Page 48 of Cole

“When do you get back to LA?” Annie asked.

“We fly to Charlotte tomorrow to play on Thursday, then fly back to LA after the game. I should get in late Thursday night.”

“That’s good. I’m sure you’ll be glad to be home.”

“Yeah. These away trips aren’t as much fun as they used to be. I’m getting old.”

Annie gave a laugh, which led to a cough. “You’re not that old.”

“Tell that to my body.” Cole groaned as he shifted positions. “I’m sure you saw I hit the floor more than once tonight.”

“I did see that,” Annie said. “Made me wince.”

“I’m going to feel it in the morning.”

“Hopefully not too badly.”

“We can feel yuck together,” Cole said. “Both of us dealing with aches and pains. Though I’m sure you’re feeling worse than me.”

“We can commiserate with each other.” Annie’s voice softened. “I’ve missed talking to you. Thanks for calling tonight.”

Cole felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. “I’ve missed you too. More than I expected to.”

The admission hung between them for a moment, honest and unguarded. Cole hadn’t planned to say it out loud, but now that he had, he didn’t regret it. Something about Annie made him want to be honest, even when it meant being vulnerable.

“I didn’t expect to miss you this much either,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s strange how quickly you’ve become important to me.”

Cole stared at the ceiling, his heart beating a little faster. “Strange in a good way, I hope.”

“Definitely good,” Annie said. “Just... unexpected. I’m not usually so quick to let people in.”

“Neither am I,” Cole admitted. “Between basketball and family stuff, I don’t usually have much time for... this.”

“This?” He could hear the smile in her voice despite her illness.

Cole laughed softly. “You know what I mean. Getting to know someone. Caring about someone new.”

“I do know.” She paused, and he heard her taking a sip of something. “It’s scary sometimes, isn’t it?”

“Terrifying,” Cole agreed. “Worth it, though.”

The conversation lulled into a comfortable silence. Cole listened to the sound of her breathing, finding unexpected comfort in just knowing she was there on the other end of the line.

“You should get some rest,” he finally said, reluctant to end the call but concerned about her recovery. “The more you sleep, the faster you’ll get better.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Annie sighed. “I am pretty tired, even though I haven’t done anything all day.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow, okay? And maybe we can video chat when you’re feeling up to it.”

“I’d like that,” she said. “Good night, Cole. And congratulations again on the game.”

“Thanks. Feel better, Annie. Good night.”

After they hung up, Cole set his phone on the nightstand and closed his eyes. The knot of anxiety that had been tightening in his chest for days had finally loosened. She wasn’t pulling away—she was just sick. The relief he felt seemed disproportionate to the situation, but he couldn’t deny it.

As he drifted toward sleep, Cole’s thoughts went to prayer. He’d prayed more in the past few months than he had in years. His concern for Shiloh, the child of his sister and his best friend, who had bravely fought cancer, had restored the faith he’d allowed to slide away back to life again.

And in that moment, a simple prayer winged skyward that Annie would feel better soon, and that whatever was growing between them would have the chance to flourish.

---