“Why do you own a bar you don’t have time to run?” Questions fell from my lips before I had time to monitor what I was saying to him. I hoped that I wasn’t coming across as nosy or asking for too much information.
“My dad worked in construction his whole life. I took over his business. Ryan never had any interest in Dad’s business, or any real talent, for that matter.” He smirked faintly before continuing. “I’m good at it, envisioning things and then creating them. I enjoy it.” He paused for a moment. “So, Mom and Dad helped Ryan buy his bar and I took over the family business. But it wasn’t long before I saw the value of what Ryan had as well. His business is more social, his customers are like family. I bust my tail day in and day out and make good money for it, but there’s no laid-back element to any of it. So, in essence, I suppose you could call this place my retirement fund.” He shrugged, and I watched his gaze scan the room, looking hopeful that the interactions within these walls truly held the key to the contentment he hoped to find one day.
I emptied my coffee cup and set it down beside Cole’s on the table. I wanted to ask what Ryan thought of his brother owning a bar as well, but I knew it was none of my business. Cole poured us both another cup of coffee without hesitation and I smiled when I realized that I was happy he wanted to continue our talk.
“I like it here,” I said, watching a short girl in cowboy boots step up onto the stage and begin to tune her guitar.
“Enough about the bar, Amy. I want to know more about you.”
I glanced at Cole and saw the flicker of sincerity in his eyes. Then, he nonchalantly slid his arm along the back of my chair.
“There isn’t much to tell, really.” I looked down at my cup again, feeling as though the conversation was suddenly on shaky ground. I wasn’t going to get out of talking about myself, but I didn’t feel like I even had something trivial I could tell him that would keep me from seeming too secretive.
“You know I have a brother who happens to be your boss and that I own a construction company and a pub. Not to mention the information I gave you on that brothel in New Zealand. It’s definitely your turn to divulge something about yourself,” he insisted, raising his eyebrows.
I laughed, biting my lip as I thought about what to tell him. “I’m from California, but I moved here more than a month ago. I used to work at a hair salon. And I want you to know that I don’t want to know anything more about that brothel in New Zealand.”
We both laughed. I couldn’t help but notice how sexy he sounded, and the fact that I even realized it made me stiffen slightly. I didn’t consider myself damaged or broken, just a girl who’d been in a bad relationship. I wasn’t the first, and I wouldn’t be the last. But I did believe I should be more wary of the opposite sex, yet, here I was picking up on the attractiveness of a stranger’s laugh. The realization made me hopeful; maybe I wasn’t a lost cause after everything Ethan had put me through.
“You’re a hair stylist, huh? Maybe you can fix my mop of hair for me sometime,” he said as he ran his hand through his shaggy dark hair. I arched an eyebrow as I watched him.
“There’s nothing to fix,” I replied, blushing when I realized I was flirting. My mind wandered to a mental image of what it would be like to run my own fingers through his hair. It was certainly an inviting thought.
Calm yourself, I thought silently. He shrugged as if he took my word for it, the corners of his mouth turning upward. He knew I’d been flirting, too.
He pushed the sugar bowl and milk pitcher toward me and I absently began to add sugar and milk to my coffee.
“Why’d you leave California for a place like this?” he asked.
I was immediately unsure of how to respond. How could I possibly tell him that I’d run from my raving lunatic of an ex-boyfriend and chose this town because it seemed to be the opposite of everything my life in California had ever been? How could I explain this was as far as I had made it on the bus when I ran out of money to make it any farther? I shook my head slightly.
“Bad break-up, I guess,” I finally mumbled.
Cole’s gaze shifted and I knew he felt the mood change between us. I had as well. He carefully nodded and seemed to think about his next words before actually verbalizing them.
“I’m sorry. Had you been with him long?”
I looked down at my coffee as I poured a little bit of milk into it. “Eight years. Since high school.” I paused and then looked over at him. “We don’t have to talk about this.”
“Me too.”
“I’m sorry?” I said, confused by his statement.
He took a long sip from his fresh cup of coffee and then put it back on the table. “I’ve recently gone through a bad break-up, as you call it, as well. We’d been together for five years.”
I nodded, realizing the look in his eye had been one of understanding. He knew what it was like to suddenly start over, left alone to pick up the broken pieces.
“Our break-up wasn’t mutual,” I stated, immediately regretting my words. I wasn’t sure why I had been compelled to say them.
Cole gave me a sad smile. “Neither was ours. She cheated on me. I caught her.”
My heart broke for him. He’d been blindsided by the ordeal; I could tell the pain was still as fresh and real as the day he had witnessed it.
“I’m sorry, Cole.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. Perhaps it was best to change the topic of conversation to something less serious. Something less personal.
Cole didn’t seem ready for that. “She’d been discussing marriage with me while secretly having an affair with my best friend. It’s funny how you think you know some people, huh?” He forced a laugh, but I could tell we may have veered down a path that was too much for both of us to handle. Thank God neither of us was drinking alcohol.
