Confessions in the Dark (10 page)

“Serena.” Her name came out sharp on his tongue. She jerked her head up, her protest dying mid-word. “I said it's not a problem.”

She was a public school teacher, for fuck's sake.

She wrung her hands, and an edge of vulnerability crept into her voice, squeezing his heart. “I just don't want to put you out.”

Didn't she understand? Did she have no idea? “You're not.”

She'd barged her way into his life, all right, but she had
never
put him out. She'd breathed life and lightness into all the darkened corners of his endless, wasted days. A few hundred dollars was nothing.

An unhappy frown twisted her mouth. “I don't even know what you do for a living. Can you afford—”

“I can.” The forceful way the words left his lungs seemed to take her aback. He drew in a deep breath.

She wanted to know what he did for a living. Fuck. It was the last thing in the world he wanted to talk about, but all at once the answer was forming itself.

What was it about her that did this to him? From his pathetic, broken confessions about his wife to this. She drew these stories out of him. These truths he rarely admitted, even to himself.

“I...” He flexed his jaw, trying to summon the words. “I don't do anything. Not anymore.” And this was the hard part. He couldn't keep the bitterness from his tone. The anger, at the past and at his life and at himself. “I got let go.”

“Oh, Jesus, then you don't need to—”

He cut her off again. “Right after my wife died.” And for a second, he was back there, standing alone in that empty, aching house. He could still smell her on his skin, could still hear her voice.

Even today, he could taste the burn of liquor on his tongue.

“I...didn't handle it well.”

He'd lost his fucking mind was what he'd done. Guilt and grief and rage had been a storm inside him, the howling winds of it tearing him to pieces.

“It's funny. You're a teacher, so you wouldn't understand, but professors—we're there for the research. I liked the teaching well enough, but I was rubbish at it. Talking to people, handling their personal problems, and after—”
Helen.
He couldn't even say her name. “After she was gone, I stopped trying. I screamed at students. Showed up drunk.”

Serena's face twisted before him. Horrified. Well, she should be.

A shuddering echo of a breath tore through his lungs. “I didn't last long after that.”

Administrative leave, they'd called it. When it had come time to revisit, to plead for his job back, he'd blown the hearing off. To have to face them all again...to see the looks on their faces…

In his mind, he was there. His brother-in-law, Barry, had been the dean, and he'd given Cole so damn many chances, and he'd aggressively pissed away every one. When Barry'd finally shown Cole the door, Cole had wanted to rear back, to let his fist fly in his face and give the restless anger in his bones a place to
go
.

But then he'd looked in his eyes, and he'd seen the same grief that lived in his own.

“Cole...”

The way she said his name struck straight to the core of him. The horror was still there, but there was kindness, too, and he didn't deserve a fraction of it.

He shook the echoes of ghosts from his shoulders. Refocused until his vision was clear again.

But when he tried to smile, to pretend that it was all okay, it didn't work.

“I never went back.” He hadn't been able to face his own failure. He couldn't stand to look his brother-in-law in the eye and see the pity there. The disappointment. The pieces of Helen that still lived on in him. “Now I just...”

Exist. For years, that's all he'd been doing. There were the journals he kept up with on his weekly pilgrimages downtown, the calculations he carried out on scattered scraps of paper he left strewn around his space.

There was a hole, where something had used to be but wasn't anymore.

Eyes shining, Serena took a step toward him. It was all he had left not to take one back.

“Cole. I can't take your money.”

A burning bark of laughter escaped his throat. “Please.”

“No, if you're not working right now...” And how could she even be kind while saying that?

“I have plenty.” More than he ever, ever wanted to have. “My family gave me a cushion, and then...” Fuck. His voice wavered, and he couldn't seem to bring it back under control. “The life insurance policy.”

The ones she'd bought for both of them, because all along she'd been planning ahead. Because she'd been thinking, hoping that they'd—

He blinked against the stinging in his eyes. Curled his hands in tighter fists around his crutches.

“You see.” His racing heart refused to slow. But he could say this. He had to. “I've been living off death for years now.” Wasting what had come into his hands once everything else had slipped away. “So please.”

And this mattered to him. His throat ached with the sudden desperation of it. Of how much he
wanted
this.

“Please,” he said. “Let me spend it on something that matters. Let me give this tiny fraction of it to you.”

As swiftly as it had filled him, whatever strength had fueled his words ebbed away. The rest of the world filtered back in. The too-worn carpet and the doors that surrounded them. This public space in which he'd made himself more naked than he'd been before anyone in years.

“Please,” he said again, but it was weak. Hollow.

