I pull back a little and look up at him. “I felt all this rage inside me, Cole. I am afraid if he had gone further, I would have hurt him really badly. Like really hurt him.”
His gaze widens in surprise or shock at my admission.
“I have done it before. That scar on his cheek. . .I did that to him when I was thirteen.” I proceed to tell him what happened.
This is a make or break moment. My heart is bleeding raw emotions and there is no way to stop the flow. If Cole is meant to stay he will stay. I’d rather deal with the devastation in one go, than drag it out until later. He needs to know my brand of crazy.
“I’m so tired of blaming myself. Of him blaming me for something I had no control of. I needed, and still need, to get control of my life at some point without using pain as a way to have it. I promised myself I wouldn’t let him do any more damage to me. I don’t want my sisters to go through what my mother and I went through. So yes, I’m not above hurting him.” I bury my face in my hands and mumble, suddenly terrified of my own mind, “Am I crazy to feel this way?”
Cole cups my chin and tugs it up. “What did you say?”
“It feels wrong to admit something like that out aloud. Does that put you off? You must be shocked at least.” I add the last part because the boy is just sitting there calmly as if my admission is the most natural thing in the world.
Suddenly, he smiles at me and cups my face in his palms, brushing a thumb over my bottom lip. He stares into my eyes for what feels like forever, drinking in my face with just a look.
Then he drops his hands from my face. “No. You are the bravest girl I’ve ever met. I don’t know how you do it. I’m in awe. Yes, your mind is a chaotic place. But you know what? I want to be the one who calms your mind.”
I lift his hand to my lips and kiss his palm. “You need to go home and get some sleep,” I say, and then press my forehead against his.
“I’m staying here.”
This time I don’t protest. I need him. I also have a feeling it will take a monumental effort to uproot him from my room. My father is not here, and knowing him, he probably won’t be returning home tonight.
I climb out of the bed and lock my door, then rejoin him on the bed, curling my body into his. He slides his hand until it meets mine and links our fingers, then pushes my hair to one side with his other hand. He tucks his face into my neck and kisses me.
We stay like this, his breath feathering the hair on the nape of my neck and his fingers gripping mine as though he never wants to let go.
When I wake up in the morning, Cole is no longer by my side and the space he was laying on last night is cold.
“HOW OLD ARE YOU AGAIN?” I ask Megs, while lying on her bed Thursday after school.
I move my gaze from the white ceiling to the doily on the night stand and the two on the dressers. “Even my grandmother doesn’t have that many doilies.”
“Oh pssh. You’re just jealous.” She huffs and I laugh. “My Grams has a thing for doilies. Anyway. Stop avoiding my question. You need to talk to Cole. He’s going crazy.”
The hand holding the nail polish brush stops. I looks at her. “What if I carry that obsessive gene? What if I’m like my dad? Gosh, I don’t know.” I finally voice my fears.
“Listen, Nor. You are nothing like your dad. You care about the people you love. You don’t have a mean bone in your body.” She falls quiet for a few seconds, then says, “Does he know how you feel?”
I sit up quickly and stare at her. “My feelings?”
She laughs. “Yes. You love him.”
“Is it that obvious?” Oh. God. Has Cole seen whatever Megs sees when she looks at me?
She nods, closing the cap of the hot pink nail polish bottle and puts it on top of the nightstand and then stretches her legs and wiggles her toes. “You two gravitate towards each other like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Have you asked him to be your date at the Winter Formal?”
I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head. I should be excited about attending a school dance for the first time in my life. Instead, I’m worried that if I tell Cole about my dad and his mom, I might jinx us.
Crap. I feel as if the room is getting smaller and my breath is coming out in little bursts of air. I stand up and quickly hug Megs before dashing for the door. “I love you. I will let you know once I ask him,” I yell over my shoulder, while heading for the stairs. A hand grabs my upper arm before my foot hits the bottom step, halting me abruptly. I turn around to face Megs, her eyes soft.
“Call me, okay? I love you and all your weirdness.” She wraps her arms around me without asking me why I bolted out of her room. Without looking at me like I’m crazy. I return her embrace, my eyes prickling with tears and my heart aching with profound gratitude.