I nodded in response. “Maybe we never really do. Know people, I mean. They only show us the sides of them they want us to see, you know? With some people, we don’t know enough and we end up getting hurt. With others, we know too much and still wind up hurt. It’s definitely a lose-lose situation sometimes.”
Cole arched an eyebrow, obviously contemplating this concept. “And which was it for you and your ex, Amy? Did you know too much or not enough?”
I had set myself up for this without meaning to. I shrugged like it was no big deal. “I knew too much, Cole. I left him because of it. I still wonder about what he saw, what he thought, what he did when he came home that evening and saw I was gone.”
I stared into my coffee cup, realizing this was the first time I had voiced my thoughts about Ethan’s reaction to my departure. I had laid in bed many nights visualizing his anger as the realization washed over him that I had done exactly as he told me not to. Had he screamed my name? Broken things? Even without seeing it, I knew he had. A shiver ran down my spine.
Cole looked at me intently. “You left him without him knowing about it until afterward? Wow, that’s harsh.”
My jaw went slack and I stared hard at him, appalled. “Harsh? No. Harsh is being hit, treated like property. Harsh is when my life is at risk if I ever even think about leaving. Harsh is being made to do things that are unspeakable in common conversation. That’s what harsh is, Cole.” The words toppled out of my mouth before I had a chance to rein in some of the hostility and defensiveness that accompanied them. I sighed, immediately regretting the outburst. “I’m sorry,” I added after a moment of silence passed.
Cole shook his head, obviously abashed. I saw his fists clench tightly and his knuckles grow white due to the pressure. “Please don’t be, Amy. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I didn’t know the situation. I never meant anything by it, I swear.”
I was more than a little surprised when he reached for my hand and squeezed it gently. “And I’m so sorry your ex-boyfriend did those things to you,” he said, his voice low and sincere. I nodded in response, closing my eyes momentarily to recompose myself. When I opened them, Cole was still looking at me as if I were a wounded animal. I
slowly pulled my hand out of his.
“I guess I’ve kind of made our night take a bad turn. I’m sorry for that,” I said, feeling sheepish and unsure how to salvage the remainder of our evening together.
Cole shook his head. “I was actually thinking quite the opposite. That’s the most honest thing someone has said to me in a long time. While it wasn’t something I’d ever enjoy hearing, the honesty in your words to me is something I highly value. I respect that more than you know, and I know it must have been hard to share that kind of information with me.”
I gave him a small smile and nodded in understanding. Unfortunately, I had drawn the conclusion that it was probably better for us to end the night on this note than to suffer through any awkwardness that might follow. Besides, once my defenses were up, it was usually a bit difficult for me to get past the edginess that came with it. As much as I had enjoyed Cole’s company, I was more than ready to go home for the night, and I told him so as politely as I could. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt his feelings any more than I had already.
We gathered our jackets and belongings and carefully navigated out through the diminishing crowd. It was then that I realized I hadn’t even paid attention to the music of the woman who had taken the stage after the long-haired man. Hopefully Cole’s pub invited her back to play again so I could form my own opinion of her talents on a night where I wasn’t so absorbed in conversation.
The truck was cool inside and Cole fiddled with the buttons on the dashboard to crank up the heat while I buckled my seatbelt and placed my purse on the floor. I heard the fans start to whir and I smiled, turning to see Cole staring at me wearing a similar expression himself.
“I had a really great time tonight, Amy,” he said with a hint of nervousness. The hint of a grin playing on his lips was cute, maybe because of the shyness it conveyed.
“Me too.” My voice was quiet, but it was good to know I hadn’t completely ruined the night by ending our conversation the way I had.
Cole put his hands on the steering wheel but didn’t turn his gaze to the windshield. He bit his lip pensively as though he was debating something, then shoved his hand deep into his jacket pocket and dug out a folded piece of paper. He held it out to me. I plucked it from his fingertips and realized it wasn’t paper at all, but a napkin with his pub’s logo on it. Scrolled across it in the same easy handwriting I’d seen once before were the words.
You looked beautiful tonight. I’d like to see you again, if that’s all right with you.
I glanced up to meet his eyes and saw him leaning against the steering wheel watching my reaction closely.
“I’d like that, Cole,” I said out loud.
I hadn’t even given myself time to come up with some noncommittal reply. I wanted to see him again, and I didn’t feel like pretending I didn’t want to. He grinned in return and let out an easy breath. His relief at my response was obvious, and this made me smile a bit more freely. He turned to sit facing frontward in his seat and shifted the truck into drive.
“Let’s get you home,” he said with one last look in my direction before maneuvering the truck out of the parking lot.
I tucked the napkin into my purse and turned my head to him again. “Why do you write little notes like this to me?” I didn’t want to sound rude or lead him to believe I didn’t like the gesture, I just had never met anyone who’d done such a thing more than once.
Cole chuckled softly, casting me a sideways glance. “I did it the first night I met you. I just thought it would be fun to give you another on the first night I actually got to really talk to you.” He glanced back at the road then shrugged. “Besides,” he added, “The truest words should always be written, not spoken, so that they may be kept and revisited. Then we can see them and remember them when we need them most.”
