Romance
Veils of Rivalry Chapter 57
POV Blaise
I
stare out the passenger window at the passing houses and trees. A dog barks behind a wire fence, and a bike lies abandoned on the sidewalk. It’s a rundown street in a shady neighborhood. I don’t ask questions. Cole is unusually silent, his grip tight on the steering wheel. The window is down, and a mild breeze rustles my hair as I turn my head in his direction. A muscle clenches in his jaw as he focuses on the road.
Sensing that he’s hurting, I reach for his free hand on his thigh and interlace our fingers. I want him to talk to me, but I know I can’t force Cole to open up. He has to do it in his own time.
Stroking my thumb over the silver rings on his fingers, I squeeze softly before looking out the window. We pass a series of boarded-up buildings with colorful graffiti—a sign of bored youth with little hope for the future. I’ve never been to this part of town. My dad has a good job. Expensive cars and enough Christmas gifts to sink a ship are all I’ve ever known. It’s easy to forget that Cole’s life would look very different today if his mother hadn’t left his father and married mine.
We pass a house that resembles a shoe box, and shame burns my chest. All the times I gave Cole grief, and not once did I stop to think about his past or the memories he’s forced to relive every time his dad makes contact despite the restraining order.
He pulls up by the sidewalk and cuts the engine. My eyes sweep over the houses. It’s another rundown street with rusty cars, littered, overgrown yards, and sagging porches.
With his hand hanging over the steering wheel, Cole points a finger at one of the shoe boxes farther down the road. “See that house?”
I peer through the windshield at the tiny white house with a broken wire fence and a yard that’s smaller than my bedroom. The screen door flaps in the wind.
“That’s where I grew up. Home sweet fucking home.”
My throat jumps, but I don’t know what to say, so I stay silent, sensing that Cole wants to share a small part of himself that no one else gets to see.
“When my dad came home drunk, Mom would make me hide under the bed to keep me safe.”
I tighten my grip on him in response, but he doesn’t seem to notice, lost in his painful memories. I wish I could reach him somehow.
“I could hear her cry while he hurt her. At first, I was scared, but then as I grew older, I felt…” His jaw tightens, and his chest expands on a ragged inhale. “I felt angry at him and myself. I hated that I was too small to protect Mom.” Looking away from the house, his hair flops over his forehead as he gazes down at our clasped hands. When he continues speaking, his raspy voice squeezes my heart in a vise. “I eventually built up the courage to crawl out from beneath my bed. I still remember how fucking scared I was when I told him in a shaky voice to stop hurting her. My body trembled as I fisted my hands.” Shaking his head as if to rid himself of the haunted memories, he stares out the window with a faraway look. “He laid into me like I was a fucking punching bag while my mom threw herself at him to get him to stop. She was too weak, but I still remember her beating his back.”
Tears glaze his eyes when he pulls his hand from mine and stares at his palms. “I pissed myself. That’s how scared I was.”
I suck in a breath, wishing I could go back in time to murder his fucking dad. Hell, I might just do it anyway, but it won’t wipe the pain from Cole’s eyes. Nothing will.
“That only made him even more angry, and he called me a pathetic coward before punching me so hard I flew into the wall and knocked a framed photograph to the floor. Guess what?” He looks at me, and I hold my breath. “It was a photograph of the three of us. We looked so fucking happy, smiling like the perfect family.” He laughs, but it’s a bitter, cold sound. “Such a fucking lie.”
His brows furrow as he reaches for my hand again, and he looks down as he slides his fingers across the lines on my palm. “He basically stabbed me when I fought back, and it got worse.” He gestures to his right leg, the tattoos covering the scars.
I can only stare at him, my heart breaking at the trauma.
“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have unloaded all this crap on you.”
“Fuck… Cole.” I sit up straight. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you brought me here.”
Those dark brows knit together, but he still won’t look at me. He’s embarrassed. I get it… It took him a lot to be vulnerable with me, and if there’s one thing Cole isn’t good at, it’s communicating. Somewhere in the back of that troubled mind of his, he thought the best way to let me in was to bring me here. Sometimes, actions speak louder than words, and now that I’ve been here and seen this sliver of his past, I feel like I know him more than anyone except for his mom.
I bring his hand to my lips and kiss his knuckles. Cole tracks my every move, holding himself back like he thinks I might strike. I want to scream, ‘You’re safe with me,’ from the fucking rooftops, but I communicate better through actions, too. We have that in common.
Grabbing the back of his neck, I pull him to me and pry his lips open with my tongue. We kiss out in the open for the first time, but Cole doesn’t seem to care that anyone could walk past and see us silencing his demons.
It’s not like any of our friends would see us here on this rundown street in these shady parts of town, but my heart still rejoices.
Breaking away, I nip at his kiss-swollen lips before exiting the car and sliding across the hood. My grin hurts my cheeks as I open his door. “Get out.”
He blinks at me and then scans the street.
“It’s my turn to take you somewhere,” I say, and Cole looks back at me. My smile grows impossibly wide. I rest my arm on the roof and lean into the car. Fuck me, I want to kiss him again, but I let my dimples out to play instead. “Scoot over, princess.”
That makes him laugh, and he unbuckles his belt and forces me back as he unfolds from the car. “Call me a princess one more time, and I’ll make you my bitch in the backseat of the car.”
“Woah,” I laugh as he rounds the front of the car. “Now that sounds like a promise, princess.”
Cole flips me off, then climbs in, and I can’t stop more chuckles from shaking my diaphragm. My gaze snags on the white house, and my laughter dies in my throat. This is the shadow his past casts on his reality, like a cloud in the blue sky, and one of these days, I’m going to make his father pay for the shit he put his son through. I swear to fucking god, I’ll make him beg for his life.