Page 90 of Cole

“Annie,” he said finally, lifting his gaze to meet hers. “I don’t want to end things with you. But I can’t be the reason you’re put in danger either.”

Annie’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “So you’re choosing my father’s side? Just like that?”

“It’s not about sides,” Cole said, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s about your safety. If something happened to you because of your connection to me…” He couldn’t even finish the thought.

“I’ve spent my entire life in a beautiful cage,” Annie said, frustration clear in her voice. “Always protected, always watched, always hidden. For once, I thought I’d found someone who saw me—just me—not Duncan Burke’s daughter, who needed constant protection.”

“I do see you, Annie. That’s why this is so hard.” Cole pressed his fingers to his temple, feeling a headache building. “I care about you too much to put you at risk.”

“What if we were more careful?” she suggested, leaning forward. “What if we kept things completely private? No more public appearances, no photos—”

“You know that wouldn’t work,” Cole interrupted gently. “People follow me everywhere. They analyze every move I make.Someone would eventually connect the dots, especially now that there’s been a threat.”

A tear slipped down Annie’s cheek, and she brushed it away quickly. “So that’s it? We just… give up?”

The pain in her voice cut through him like a knife. “I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted. “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

Cole hesitated. The thought had just formed, and he wasn’t sure if it made any sense. “Unless I step away from basketball.”

Annie’s eyes widened. “What? No! You can’t give up your career for me. That’s your passion, your life’s work.”

“And you’re becoming an important part of my life, too.” The realization surprised him even as he said it. When had Annie become so essential to him?

“Cole, that’s crazy. We’ve only known each other a few months.”

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I’ve never felt this way before. With anyone.”

Annie was silent for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “I can’t let you do that,” she finally said. “I won’t be responsible for ending your career.”

“Then where does that leave us?” Cole asked, the question hanging heavy between them.

Annie looked away, staring into the fireplace. “Maybe we need some time. To think things through separately.”

The suggestion felt like a step toward goodbye, and Cole’s chest tightened. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” she whispered, looking back at him. “It’s not what I want at all. But I don’t see another option right now.”

A knock at Cole’s hotel room door startled them both.

“Halverson!” Marcus’s voice called through the door. “Coach wants us in the lobby in fifteen.”

Cole glanced at the time, surprised at how quickly it had passed. “I’ll be right there,” he called back.

When he turned back to the screen, Annie’s expression had shifted, resignation replacing the raw emotion of moments before.

“You need to go,” she said quietly.

“Annie, wait—”

“It’s okay. You have a game to prepare for.” She attempted a smile that didn’t reach her beautiful eyes. “Maybe we both need some time to think.”

“I don’t want to leave things like this,” Cole said, desperation edging into his voice.

“I know. But right now, I don’t think either of us knows what the right answer is.” Annie tucked her hair behind her ear again, a nervous gesture he’d come to recognize. “Play well tonight. We can… talk again soon.”

Before Cole could respond, she ended the call, leaving him staring at a blank screen. The abruptness of it felt like a physical blow.

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