For a moment, Serena stood there staring at him, long lashes fluttering against pale cheeks. The soft pout of her mouth opened and closed, crumpling before flattening back out. And then resolving, lifting into a smile that hurt it was so genuine.

“All right.”

Relief was a whole other kind of force surging through him. “All right?”

“God.” She dabbed at the brilliance of her eyes. “Of course. Like I could actually say no to that?”

She could have. But she hadn't.

“Thank you.”

She managed a shaky laugh. “Pretty sure I'm the one who should be thanking you.” One corner of her lips pulled to the side. “I don't suppose you'd let me give you a hug now, would you?”

Right. That was what people did, wasn't it? After heartfelt confessions or a substantial gift of cash. A hug wasn't outside the realm of reasonability.

All the same, the idea of it set him right back on edge, his fingers twitching, skin raw with the possibility. Heart terrified.

“I don't know.” He hesitated. “It was fairly disastrous last time.”

One of her brows quirked up. “That's not exactly what I'd call it.”

He'd blubbered on her and pawed at her and come damn near close to breaking all his vows and taking her against his fridge.
Disaster
seemed like an understatement.

But her arms were already rising, her weight shifting forward as if to close the gap.

And he'd never pretended to be made of steel.

With a put-upon sigh that was a lie against the eager thumping of his pulse, he met her halfway. He closed his eyes as she put her arms around him, and it was awkward and it was awful—he nearly lost his crutches and buckled his aching knee. But he got one arm around her, too, and it was the best thing he'd felt in days. He let the sweet scent of her soak into his bones and the warmth of her heal something that had been raw and untouched beneath his skin.

And then he pulled away.

Clearing his throat, he got his crutches underneath him, turning toward the stairs before he did something he'd regret.

“See?” she asked, voice wobbling. “Not so disastrous this time.”

Her gaze on the ground, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Like she were still holding him. Like she still needed to be held, and it hurt. Continuing to walk away.

He let a flicker of a smile pass over his face. “Good night, Serena.”

“Good night, Cole.”

He hovered there, waiting on the landing until her door swung shut behind her.

Then he started the long climb to his empty apartment. Alone.

T
his was a disaster.

In disgust, Serena threw yet another cocktail dress on the “no thank you” pile. She'd had some luck at this consignment store in the past, but now, when there was something specific she actually, honestly needed to find
today
, she was striking out entirely. Exhaling hard, she pinched the bridge of her nose. At this rate, she was going to be trying to impress all the fancy Upton people in a recycled bridesmaid dress. She hadn't had any illusions of being able to pass herself off as high society, but she'd thought, maybe, with the right dress...

Maybe with gorgeous, cultured, professorial Cole at her side...Maybe she could've at least made a decentish impression.

Turning from the mirror, she slipped her next-to-last option off its hanger, holding the fabric up before sighing and undoing the zipper.

A different kind of nervousness buzzed beneath her skin as she stepped into the dress. Going to this benefit was about helping Max, and that was her first and last priority. But there were a couple of other ones sandwiched in between them.

And all of them were named Cole. Cole who could be bristly and recalcitrant at the slightest hint of an offense to his pride, who could turn on the charm like a switch when there was something he wanted. Cole who was a widower, and who had dropped his shields yet again.

He'd let her see straight through to the bleeding heart of him, and it had only left her wanting more. For the second time, he'd let her wrap him up in her arms, and what she wouldn't give to keep him there forever. To maybe show him a little of the love he'd been living without for all these years.

Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she dismissed that line of thought with prejudice. The man was clearly still grieving, and there were more secrets lurking behind his closed doors. She could almost taste them in the memory of his kiss and in the rasp of his breath beside her ear as he folded her in against his chest.

He'd said he wasn't ready. And she could respect that.

Resolved, she got the dress pulled over her arms. It was a softly draped, black, sleeveless number, with just a hint of shimmer in the fabric. It hit a little higher on her thigh than she usually preferred, but the fit felt good. Contorting herself, she reached behind her back to get the zipper. She made it almost all the way to the top before her flexibility ran out. Oh well. Close enough.

Steeling herself, she turned to face the mirror again, and— Oh. That worked, actually. Classy and yet sexy, and maybe it was a tiny bit on the snug side, but she could work with that. She dug around beneath her arm for the tag, holding her breath.

Of course it had to be the most expensive dress of the lot. For secondhand, it was outright ridiculous—just the idea of what it must have cost full price made a sweat break out on the back of her neck.

But then she glanced at herself again. She looked
good
. Not the stuffy teacher or the matronly aunt her mother always accused her of behaving like. She looked like a single woman in her twenties should for a date. A fancy date with a beautiful, haunted, impossible, unavailable man...

