Page 63 of The Truth of Loving You

“Why, Cole?” He turned his haunted brown eyes to me. “Why am I here?”

Okay, we’re doing this. Go time for heart on a platter.

Shane

Cole tensed and visibly tried to find the words to answer my questions but couldn’t.

I hated waking up in a strange bed with Cole all over me, feeling groggy and disoriented. I did not inhale his scent and feel an instant sense of relief. I didn’t. That would be monumentally stupid on my part.

The jerk had the nerve to look all handsome and lickable while he slept. And the place smelled like him and my favorite scented candle. It was purgatory. Heavenly because Cole was next to me, and I felt calm and safe and an overwhelming sense of belonging. Hell because it was temporary, thus the reality of purgatory. This heaven was a pit stop on the way to hell.

Cole had dark circles under his eyes and looked sick when I asked him why I was here. Now he seemed resolved. I could not afford to let him see the part of me that wanted to stay in his bed forever.

While Cole tried to answer my question, I surveyed his loft from the bed positioned against the wall in the center of the living area. In the open concept with high exposed beams and brick, the kitchen was on the side by the door and a huge sectional couch faced a large screen TV. In the middle of it all stood an easel with a canvas on it.

“This space seems suited to your personality better than the other apartment.” I winced, realizing I didn’t want to change the subject.

Cole nodded in agreement but said, “I have a confession to make.” Cole lay sideways on the bed so we were eye to eye without hurting my leg. “When I got the text that you were in the hospital, I lost my mind.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve brought back some horrendous memories for you.” I vaguely remember his fury about the motorcycle.

It must’ve brought Paxton to mind.

Cole’s mouth turned up in a sad smile. “Not at all, but I’ll explain all that later.” He laced his fingers through mine, and I didn’t close my fingers, but I didn’t pull my hand away. “All I knew was that something bad had happened to you, and I had to get to you as fast as possible.”

He took a deep breath and snared me in his emerald green eyes. “It made me face the fact that you were partly right. I was hurting. But not because of you,” he said quickly, as I wanted to interrupt. “I hurt myself because I wasn’t willing to admit my feelings for you. Every day that I denied how I felt about you tormented me. I have so many regrets about my past that I let them wreck the best thing that has happened to me.”

I snorted.

Cole pulled out his phone. “What’s 153,042 divided by 87?” he asked, and when I huffed, he continued, “I need to make sure you’re not stoned for this conversation.”

“It’s around 1,760, but I can do the math stoned.” I didn’t know why I was arguing with him. “I will not forget this conversation.” Best to get it over and done with.

Cole’s thumb caressed mine. “You were right about something else. I can fall in love again. I did fall in love again.” I closed my eyes at his words, afraid to let them sink in. “You helped me understand that what I had with Paxton doesn’t have anything to do with us. And that the length of time I grieve him does not equal the love I had for him. I buried part of my heart with him, but you grew another piece twice as large as the one I buried.” Cole squeezed my hand. “Please look at me.”

I cracked one eye open and then the other. Looking into the sun was always a mistake.

“I love you. You are a gift in my life. And I finally understand that doesn’t take away from what I had before. You’ve never been a faux Pax. You’re very different. You’re what I want for my future. I’d been afraid of what the future would bring because it would never be what I’d imagined. But now I can see a new future, a future with you. I can’t promise I won’t fuck up, but if you’ll let me, I’ll prove to you that I’m not leaving you again.”

Air rushed out of me, and my head fell back on the pillow. He had all the right words, but I could not believe Cole Branson loved me.

It wasn’t possible.

He was anchored to his past, and I was me—a mess—not good with people or relationships or anything else. It would be extremely helpful if geniuses were able to understand relationships and act accordingly. But in my research, facts showed that geniuses were historically terrible at personal relationships. My family and past romantic partners would agree. Sara was the only outlier in that group. My life wouldn’t be so empty if my brain functioned normally.

Cole couldn’t possibly love me.

Cole crawled up next to me and rested his head on the pillow next to mine. “I know you don’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me if I were you. I’ll take you any way I can get you. I promise not to push you. All I’m asking for is a chance. Do we have a chance?”

His breath caresses my face, and I wanted to scream “hell yes!” Instead, I looked him in the eye and said, “I don’t know.”

I expected him to argue or lose his temper, but he just nodded and pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Do you want to sleep some more or eat?”

My stomach rumbled, so Cole fixed us dinner. He was a surprisingly good cook. When I asked him about it, he shrugged and said he didn’t usually have time to cook.

“How long before your next client?” I asked.

We were sitting side-by-side in his glorious king-sized bed. I had to get a mattress like this because I was getting too comfortable here. Cole trauma bonded with me because my accident was reminiscent of his past. He would come to his senses after I left.

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