Up In Flames (17 page)

Shuffling through my purse, I found the small pack of tissues I kept for teary eyes, stuffy noses, or in this instance, a busted open nose. “Why do you think you deserved a whole heap of bad karma taken out on your poor face?”

“You and I both know you’re not innocent or clueless enough to not know the answer to that,” Cole said, taking the handful of tissue from me.

I felt some heat flood into my cheeks. Now that I knew he wasn’t going to keel over and die, the emotions I’d battled today crept back to the front of the line. The attraction was the first thing I felt, then the confusion, and last the anger.

“You’re going to need stitches for that,” I said, grimacing when I caught a glimpse of the gash across the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll survive,” he said, packing the tissue on top of it.

Neither of us said anything for a few seconds, but neither of us made a move to leave the other behind. We were content in the mutual silence.

Then Cole heaved a sigh that was as heavy as it was long. “I’m sorry, Elle,” he said, staring at the ground. “Shit. I’m so sorry.”

The anger melted away. Just like that.
I’m sorry
was some powerful stuff.

“What for?” I asked just because it seemed like the next thing to say.

Cole kicked at the dirt with the toe of his shoe. “For everything,” he said quietly. “From the second you met me to right now and everything in between. I’m sorry for it all.”

That wasn’t the answer I’d expected. He didn’t have anything to be sorry for except for the way he’d been to me all day long.

“Why, Cole?” I took a step towards him. He took a step away. He seemed determined to keep a body’s length distance between us. “Why have you acted like you hate me all day? Why have you been so . . . cruel?”

Hate. Cruelty. I would never have used those words to describe Cole until today. I wasn’t sure who the real Cole was: the one that made my heart skip when I met him at the swimming hole or the one that made my heart break today.

“Why did you leave me, Elle? Why did you sneak away from me in the middle of the night while I was asleep like you were ashamed of me and what we’d done?” He kept his voice controlled, but I could hear the edge in it. “Why were
you
so cruel?”

I made a face and opened my mouth to reply. Nothing I’d done last night had been cruel, not even remotely, but as I studied the creases of Cole’s face, I could see I’d cut him as badly as he’d cut me.

I might not have been as intentional about it, but I’d hurt him nonetheless.

“Is that what you think? That I left last night because I was ashamed?”

“Why else would you up and leave like that?” He was back to staring at everything but me. I didn’t know why he found it so hard to look at me, but I missed the way he used to look at me.

Like he knew me better than I knew myself and was just waiting for me to figure it out.

I sighed, not proud of what I was about to admit. “Because I was scared, Cole. I was
scared
, not ashamed.”

The skin between his brows creased. “You were scared?”

“Yes.”

“Of what?” he said, adjusting the tissue packed against his nose.

Why did I have to remind myself to be honest with him?

It only took a moment before I had my answer: because I was even scared of admitting the truth.

The cowardly lion had nothing on me.

“I was scared of the way I felt about you . . .” This would have been so much easier if his arms were around me. Instead, a seemingly uncrossable distance lay between us. “Of the way I still feel about you.” I looked away from him. I couldn’t stand to stare as his tortured face grew more tortured with each word. “I was scared of what would be waiting for me in the morning if I stayed all night with you. I was scared of what my dad would think. I was scared of what Logan would say. I was scared of you waking up and leaving me behind.” Now that I’d opened this can of scared, I couldn’t seem to close it. “I was scared, Cole. I’m still so damn scared.”

Cole looked as surprised as I felt that that baby curse slipped out. And now I was also scared of becoming a swearing sailor.

“So you left because you were scared, not ashamed,” Cole said, summing it all up. “But are you going to have me believe you haven’t felt any shame since last night?”

“No, I have felt it, Cole. I have.” One side of his face twisted. “But only because this person I’d shared so much with acted like I was nothing to him. And treated me like I was nothing.” I ran my hands down my dress. “I only felt shame because I was so sure there was something special between us that you so obviously never felt.”