Who didn't think this was a date at all.

Groaning with frustration, she went to get undressed again—maybe the last, cheaper dress would be at least sort of acceptable. Before she could so much as grasp the zipper, though, her phone sounded off from within her purse. She frowned, dropping her arms. That was Penny's ringtone.

She still hadn't managed to get a hold of her sister since the last time her mother had raised her concerns. This wasn't exactly the greatest timing, but no way she could put off answering now. Ignoring the people in the other changing booths, she dug through her bag until she found her phone, picking up the call and bringing the speaker to her ear. “Penny?”

“Hey.”

Serena paused. Her sister sounded...off. A low warning tone sounded in her mind. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” A sniffle leaked across the line. “Just got a bit of a cold.”

Oh. The automatically wary part of her stood down, at least a little. Nudging her pile of discarded dresses aside, she sat down gingerly on the edge of the bench tucked into a corner of the stall. For a moment, awkward silence hung between them, but Serena pushed through it. “What's up?”

And it was ridiculous, exchanging basic pleasantries and small talk while Serena was hogging an entire dressing room, still decked out in a slip of black organza she could barely afford. But she sat through it all the same, trying the best she could to keep her voice down. But as they droned on and on without really saying a thing, it got harder to keep the real question she wanted to ask unspoken: What the heck was this about?

Why now?

Serena had spent so much of her life waiting for the other shoe to fall when it came to her sister. Penny would go years with everything under control only to spin out without warning, leaving Serena and her mom to pick up the pieces. What should just be nice chances to catch up were always haunted by the lingering specter of another episode that would send everyone scrambling, and the anticipation of it all had Serena jittery and unsettled.

Finally, it burst out of her. “Look, not that I'm not glad to hear from you, but what's going on?”

If it weren't for the quiet breaths humming across the line, Serena would've worried she'd dropped the call. Even as it was, the seconds kept ticking past, to the point where she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from asking again. And maybe she was an asshole for pushing instead of letting her sister come to whatever was behind the call in her own time. Penny had always told her she was pushy, but if there was anything Serena had learned over the years of handling her sister, it was that she
had
to push. She had to get ahead of the situation before it crashed over them all and Penny wasn't the only one about to drown.

But then, just when she was about to try a different tack—

“Are—” The single word came out on something dangerously close to a sob.

Serena sat up straight, her muscles tensing.

“Are you happy, Rena?”

Oh hell. Adrenaline flooded Serena's system in a rush. This had a hospital visit and an emergency trip out to New York written all over it.

But maybe it wasn't that bad yet. Penny didn't reach out when she was at her lowest. Maybe Serena could still talk her down.

She considered her words carefully. It was actually a more fraught question than even her sister's mental health might make it seem. “Mostly, I guess.” There were always things that could be better, and maybe she was a little overly obsessed with a guy she couldn't have. But on the whole, things were fine. They were good.

But her own state of mind wasn't really the point. It never was.

Serena swallowed, her throat tightening. “Are you?”

“I don't know.”

Oh, hell, that little hiccup at the end. Penny was crying.

In an instant, Serena was on her feet. “Oh, sweetie. Penny. Talk to me.”

“No.” Another shiver of a sniffle. “It's fine. I shouldn't have bothered you.”

“Of course you should. You're my sister—”

Penny gave a sad echo of a laugh. “I haven't been much of a sister to you, though, have I?”

Gripping the phone more tightly, Serena closed her eyes. “You're scaring me.”

“I'm fine. I'm just tired.”

“Have you talked to your doctor? Do you need me to make you an appointment?” She still had his contact info in her phone, she was sure.

“I'm seeing him tomorrow.”

“Okay.” That was good. Really good. But sometimes it wasn't enough. “Maybe you need a break?” She hesitated. “You know you can always come home, right? Even just for a few days, or longer if you need it, or—”

“Why are you always so nice to me?”

The question didn't even compute. “You're my sister.”

“Yeah. I guess I am.” A beat passed before she said, “Listen, I'm going to let you go.”

“Are you sure?” The unsettled feeling in Serena's gut hadn't abated at all. Something was seriously wrong here.

“Yeah. You're probably busy anyway, and I...I just needed to hear a friendly voice.”

Serena really, really didn't want to let her go. “Penny, you know you're more than my sister. You're my friend, too.”

Growing up, she'd been Serena's best friend. Serena would do anything for her. So many times, she had.

“I know. Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime.”

There was another, longer pause as Serena scrambled for the right thing to say.