My cheeks flushed pink but there was no way I was going to argue with such poetic logic. I did, however, tuck my hand into my purse and hold the napkin gently between my fingertips as we drove home. If words could be kept and held onto, I wanted to keep and hold onto these.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I spent the next morning replaying my evening with Cole and our subsequent conversation in my mind while I sipped my coffee and ignored the disheveled state of my house. I knew a bit more about him, but there were still so many questions that begged to be answered. What little I had learned about him had almost generated more questions instead of less.
I wanted to know why Ryan had chosen not to reveal to me that Cole was his brother. Perhaps he hadn’t thought it was an important factor. If I had known, would I have still gone out with him last night? I think so. I mean, why not? It’s not the same thing as going out with your own boss. He was the boss’s brother. I wasn’t sure if that was still considered mixing my work life with my personal life or not. I shook my head softly, dismissing the thought for now. It would have to wait until I had more time to contemplate it. For now, I had more pressing matters to over-analyze.
Cole had been cheated on by his ex-girlfriend. They had been together a long time and the break-up between them was recent. Was going out with me purely a rebound reaction? Technically, I had just gotten out of a bad relationship as well, but, unlike Cole, my actions were the catalyst for that break-up and I had very much known it was coming.
Ethan may not have been aware, but I was. Because of that, I was not heartbroken over it. However, I would have taken the heartbreak of a sad ending of a meaningful relationship over the fear¸ anger, and emptiness I was left with from the remnants of my life with Ethan. I sighed, realizing I wasn’t really as detached from the effects of my break-up as I thought I would be.
Though I had gone out with Cole just once, and only as friends, his actions while we were together at his pub were not the actions of a man on the rebound. He wasn’t pushy, didn’t make assumptions as to how the night would or should progress, and not once did he actually make a move on me.
When he had dropped me off, Cole had offered to walk me inside.
“You live in the old Ainslie house?” he’d inquired, and I knew from his tone of voice that he was worried about my ability to live safely in a place that looked ready to be condemned at any given moment. He was a man who visualized and built new homes and structures on a daily basis. For that reason, I politely declined his offer. The decrepit features of the house were embarrassing enough without him actually seeing the dated and very old-lady-ish motif of the interior.
Just as I was about to bid him goodnight, Cole had leaned over in his seat and given me a quick peck on the cheek. It was short and sweet, but I was still a bit taken back by it. He gave me a faint smile when he realized he had rendered me speechless, and then told me again what a great time he’d had.
With the promise of seeing him again soon, I said goodnight and wandered into my house in a daze, unsure of what I had gotten myself into but knowing that not only was I scared of whatever it was, I was also excited and maybe even happy about it.
If only Ethan could see me now, I thought with a sneer of satisfaction. Immediately, I recanted that thought, hoping and praying I would never have to see him again. Not even experiencing the satisfaction of Ethan witnessing me in some resemblance of actual happiness would be worth having to face him now. He was a brutal human being and I wondered again whether or not I had actually gotten away with running from him. Forever, his last words would haunt me.
Try to leave me, Amy, and I swear to God I will hunt you down and kill you. You’re mine, remember that. He’d squeezed my jaw tightly between his fingers, crushing me against the wall as he stared intensely into my eyes with the harsh smell of liquor on his breath.
Harsh, that was what Cole had called my decision to leave Ethan without advising him first. I had never meant to jump all over Cole the way I did, but after spending the last few weeks without once mentioning Ethan or the fact that I had even left someone back home, I did not expect to be labeled as harsh by the first person I confided in.
Could I even call it confiding? Hardly. It surprised me that I had even put forth as much information as I had. Perhaps he didn’t know the whole story, and I wasn’t sure I would ever be willing to tell it in full, but he did know bits and parts of the life I’d led for the past eight years.
He knew Ethan had hit me, threatened me, and been nothing short of cruel at times. I had been upfront and honest with him, even if my confession had not exactly been given on purpose. But maybe it was better that way. Maybe it was best to get it out in the open in the beginning so he wouldn’t find out about it later on and deem it too much to handle. It was my past and I could not change it, so if Cole had any intentions of being a part of my future, perhaps it was just as well that he found out now about Ethan. Just in case.
I wondered if I would ever be able to stop looking over my shoulder. I had moved three states over and left everything as it was in his house save for the few things I could fit in a back pack and a plastic bag. I had canceled the credit cards I had, mainly because Ethan’s name had been on them as well.
I had left no forwarding address, no note of explanation, nothing. What little family I had was in California and I had purposefully traveled in the opposite direction of where anyone I knew lived. I wanted to start over. I wanted a new life where no one knew who I was and no one knew Ethan. The problem was that the question still weighed heavily on my mind and taunted me endlessly with each day that passed.
Had it been enough?
CHAPTER TWELVE
I strolled through the entrance of Rustic’s and struggled to close the door behind me as the wind blew heavily against it. I was a bit early for my shift but the thought of making myself a coffee and just being around other people seemed soothing at the moment. My mind had been racing since I’d gotten home from my outing with Cole the night before and I figured that maybe a little social interaction and a lot of caffeine would help ease the static in my head.
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