow. Be my life, Danni.”

My breaths grow shallow and panicky, and my eyes burn with moisture. I want to say yes. I want to scream it, because I can’t bear the pain contorting his face.

You’re trying to determine who will be less heartbroken.

“Cole, I…” I press a hand against my mouth, silencing the tears in my voice.

“Dammit.” He rushes toward me and envelopes me in a constricting embrace. “I’m sorry. I’m not pushing you. I’m just…”

“Scared.”

“Yeah.” He kisses my head, my temple, then my lips. “I’m afraid to close my eyes. Afraid that when I open them, you’ll be gone.”

“I’m here.” I press my mouth to the corner of his. “I’ll be here when you wake. I promise.”

“Okay.” He nods, and nods again, as if assuring himself.

With my hand in his, I guide him back into bed and pull the blankets around us. Eventually, his chest relaxes against my back, and his breaths even out. Only then do I let myself fall back asleep.

Just as I slip out of awareness, his hand clenches around mine, snapping my eyes open in the dark.

“You have my heart,” he whispers against my nape. “Please don’t hurt me.”





The next morning, I hang my head over the toilet and vomit for the third time in two hours. My guts cramp through each wretched heave. My body shakes and chills, and sweat saturates every pore.

“This is my fault.” Cole crouches behind me, holding my hair and rubbing my back.

“Shut up,” I say weakly and drop my brow to the toilet seat. “Just let me die already.”

“I should’ve made you stay in bed last night.”

“We were in bed.” I wobble my head, sliding him a look. “A lot.”

“You know what I mean.” Worry creases his face. “Are you done?”

“I think so.” I push away from the toilet and lower the lid. “I don’t have anything left in my stomach.”

He hits the flusher and pulls me to a teetering stand. “Easy.”

“Need to brush my teeth.”

He helps me, supporting my weight while I scrub the icky taste from my mouth. Then he lifts me in his arms.

As he carries me out of the bathroom, the doorbell rings.

I groan and rest my cheek on his shoulder.

“Expecting someone?” He heads to the bedroom and eases me onto the mattress.

“I messaged Trace an hour ago. Told him I was throwing up.”

“Fuck.” Cole sets his jaw.

“I told him not to come over.”

“And you expected him to listen?” He drags a hand down his face and takes in my thin tank top and panties. “I’ll get you something to wear.”