Page 55 of Ruining Him
And with that, she’s gone. I watch as she jogs to the building next to mine and lets herself inside, completely perplexed about what just happened.
Is she really worried about Cole?
Why? Why would it bother so much if her big brother is having a bad day?
It’s not your problem, Lana.
You are not going over there.
You are not going over there.
You are not?—
I sigh and head in the direction of their cottage, mutteringto myself the entire way about how much Cole fucking Aston is getting on my nerves lately.
I should have just put myself out of my misery already and ended whatever this is between us. Either that or just shoot him.
Only, I know I could never, and not because of the bullshit excuse I gave myself early on about him being from a too high-profile family, but because I know deep down I could never pull the trigger.
There’s just something about him that calls to me, and I’d never be able to end him. Even the thought of him being hurt has my insides twisting and something like fear churning in my gut.
I don’t bother knocking, since Gracie basically forced me here in the first place.
Sure, let’s go with that.
Logan, Harley and Noah are all seated around the dining table, talking amongst themselves. Their conversation halts once I clear my throat and make my presence known. Each of them stares at me, but none of them says a word.
I raise a brow, and Logan returns it while Noah looks confused and Harley just blinks.
Jesus Christ.
“Where is he?” I grunt.
They look between themselves, as though they’re wondering whether or not they should tell me or just throw me out of their place.
Sighing, I walk past them and head towards the basement. I’m not sure why I feel like the basement should be my first place to look rather than Cole’s room, but a gut feeling is a gut feeling, and it’s rarely wrong.
The lights of the basement are on, and I’m only halfwaydown the steps when I hear the telltale sounds and grunts of someone hitting a bag.
Once I reach the bottom of the stairs, I find Cole pounding against the punching bag, his skin drenched in sweat while he looks almost trance-like. His knuckles are bruised and broken, and he doesn’t even look up as I enter his space.
“Cole,” I call out warily, since I’ve never seen him so off the deep end, and I’m not sure how he’ll react to my being here.
Hell, I’m still not sure why I’m even here myself.
His movements don’t pause, and he shows no signs of even hearing me.
“Cole,” I say louder, but still no response.
He’s not wearing earphones or listening to music, so it’s not like he physically can’t hear me, he’s just in another headspace entirely right now.
Okay… if this was me, what would be the best way to break me out of it?
Maybe I should just throw something at him?
Huh. That could actually work.
Only, when I glance around the room, I don’t see anything that I can throw at him that won’t give him a concussion.