But then Penny spoke. “Hey, Rena?”

“Yeah?”

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Sure.”

“No, really,” Penny insisted. “Do something nice for yourself, even. You never do that.”

Serena's brow crinkled. “Penny...”

“I'll talk to you again soon.”

With that, she was gone.

For a minute, all Serena could do was stand there. Alarm bells shrieked in the back of her mind. If this wasn't a red alert situation, it was definitely a yellow one. She tossed her phone in her purse, ready to take off this silly, ridiculous dress so she could focus on her sister and whatever had motivated that call.

She paused, zipper undone, the fabric ready to fall off her arms. Turning, she took one last look at herself in the mirror, then at the price tag.

It wasn't
that
ridiculous of a dress. And no matter how unsettling that call had been, the way it had ended...

Maybe Penny was right. Maybe Serena did need to do something for herself.

Moving fast, she stepped out of the dress and got back into her boring teacher clothes. She could do something for herself
and
worry about her sister. Both at the same time, even.

Draping the dress over her arm, she swept the curtain for the changing room aside and headed for the register.

With her other hand, she opened her contacts in her phone and placed a call.

“Mom?” she said as soon as it picked up. “We have got to talk about Penny.”

Cole forced himself to slow down. To take a long, deep breath before turning around. With his eyes shut tight and his heart thundering, he shuffled in a tight half-circle until he was facing it.

How many times had he considered taking the damn thing down? Tearing it off the back of the door with his own bare hands—or worse, putting his fist right through the glass?

Tonight, though, he needed it. Exhaling, he nodded to himself and opened his eyes.

And it was just like it always was. The mirror tucked away in his closet was nothing more than a plain, flat, silvered surface. Innocuous and innocent and he
hated
it. He hated what was always there, staring back at him from behind the glass.

Himself.

The throat in the reflection bobbed, while the one inside his body ached. With as much clinical efficiency as he could muster, he took in the hundred details he'd turned to the blasted thing for in the first place. Every piece was in order, from the tailored lines of the jacket to the break in his trousers—his new, slimmer knee brace barely showing beneath the wool. His shoes were polished to a high black shine, and he'd done his tie in an elegant full Windsor. He'd pass muster at the most refined of society events.

Right until he got to his eyes. Even after he'd shaved and subdued his hair, it was his eyes that gave him away.

His lungs got tight, and just like that, he couldn't do it anymore. He swung the door shut so hard it slammed, dismissing the mirror and the sight of his own bleak countenance as one. Sagging, he dropped his head.

Less than an hour until the benefit began, and what had he been
thinking
? Buying the tickets in the first place and then allowing Serena to convince him to accompany her. He hadn't done anything like this since...since...

Fuck. Dizziness swept over him, making him sway in place.

The last time he'd worn a suit had been at Helen's funeral. Dark-eyed men in dark clothes had lowered her down, the sky bleeding rain through a sheet of steel-gray clouds, and he'd stood out in it for hours. There'd been no one left to tell him not to.

He stood there in his own downpour now, drowning on dry land. His stuffy, shut-up bedroom closed in around him, and he could stay in it forever, couldn't he? Never answer the door again or descend those stairs. Never look upon a face that broke like the sun on the horizon, echoing out in shimmering waves of brilliant gold.

Except he couldn't. Serena—she wouldn't stand for it. She'd come up here and she'd knock until her knuckles were sore, and it didn't matter how long he resisted. Eventually he'd let her in.

Grasping his crutches, he straightened his shoulders and raised his gaze. Inevitability tugged at him.

He
wanted
to let her in. That might be what scared him most of all.

And then there wasn't time to belabor it anymore. Like clockwork, a quiet rapping sounded out from the direction of his door.

The world around him lurched back into focus. Instead of a reflection in a mirror, he was staring at a blank expanse of wall, and he might not be able to fool anyone into believing he was a gentleman—not if they had the balls to look him in the eye. But there was space. Empty room in his life, room that Serena had carved out of a morass of stagnation and grief, and it was just like that wall. Blank. Ready for him to write upon it what he would.

It was faster going than it would've been a scant few weeks ago, but it still seemed to take an age for him to reach his door. Jostling his crutch, he flung the door open.

Bloody fucking hell. The idea of locking himself away in his room had tempted him for all of a minute, but in the span of a breath, it flew out of his brain entirely.

Serena was a vision. He'd found the coy flirtatiousness of her everyday attire alluring enough, but tonight she'd clearly gone out of her way to ruin him. Rich black fabric clung to her every curve, bare expanses of milky thigh exposed, and her
breasts
...