I felt sick.
When Cole returned, the concern was back on his face as he took me in, shivering. He handed me a mug of hot coffee. “If you like I can start the fire.”
“Not if you’re warm.”
His answer was to start the fire for me.
I smiled gratefully at him as he took a seat in the armchair under the bay window.
“So, what do you need to talk about?”
Attempting to control my nerves, I took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. “That day I told you you were nothing . . .”
Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Look, Shannon, we’ve been over that. It’s done. Let’s move on.”
“It’s not done,” I insisted. I was so scared at the thought of telling him about what I’d fled from in Glasgow, but at the same time I needed to open myself up to him if we were going to have any chance at real friendship. “For once I’m not going to be selfish with you. You deserve the truth even if I don’t want to tell it.”
Cole scooted forward on his seat, eyebrows drawn together. “Shannon, what’s this all about?”
“I’m not here to dump my problems on you. But I need to explain something about why I came to Edinburgh so you can understand why I said what I said to you and why, in the end, it really had nothing to do with you.”
When he waited patiently, I continued. “I’m not a judgmental person, Cole. Not really. In fact, I’ve been known to forgive people even when their actions are beyond the point of forgiveness. I’ve always accepted people for who they are, always believing there was something special in everyone, something that others couldn’t see. And every time I’ve done that with the men in my life I’ve been proven wrong and everyone else right.”
“Shortcake, I’m not following.”
“I’m a bad-boy magnet,” I said with no humor, because as silly as it sounded out loud it was true. “A player magnet. To start there was a lead singer in a rock band who cheated on me, the biker who cheated on me, the secret drug dealer who stole from me, and my last boyfriend—the pièce de résistance. We were together for two years and his name was Ollie. He worked in a restaurant by day and was a drummer in a band at night. Tattooed, good-looking, cocky, charming, confident . . .”
An understanding was beginning to dawn in Cole’s eyes.
“Before Ollie, I’d already pissed off most of my family with the choices I’d made when it came to men. I’d been hurt so many times they believed it was my own fault, and I don’t think they’re necessarily wrong. They predicted Ollie would be a disaster, but I was so sure he was different from all the rest. He was romantic and into me, and to begin with he made me feel really special. Until slowly that started to change.
“It was so subtle it took me a really long time to even realize what he was doing to me. How he had started to chip away at pieces of me. He belittled me, made me feel talentless and stupid. He made me feel like it was a miracle I’d managed to land him.”
“He was a dick,” Cole snapped.
“Like I said, I didn’t even know it was happening or how much he emotionally manipulated me into constantly choosing him over my friends and family. Almost two years—that’s how long it took me to wake the heck up.
“It was so stupid,” I whispered, feeling the pain in my gut and in my chest. In fact, I ached all over with the memories. “It was a stupid thing that made me wake up. I was supposed to be going out that night with the girls. I hadn’t seen them in a while and I was always blowing them off for Ollie. So I was excited and all dressed up.
“Ollie came into the bedroom. He told me I looked like a whore, which was his favorite word weapon. It hurt, like always.”
Lifting my gaze to Cole, I sucked in my breath at the blaze of anger in his eyes. He gave me a taut nod of his head in a gesture to carry on.
“I changed my clothes and gave him the silent treatment. He tried to placate me. And then somehow like always he manipulated me, attempting to make it out as though I was choosing my friends over him when he needed me. He’d had a bad day at work or something and he just wanted a quiet night in with me. So I blew the girls off. They were beyond annoyed. Like, no-longer-speaking-to-me annoyed. And then a while later he said he was going out with the band.
“I was so angry. I never argued with him, but I was so, so mad at him that night that I let him have it.” My eyes held Cole’s as I silently tried to prepare him. “Ollie didn’t say anything. He just swung his arm out and backhanded me across the face. He’s six foot and a drummer. I went flying across the room and caught my hip on the coffee table as I went down.”
“Shannon . . .” Cole’s teeth were gritted and he was rising from his chair, but I halted him with tears in my eyes.