Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
I wince, even though he’s not being a dick at the moment. Not accusing me and my mom of being the source of his lack.
Cole gets on the highway. “Where are we going?”
“I know this great gelato place in Cave Hills. Our mom used to take us as a reward for our patience after clothes shopping. You gonna eat the rest of that burger?”
“Nope.” I hand over the last third of my burger. “I should’ve bought you two.”
“I can eat four of those and not even blink, babygirl. Where do you think I get my stamina?” He winks and I roll my eyes, trying to will away the blush I sense crawling up from under my t-shirt collar.
Every encounter with Cole has been so far out of my playbook I can’t even categorize them. But this one? This feels like a date. He’s taking me for gelato. And while it’s not nearly as exciting as getting spanked and blowing him in a locker room, it does crazy things to my mind. Or is that my heart?
Crap.
I am so screwed.
We go in and order fancy gelato. I get dark chocolate orange and he gets mint chocolate chip. I know better than to offer to pay, even though I also know Cole’s hurting for money. He pays and we take it outside to sit on the patio overlooking the busy street below.
“It feels good to be out of Wolf Ridge,” I say. Even though it was only a twenty minute drive, Cave Hills feels more like an ordinary suburban city while Wolf Ridge manages to have the insular, small-town feeling.
It’s ritzy. It’s the northern part of Scottsdale, so there’s money here and I brace myself for a moment, fearing Cole will misconstrue my comfort here.
But he agrees. “Wolf Ridge gets so old. The same families have lived there for more than a hundred years. Everyone’s always in your business. I can’t fucking stand it.”
It occurs to me that he’s probably been the object of the town’s scorn since his dad’s plummet from grace. Which isn’t his fault. No wonder he’s been so bitter and rebellious.
“Are you planning to leave? You could get a football scholarship somewhere, right?”
A shutter slams down over his expression. “Nah. I gotta stick around for my sister. But no one leaves Wolf Ridge, really.” He shrugs like it’s just this accepted reality.
“But do you want to stay? I understand about Casey… with your, um, dad situation. But what about when she graduates?”
“Shut up, Pink.” There’s no smirk. Cole’s back to alpha-hole and he clearly resents my questions.
But this is what he does, isn’t it? He pushes people away to avoid the shame of his situation. Or the despair of how stuck he feels.
He picks up our empty ice cream cups and throws them in the trash. “We’d better get back,” he says flatly. “I don’t like to leave Casey home alone too long.”
By home alone, I assume he means home with his dad. I get up and follow him to the car. Cole starts the engine, not looking at me.
“Cole, I think you and Casey should get some help. It’s not right that you’re not only fending for yourselves, but afraid to be at home. If the authorities got involved, you and Casey would be taken away from your dad. I know he’s having a hard time, but he’s a shitty father right now.”
“Shut up! Shut up, Pink.” He slams his fist down on my dashboard and the plastic cracks. “Fuck!”
I sit in stunned silence and stare at the crack.
“I’m sorry,” he croaks.
“No, I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t mean to upset you. I just—”
“He didn’t used to be a bad father,” Cole chokes out, his voice breaking. “He didn’t used to be.”
Tears flood my eyes, spill down my cheeks. Cole’s pain slices me to ribbons. Of course he still loves his dad. Things aren’t black and white. Good and bad. His good dad is still there somewhere, under the alcoholism and violence.
Cole finally looks over at me, eyeing my tears. “There you go with those tears again,” he says bitterly. “Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Cry for me.”
I dash at the tears with the back of my hand. “I can’t help it.”
He reaches for me, wraps his fingers around the back of my head and pulls my face right up to his. He doesn’t kiss me though. Just studies my face with a mixture of rage and wonder.
I tense, wondering which one will win out.
And then he pounces. Attacks my lips with his, same as the first time I cried for him, but this time we’re stuck in the tiny cabin of my Beetle. His tongue fucks my mouth, fingers twist in my hair. Everything about it is rough and brutal.
Passionate.
He tries to pull me toward him, but I’m caught by my seatbelt. Instead, he settles for crushing one hand over my left breast while he continues to kiss the hell out of me.