Page 24 of The Truth of Loving You

Chapter twelve

Shane

I’dwatchedColeoutsidemy apartment from the stairwell, thankful when he left. I did not have the energy for him. My job was more challenging than I expected. I’d known I had huge shoes to fill when I took this job.

Donald had hired me because I had the same innate ability with numbers that Paxton had. He’d said age was irrelevant, and that Paxton achieved management status by the time he was twenty-two. At twenty-four, I had several years of experience, but it had become clear that not everyone shared Donald’s opinion and confidence in my abilities.

I’d been prepared to put in extra time to bring everything up to date. I was not prepared for the systematic errors. I dedicated most of my time to shoring up how the financial data was stored and identifying the sources of data for reports with the tech operations executive.

Branson Financial actually had important data stored in a PowerPoint. A goddamn PowerPoint. One of the new analysts had to write code for a new report. The management’s ineptitude was staggering, but the worst part was a culture unwilling to change. If someone told me one more time that wasn’t how Paxton had done it, I might hurt someone.

The world had changed in five years. Technology advanced, markets varied. No one seemed to think that if Paxton had lived, he would have adapted. If Paxton was alive, he’d skewer the idiots.

The last thing I needed was to find Paxton’s broken-hearted, gorgeous husband at my door like a bewildered bear.

He made me want to climb him like a tree—forgetting all my problems. If I let him command me to do whatever filthy things he imagined, he’d succumb to his guilt again, and I’d be left gathering up pieces of my heart.

I would always be thankful to Cole for helping me figure myself out, but it wasn’t a reason to subject myself to his pain. I’d barely had time to do any new research into my proclivities let alone explore them.

I did grill Sara as to why she wasn’t shocked to find out I was attracted to a man. She said we lived in a hetero world, and while my peers were exploring girls, I was in a deep depression and trying to survive. I’d skipped the hormonal teenage phase and landed in adulthood to escape our parents. Sex wasn’t a priority, so I’d never questioned my preferences. I’d never been wildly attracted to another human before. I struggled to label myself; was I just bi or something else? Sara encouraged me to follow my attraction and instincts and not to worry about labels. She made sense, but I wasn’t thrilled with trying to sort this out now that I was on the cusp of attaining my goals.

I always suspected I had a personality prone to addiction. I hardly drank, never took drugs, and tried to eat a healthy diet. Sara called me a germaphobe, but it went so much deeper.

I needed control in my life. I clung to it like a life raft. Finding out that ceding control to Cole actually gave me peace was incomprehensible. It opened up a part of me that might never have surfaced without him.

Being on my knees, at his mercy, waiting for instructions while not having to predict, analyze, or interpret was intoxicating. Knowing nothing was expected of me except to follow directions, held my too-fast brain captive. I craved more. I craved him. But he was too dangerous.

Sara had known something had happened and assumed the worst of Cole. Correcting her would mean telling her what happened, and I wasn’t ready for that.

She invited me to her in-law’s place on Long Island for the weekend. I needed the mental break. Her family had adopted both of us, and we regularly would escape to Long Island in the summer.

“I’ll take Isaac to see the water.” I stood without waiting for an answer.

The wind and sea air off the Long Island Sound lulled me into complacency. Sara had insisted on lunch at her in-law’s favorite deli. I was in the midst of a food coma and took a crying baby Isaac from Sara to give her the chance to finish her lunch.

Sara’s husband, Christopher, and his parents were amazing. But they were overly tactile and expressed love through hugs, pats, and squeezes. It was so far from my own experience that I distanced myself from them. I knew Sara embraced her new family as much as they did her. She wanted all of the attention and love we’d lacked in our childhood.

I did not enjoy it.

The motion put Isaac to sleep, so I kept my stride even as I walked along the water.

“You’re good with him.”

I turned to see Cole, infuriatingly handsome as always. He flexed his fingers, and his brows pulled together in a frown.

Instead of asking all the things I wanted to know, number one being “why are you talking to me,” followed by “what are you doing here,” then “are you okay,” and “can I call you daddy again,” I said, “I know.” I rocked him gently in my arms. “This is Isaac.”

An awkward silence followed as we stared at each other.

“I’m sorry—”

“I don’t need your apology.” I cut him off.

I couldn’t hear how much being with me hurt him or another version of the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech.

“There you are, honey, I thought I’d find you out here.” An older, petite, blonde woman looped her arm through Cole’s. My eyes volleyed between the two, finding no familial resemblance, but Cole kept his eyes on me. “Cole.” She swatted his arm. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Hi, I’m Shane, and this is Isaac,” I said, hoping Cole would blink or have some sort of reaction.

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