I go out the kitchen door into the backyard. There are still a number of people walking around, kids everywhere. I weave my way through and look for Cole’s familiar form. I have to find him. Have to explain.
My brain won’t stop. Because once I realize that I hurt his feelings, it makes me realize that Cole might want more from me than just sex. Otherwise, why would he be so hurt by this? If I was nothing more than a friend-with-benefits situation, he would have thought my idea was smart.
I didn’t just hurt his pride. I hurt his heart.
My own heart sinks straight to my feet, and I draw in a shaky breath. Make my way to his brother’s side. “Um, have you seen Cole?”
He studies my face for a beat. “Yeah. He just left.”
“What? Wait, really? He’s gone?” Panic wells in me, and I bite my lip and spin around to face the street. His truck, which was parked across from the house, is no longer there. Shit.
“I don’t know what happened,” Xander says in a quiet tone, drawing my attention back to him, “but he looked like he had the devil on his heels.”
“Do you know where he went? Did he go back to your parents’ house?”
“He just said he had to go and apologized for leaving early.” Xander eyes me with disappointment. “Don’t know what’s up with you two, but it’s tearing him apart, whatever it is. My brother cares about you more than you realize.”
My heart gives a painful throb. “I care about him, too.”
He shakes his head. “No, I don’t mean as just friends, Lauren. You need to understand—”
“Xander!” Rebecca calls out from across the yard. She’s holding James in one arm and clutching another kid with her other hand. “A little help here, please.”
“You don’t know where he went?” I press Xander.
“’Fraid not. Good luck.” He pats me awkwardly on the arm then takes off in the direction of his wife.
I plod back to my car and sit in it for a moment, reeling. Truth is sinking into my bones. About why I missed him so painfully the last couple of weeks—far, far more than I’ve missed any of my other friends during our gaps of seeing each other. About why I can’t stop thinking about him. Why I crave him beyond reason. Why I seek him out first before anyone else.
I love Cole.
I don’t know when it happened—if it all started because of that wild Wednesday night we were locked in the basement, or if deep down I was feeling it but didn’t know what it was—but at some point, my feelings shifted from thinking of him as my friend to thinking of him as much, much more.
I love Cole, and I think he might have real, romantic feelings for me too. Not just sexual. I reach with shaky hands and grip the steering wheel. I know he wants me physically—despite his declaration of our friendship back at the bar office, the way we had sex…he was aching for it just as much as I was.
If we become more, not just friends, not just sexual partners, are we risking it all? It’s possible, but every fiber of my being tells me I need to try. Because I can’t just pretend I don’t love him when I do. I can’t be satisfied with anything else.
The big question is, will Cole risk it all to be with me, after the way I’ve screwed things up? I need to get him to sit down and listen to me. I need to find the right way to make him understand how I feel, beyond a doubt, push past my fear and throw it all on the line. He deserves it. And frankly, I do too. I’m scared, but I can’t let that hold me back anymore.
I’m about to pull my car into drive, trying to think about where he might go and if I should follow him or wait until I know he’s going to be back at his dad’s, when my phone rings. I fumble to get it out of my purse, praying it’s Cole wanting to talk.
But the number on the caller ID startles me, and I almost drop my phone in shock. I manage to press Accept and say, “Hello?”
“Hey. You busy? I’d like to talk. If you…if you have the time, that is.” My sister’s delicate, cautious voice fills my ears.
I pause. I don’t know where Cole is, and I could spend hours driving around and not find him. Or I could meet with my sister and hopefully resolve the issue with us. Part of my chest aches at the thought of not chasing after Cole, but I know what the right thing to do is. “I’d like that. Can we meet for coffee?”
My stomach is a mass of nerves when I pull up at the coffee shop a half hour later. I take a moment to steady myself before exiting the car and walking through the front door. It gives a cheerful ding.
My sister is tucked in the corner table, sipping a coffee out of a paper cup. I’m too nervous to drink or eat anything right now, so I make a beeline for her.
“Hey,” I say quietly.