Serena woke up gradually, emerging from the dreamy haze of sleep, rolling over and rubbing at her eyes. Sunlight filtered in from behind the blinds she’d apparently forgotten to close the night before, and the bed was deliciously warm. Burrowing back down, she pulled the covers around her shoulders and closed her eyes, luxuriating in the hint of soreness in her muscles.
But then it all came back to her in a rush of heat—the reason she’d forgotten to draw her blinds. The reason why she was so sore. She shot up, blinking her eyes open as the too-bright world around her swam.
Cole. She patted the other side of the bed only to find it cold, and a sliver of ice formed behind her ribs.
He was supposed to be here. He’d finally broken down, that wall he kept around himself crumbling before her eyes, and then he’d given in. He’d kissed her. Her whole body tingled with the rush of sense-memory, and she dragged her fingertips over her lips just to remind herself it had been real. He’d put his mouth on her and made her come and made love to her.
She dropped her head into her hands. She’d given him a toothbrush, for God’s sake. Stripped down to his boxers and an undershirt and the brace around his knee, he’d curled around her, holding her as she’d drifted off into the deepest, most perfect sleep she’d had...maybe ever. And okay, he hadn’t actually said that he would stay, but she hadn’t been crazy to assume.
Unless she had been. Her heart gave a panging little squeeze. She’d pushed again, hadn’t she? The man was clearly still in mourning, and— Oh God. What if he hadn’t been ready? What if he regretted it—or worse, blamed her? She’d just been trying to offer him a little comfort.
And in the process, she’d taken exactly what she’d wanted from him all along.
Her eyes stung, and she punched at the mattress hard. Stupid. This wasn’t about her. She should’ve checked in with him more, should’ve asked him if he’d even wanted to stay at all. He’d seemed so into it, though. He’d seemed to want her.
When her lip threatened to wobble, she’d officially had enough. Flopping back down, she buried her face in her pillow and let herself have one frustrated scream. Then she’d pick herself up and march her way to his apartment. She’d make sure he was okay, and she wouldn’t press, and if he didn’t want this after all, she’d...well. She’d be devastated, but she’d accept it gracefully and then she’d come back down and have herself a good little self-pitying cry.
Nodding to herself, she dragged her face back out of the pillow.
And just about went out of her skin at the soft knocking at her bedroom door. A deep voice rang out. “Serena?”
Or he could totally still be here and she could be having a melodramatic fit.
“One second,” she called out, racing to catch her breath. She launched herself out of bed, skidding to a stop on the hardwood in front of her mirror. Her hair was a fright, but she raked her fingers through it the best she could. The tank top and shorts she’d gone to bed in were her least unfortunate ones, and he’d already seen her in them at this point, so there wasn’t much sense freaking out about them.
Turning, she grabbed her robe off the back of the door and slipped her arms into the sleeves. Wrapping the tie around her waist, she squeezed her eyes shut for half a second to try to get some sort of composure.
Ugh, it wasn’t any use. She was giddy as she flung the door open.
And there he was. In an undershirt and his dress slacks from the night before, cheeks dark with stubble, his always messy hair a fraction worse than usual, and she adored it.
“You’re here,” she said, breathless, and she could have slapped herself.
But the line of his mouth lifted into the most beautiful smile. “I am.” He glanced past her toward the rumpled mess she’d left of her bed. “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“I wouldn’t have minded.” Her face flashed warm. She wouldn’t have minded at all. She was usually an early riser anyway, and waking in his arms, held safe against the warm solid bulk of his chest...
Maybe rolling over into soft, perfect morning kisses, him hard against her, broad hands sliding up her thighs toward her hips...
She was snapped out of the fantasy when his smile wavered. “Are you all right? I thought I heard...”
Right. Because instead of morning kisses, she’d woken to a big fat load of morning panic. Her flush deepened, but it wasn’t a sexy flush, this time. Caught off guard, she cast about for any kind of a reasonable explanation for the noise she’d made, but came up blank.
Fortunately, she was saved when a whiff of something amazing reached her nose. Her eyebrows rose. “Did you cook?”
He shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”
He passed it off as casual, but the way he said it made it sound like that wasn’t exactly something new for him. She paused. Her hand seemed to lift of its own accord, reaching out to touch his chest, and she almost stopped herself. But she could do that now—touch him when she wanted to. After last night, she could probably do a whole lot more. The headiness of it was a rush after so much time spent holding back.
Watching his reaction, she let her palm settle over his heart. “What about you? Are you okay?”
Her concerns this morning might have been overblown, but they hadn’t been unwarranted. He’d been through a lot last night.
Curling his fingers around her wrist, he let out a long breath that made his ribs rise and fall. “I am, actually. Better than, even.” The corner of his lips twitched, like there was more he had to say, but he thought better of it. Taking her hand in his, he tugged her in the direction of the kitchen. “Come on. You must be famished.”
She was, actually.
It only struck her as she fell into step behind him that he was using just one crutch. “How’s your knee?”
“Dreadful,” he said, all cheer, and there was definitely a limp to his step, but he didn’t seem to be letting it hold him back.
She frowned, but whatever protest she might have made got lost as she turned the corner into the kitchen. Her eyes went wide. “Wow.”
When she couldn’t sleep, she read or did crossword puzzles. Apparently, Cole power-baked. The little table in the corner was covered in what looked like scones and maybe even some cinnamon rolls and she didn’t even know what else. Half a dozen batches, at least.
Letting go of his hand, she stepped forward. “When did you wake up?”
“A few hours ago. I have a hard time sometimes, and...” He trailed off.
“And?” she prompted, glancing back at him.
His throat bobbed. “And we may have dredged up a few things last night.”
She turned around at that, the table full of sweets forgotten. Cole was leaning against the doorway, his one crutch tucked under his arm. There was something tired about him, though the shadows under his eyes weren’t exactly new. But the signs of fatigue weren’t what really stuck out to her.
He looked...looser somehow. Less weighed down.
“I...,” he started, before closing his mouth and beginning again. “What happened to Helen. I’ve never talked about it before.”
Serena’s heart skipped a beat. “Never?”
“No.”
He flexed his jaw, and something inside her ached. Approaching slowly, she crossed the space to him. She put her hand over his, stroking the points of his knuckles with her thumb. A little of the strain seemed to seep out of him.
“I’m glad you told me.”
“I’m glad you made me.” He flicked his gaze to hers, a softness creeping over his expression. “Serena, I—”
And she wasn’t sure she was ready for this. Whatever he was about to say, the gravity to his tone made the air around them go silent and still. She braced herself.
“Last night. It was a gift. A treasure.” He intertwined their hands, linking them. Making her hope that maybe the but that was hanging on the air wasn’t about to come down on her head. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Don’t—” Don’t do this. Don’t walk away.
The piercing darkness of his eyes robbed her of her voice. “But I want to. So badly.”
Her throat went dry. He didn’t have to deserve her. Love didn’t work like that. She shook her head, only for him to slip his hand from hers and reach up, cupping her jaw to still her.
“I don’t know what there is left of me to give,” he said. “But I want to give it to you.” He swallowed wetly. “I want to try.”
It was all she needed to hear. Vision blurring, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hauling him close. The heat of his palm came to settle at the small of her back, and he leaned into her. Burying his face against her neck, he held her close, and it was everything she hadn’t dared to hope for.
Blinking back the tears that clung from her lashes, she laughed. “I’d like that.”
She’d love that.
She’d love him. She’d love him until all the hurting pieces in him healed over, and then she’d just love him some more.
When he pulled back, she mirrored him, letting enough space between them so he could lean down. The touch of his lips to hers was like the sun rising inside her, and she opened to him, drinking in the light.
With a rough exhalation, he broke away. It was too intense, the way he gazed into her eyes. The grip of his hand at her side.
“I want to be so good to you, Serena.”
Only she heard the doubt inside that affirmation. A shadow of a cloud passed over the sun, and she fought to suppress her shiver at the sudden chill. Dropping her gaze to his mouth, she drew him in for another kiss.
Doubt was a thing for another time and another day. For now, he wanted to give her everything. He wanted to be good to her, and that was enough. If he couldn’t...
Well. At least they got to have this. For now.