When Cole stayed silent after my heart wrenching confession, I knew I was going to cry. To break into huge, giant sobs right in front of him. The only other option I had was to turn around and head back through that door I’d just charged out of. I was going to cry either way, but at least it wouldn’t have to be in front of him.

As soon as I took my first step towards the door, Cole cursed under his breath and sighed. “Come here,” he said, crossing the space between us in two lunges before tucking me into his arms. I exhaled in surprise as he held me tight, and then I melted into him. It was as easy to do now, even after everything said and done today, as it had been before. “I’m sorry, Elle. I’m so goddamned sorry.” His fingers wove through my hair and massaged my scalp. He was calming me—comforting me.

Cole had gone from a heartless monster to this caring creature in the span of ten minutes. His mood swings were impossible to keep up with, but right now, having him close and feeling the emotions I had for him charge back to life, it was worth it. As intimidating as violent mood swings were, feeling his gentle fingers tangle through my hair as his strong arms held me made it all right.

“I said those things and did those things because you’d hurt me,” he continued, whispering just outside my ear. “And I wanted to hurt you. I wanted you to feel the same way I did when I woke up and found you gone. I wanted you to feel the anxiety I felt when I tried calling you and you wouldn’t answer. I wanted you to feel the anger I felt when I showed up at the diner and watched you through the windows for a few minutes. Serving and talking to guests like it was just another day. Like you hadn’t just broken my heart.”

I wanted to interrupt him. To explain I hadn’t taken any of his calls because my phone was shut off all morning. I’d never considered in my hopes of avoiding my dad’s and Logan’s calls, I’d also miss Cole’s.

“I wanted you to feel the rage boil in my blood when I found out you were going on a date . . . with
him
tonight,” he cursed the word, “after being with me last night. I wanted you to feel the same pain I did. The goddamn same debilitating pain.”

I was silent. I couldn’t speak even if I’d known what to say. Whether it was feeling his arms around me or hearing his words, speech was impossible. Only when I felt him shift and adjust his arms did I find a few words.

“Mission accomplished. I couldn’t quite find the right word to describe it, but debilitating pain is just right.”

Maybe they weren’t the right words, but sarcasm seemed to be my default when I was around Cole.

He chuckled a few humorless notes. “I know it was a sick, messed up thing to do,” he said, pulling me harder to him. “I’ll never forgive myself for the things I did to you today, Elle.”

I’d already forgiven him.

“So where does that leave us?” I asked, holding my breath.

He squeezed me tighter before his arms loosened. “An ocean apart, Elle,” he breathed. “An ocean apart.”

I shook my head against his chest. “No, Cole.”

“Yes,” he replied, running his hand up and down my spine. “You might care for me, but you chose him. You’re here with him. That ring is still shining bright on your finger.”

“I haven’t chosen him,” I said, fisting my hands into his shirt. I wasn’t going to let him go. “I haven’t chosen anyone. I just met you, Cole. I’ve known Logan since I was a little girl. I can’t just figure this whole thing out and break someone’s heart in a couple days. I need time.”

“You don’t need time to know what’s in your heart,” he replied, as calm as I was frantic. “You’ve chosen him and you were right to. I can’t say if he is, but I do know I’m not the right guy for you.”

The first tear I’d been holding back leaked out of the corner of my eye. It dissolved into his shirt.

“I might have only known you for a week, but it’s long enough to know you’re a special girl. You’re the kind of girl guys will still be mourning a couple decades from now. I know I’ll be one of them.”

I shook my head against him again. Out of the words and things Cole had done to me today, this was the most heartbreaking.

He cared for me. He wanted me.

But he was walking away.

“I need to let you go, Elle,” he said, letting his arms fall away. “But you need to let me go, too.” He looked at me now, but only to say goodbye. He took a step back, and then another.

My body went as cold as my thoughts. “No,” I cried, stepping forward. “Don’t do this, Cole. Stay with me.”

