Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Because it isn’t, Cole.” Tears continued to fall, and I slashed at them angrily. “Yes, you let me get close to you. But now you’re pushing me away. And I have this feeling that you’re going to keep pushing.”
“That’s ridiculous.” He crossed his arms again.
“Is it? I can deal with you wanting more time until we move in together. But that’s not what this is about.”
“Huh?”
“This is about you saying you’re fine and you’re not. This is about you looking for reasons to keep yourself from being happy, so that it can’t be stolen from you. This is about you wanting to cause the bad thing, so that the bad thing can’t take you by surprise.”
He set his jaw. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m not, Cole.” I had to wipe my eyes again. “Look, I’ve loved you for so many years—what would another couple months be until we could live together? In the grand scheme of things, it’s no time at all.”
“Then why can’t you just agree to it?” he begged, his tone softer. “That’s all I need.”
“No, it isn’t. This is not about time, Cole. It’s not about time, it’s not about Mariah, and it’s not even about Trisha anymore—it’s about you.” I choked back a sob. “Anyone would have wounds after going through what you did. And in order to survive and be there for Mariah, you had to ignore them. But the scars are still there, and you have to look at them now if you want to move on and be happy. You have to talk about them. Share them with me.”
“You sound like Jessalyn,” he said angrily. “And maybe women and children need to talk about all their issues in order to get past them, but men don’t.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.” He thumped his chest.
I shook my head. It would have been funny if it weren’t so sad. “You’re wrong, Cole. It’s going to break my heart to walk out of here tonight, but if you won’t let me love you, scars and all, that’s what I have to do.” With tears streaming down my face, I turned to leave.
“Cheyenne, wait. Don’t go.” He grabbed my arm and forced me to look at him. “I love you,” he said, his eyes shining in the dark.
“All of me? Even the scars? Even that girl who still can’t believe Cole Mitchell would ever choose her? Because she’s in there too.”
He swallowed. “Of course.”
“Then prove it.” I took a deep breath and shook off his arm. “You said you wanted to fight for me, Cole. Here’s your chance.”
Summoning all the strength I had, I held back the tears and walked out.
Twenty-Nine
Cheyenne
Three days after the worst Christmas ever, I went over to Griffin and Blair’s apartment for coffee.
I hadn’t told Blair anything about the Christmas Eve breakup because I didn’t want to interrupt her time with her family or cause her to spend time worrying about me on her trip. But they’d flown in last night, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I’d spent the last seventy-two hours crying in my bedroom, ignoring my mom’s attempts to talk, and wondering if I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.
“Good morning,” Blair said with a smile, answering my knock in ivory flannel pajamas that were embroidered with Mrs. Dempsey on the top’s pocket. Then she saw my face, and her smile faded. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“No,” I said, tearing up. “I need caffeine and talk therapy and maybe some kind of muffin or pastry with either like some icing on it or some crumble topping.”
She brought me inside and gave me a hug. “You’ve come to the right place.”
I ditched my snow boots, followed her up the stairs and plunked myself on a stool at their kitchen island. “Where’s Griff?”
“He ran over to the gym this morning.” She poured me a cup of coffee and set an oversized muffin on a plate in front of me. “There. Now you have caffeine and crumble topping. So let’s get to the therapy. What happened?”
“Cole and I broke up,” I said, tears leaking from my eyes.
“What? Oh no!” She grabbed a box of tissues and placed it in front of me before coming around the island to sit on the stool next to mine. Rubbing my arm, she waited for me to mop my cheeks. “Tell me what happened. Did you ask him about the nightmares?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t even get a chance.”
“So what was it?”
Taking a shuddering breath, I told her the whole story. By the end of it, she was dabbing her eyes with a tissue too. “Oh, no. Oh Cole, what are you doing?”
“He thinks he’s being a man, but he’s just being a coward,” I said irritably. “I get why, but it still sucks.”
“It does,” she agreed. “You sort of can’t fault him, but you want to.”