I sniffle and nuzzle my head against his broad, hard chest. His arms feel like a stone wall around me, guarding me from danger. I can’t imagine his heartbreak, his pain. Even considering the hell his little sister went through springs fresh tears to my eyes. I try to swallow the lump growing in my throat as I wrap my mind around what he told me. This man that I thought was some kind of sociopath, is really a hero. He knew he would be sacrificing his career, leaving his family, his friends and living in isolation forever after killing Trent, but he did it anyway. For her. His seventeen-year-old sister who would never grow up to have any of those things.

Just like he did for me.

He stopped Cecil from stealing what wasn’t his. If he hadn’t knocked him out and taken me to safety, I could have suffered the same fate as his sister. I don’t want to think about how a brutal attack like that would’ve shaped the rest of my life.

Cole runs his heavy hand through my hair and I close my eyes letting the calm wash over me.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble against his shirt.

“For what?” Cole moves back, holding my arms in his hands and peers into my face. When he looks at me like that, I feel like he can see everything I try to hide inside. My fears, my dreams, my desires…

I shake my head and try to push the feeling away as my cheeks flush with heat at the thought. Especially the last one. I hope he can’t tell how my body tingled when we held hands, or how an unfamiliar warmth rushed over my skin as he held me.

“I know I don’t understand what you’ve been through, I won’t pretend I do, but I know what it’s like to lose someone who means so much to you.” The lump in my throat grows as my mother’s face floats through my memory. Not how she looked at the end, when the cancer spread through her like wildfire, but how she looked when I was a little girl. When she would smile down at me as she pushed me on the swings or how beautiful she looked when she used to sing me my bedtime songs as a child. That’s how I like to remember her now, in our happiest moments together. In a time before I ever understood the word cancer, let alone had my life ripped apart by its hands.

Cole engulfs my hands in his palms. He watches me patiently as I sort through my thoughts.

“I lost my mother to cancer a few months ago,” I squeak as I strain to keep the endless flow of tears I have for her, contained. “She raised me alone, I don’t have any brothers or sisters. We just had each other.” I take a shaky breath, “I know it’s not the same as your sister, but when I buried her I felt like a wind blew out the fire in my soul.” My chin trembles and fat tears betray me, sliding slowly over my cheeks.

Cole nods and squeezes my hands, he leans into me and softly drags his thumb over the tracks of tears. “I’m sorry you lost your mother,” he leans forward and places his forehead against mine. His comfort soothes my aching heart as I listen to birds tweeting outside and the wind rustle through the pines. It’s such a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes.

Cole pulls back and clears his throat loudly, “I should get you some breakfast,” he turns his head and wipes his face quickly with the back of his hand. “Let me help you up,” he holds out his hand as he stands back up. I watch his face transform as he pushes his sadness down, forcing it away. He juts out his scruffy jaw and his blue eyes grow more determined. I wish I could do that. I wish I could just compartmentalize my feelings the way he seems to be able to. I wish my mother’s death didn’t always feel like a gaping wound pumping out blood with each heartbeat.

“Yes, please,” I grab his hands and let him pull me up. Throwing my arms around him, he supports me as he guides me across the room.

Hopping on my good foot, I follow him to the single chair he has set up next to a small table. He eases me down and I can’t help but smile at how someone so big and so strong can be so gentle.

“Okay, I’ve got instant coffee and oatmeal, the flavored kind, does that work for you?” He doesn’t really wait for my answer, busying himself with getting a pot filled with some water from a jug.

“Sounds perfect,” I agree, tilting my head back into the streaks of sunlight breaking through the window. As the sunlight kisses my skin I enjoy a sense of peace washing over me.

I couldn’t be happier to be so wrong about someone. Tilting my head, I watch as Cole busies himself in his kitchen and realize, I haven’t felt this content in a long, long time. Not since the days before Mama told me she got the diagnosis. A smile spreads over my face and tension I’ve been holding in my shoulders rolls away as I settle back in the chair, enjoying every second of this moment.