I could make my choice. It was an obvious one now. Hearing him say goodbye and walk away from me kicked my decision making skills into high gear. I wanted him.

I was a breath away from admitting it, shouting my choice for all to hear, when he gave me the saddest smile I’d seen to date.

“Just let me go.”

Watching Cole walk away brought me to my knees in a way that made it seem like I’d never be able to pull myself up again.

I wasn’t really living. I was more like surviving.

After that fateful conversation with Cole, I felt like he’d taken a piece of me with him when he’d walked away that night. A large piece. He was true to his word—he let me go better than I thought “letting go” could be done.

He didn’t take my calls, he never came back to the diner, he didn’t show up at the swimming hole. Other than running into him once at the gas station and being stopped beside him once at the same traffic light, Cole had become a ghost.

A ghost that haunted me at every turn.

It didn’t matter how hard I tried or how angry I got at myself for failing. I couldn’t get him out of my mind. I couldn’t get him out of my heart. I couldn’t get him out of anything.

So I stopped trying.

Once I gave up trying to think about Cole, I felt better. Marginally, but better. I accepted that he’d become a part of me and I had to learn to deal with it.

Last Monday, the whole crew flew off to a particularly nasty fire, for this early in the season, on the edge of the Wenatchee National Forest. So Cole was gone, and now that we were in the heart of fire season, he’d be gone more days than he’d be here at camp. Especially since everyone was saying they couldn’t remember such dry conditions this early in the summer.

Logan had also been gone. A few nights here, a couple nights there . . . baseball season kept him just as busy as fire season kept Cole.

So I was alone.

I suppose I could have used my newfound solitude to work out the fog of confusion that followed me everywhere, but instead, I used it to long for Cole and to let the guilt I had towards Logan consume my days and nights. Other than checking on Grandma M every morning and working double shifts at the diner, my life was as useless as I’d always feared it becoming.

Finishing up yet another long day at the diner, I said goodbye to the closing cook and server—I’d managed to get one night off from closing—grabbed my purse, and headed for my Jeep. It was almost eight, but still bright out, and I was half contemplating heading for the swimming hole and trying again for that sinking record when my phone rang.

I’d stopped hoping it would be Cole a week ago. Hope unrealized was poison in a person’s bloodstream.

When I saw who it was, I almost let it go to voicemail, but I’d let her last two go there and a third would warrant concern. Mrs. Matthews had considered me like her own daughter since Logan and I started dating and she was in my business accordingly. The last thing I needed right now was for her to call my dad to try to track me down, or worse, Logan. Knowing him, he’d be on the first bus home from Yakima to make sure I was all right.

Logan knew something was up; he wasn’t dumb. However, he didn’t have the first clue as to what. He guessed it had to do with graduating high school and saying goodbye to that part of our lives. He’d also guessed my funk had something to do with him being gone so much.

I still hadn’t had the heart, or the courage, to tell him the truth. Not that there’d been much opportunity anyways. Over the past week, I’d seen Logan all of three times. Once when I went to watch one of his night games. The second time when we’d gone out four-wheeling with a bunch of his friends, and the third time had been when he’d stopped by to have dinner with me at the diner before he left with his team on Friday.

My phone rang a fourth time and, this time, I answered it.

“Hi, Mrs. Matthews,” I greeted, trying to sound as upbeat as I didn’t feel.

“Oh, Elle. Thank goodness I finally got a hold of you,” she said. I could hear a lot of voices in the background, not that that was a huge surprise. Mrs. Matthews was the social elite equivalent here in central Washington. She hosted more get togethers and headed up more charity drives than the last ten White House wives combined. “I’m just finishing up with the Women’s Potluck here at church. We’ve got oodles of leftovers and I don’t want to see this all go to waste. I have to be at the final planning meeting of the year for next week’s big Fourth of July Festival and I wanted to see if you’d be willing to drop all this food off for me.”