Chapter Twenty-Eight

COLE

He dropped his keys on the table just inside the door and reached down to unlace his boots. Passing the fireplace, he paused, deciding, then stooped before the grate, tossing in a few logs and lighting a flame.

The fragrance of phosphorous and the crackling of burning logs drifted through the house as Cole made his way to the kitchen, trying not to look at the holes on the wall above the dining table.

He’d patch them tomorrow and cover them with paint, but somehow the whole house felt vacant without that guitar. As if he’d given away the last of his childhood.

But he’d put the money to good use. A sound investment. He was almost grateful for Linus’s evil manipulation.

He yanked open the fridge, his stomach rumbling, his limbs quivering from lack of sustenance and the ebb of his adrenaline.

He was tired, putting in twelve-hour days to get the shop done for Haley. But being around her every day was worth it.

Spying a plate covered with tin foil, Cole found dinner. Leftover pizza. What else? He set it on a paper plate and tossed it into the microwave.

Waiting for the pizza to warm, he faced the wall where the Stratocaster once hung. When he’d called Dad to tell him the news, he broke down, and it was all Cole could do to get off the phone before his own heart collapsed with emotion. Worse than your mom crying was hearing the sobs of your father.

“Thank you, son, thank you. This means the world to me.”

Cole grinned, remembering Dad’s “that-a-boy” when he told him what Linus paid for the guitar.

“Good going, son.”

Son. He was his father’s son. If God could overlook his sins, why couldn’t Cole overlook his father’s? Dad’s brokenness humbled Cole, and in recent days he found it a bit easier to let go of the past.

He gave Dad half the money. Deposited his half in the bank, grateful to have a backup for himself, for the wedding shop, and maybe someday soon, a nice engagement ring.

The microwave beeped. Cole retrieved his plate and a bottle of water and walked to his chair. Should be a good basketball game on tonight.

He was surfing channels when a booming knock rattled his door.

“Cole! Open up. Cole!”

“Haley?” He opened the door, stepping aside to let her in. “What’s going on?”

She breezed in, her bold fragrance matched by her bold countenance. “Better yet, what’s not going on?” Her smile owned the room. You’re no match, flickering fire.

Cole’s fingers ached to touch her, pull her to him, smooth her hair away from her face and—

“I have the key to the storage room.” Haley marched into the kitchen, a force of energy, whipping a key out of her pocket. “My mother had the key.” She slapped it on the kitchen island, then glanced at the wall, frowning. “Hey, where’s your guitar? The one in the case?”

“I sold it.” He set his pizza and water down, stretching for the key. “Your mom had this? Where’d she get it?”

“You sold your guitar? Why? You loved that thing.”

He waved her off. “Haley, how did your mom get the key?”

She angled his way. “Ready for your blue eyes to be blown out of your head? Miss Cora was Mom’s sister.”

“Look.” He pointed to the floor. “My blue eyes, on the floor. How is your mom Cora’s sister?”

“According to Mom’s Facebook post version—she’s very brief with her news reports—her father, my grandfather, married a war widow in 1946 and a year later my mom comes along. Cora was from his first marriage, and she was the same age as my grandma. Can you imagine?” She made a face. “Anyway, Grandpa was in his sixties when Mom was born. Cora was like forty-seven years older. Old enough to be her grandmother.”

Cole shook his head, leading her into the kitchen, dropping a slice of pizza onto a paper plate for her. “You read about stuff like this, but wow . . . Were they close? Is that why your mom was against the shop?”

“She won’t tell me the rest of the story, but, Cole, she gave me the key and a check for ten grand. Said she wanted to support me. Not the shop so much, but me.”

He roped his arm about her shoulders. She tucked nicely under his side. “We almost have the money we need to finish up. By the way, I got the electrician and plumber bills. They didn’t charge us labor. Just for materials.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Never say God is not a God of miracles.”

“I never said that.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

“You just said, ‘Never say God is not a God of miracles.’ ”

“It’s a figure of speech.” Cole kissed the top of her head. Their eyes met and she stepped away from him. But he reached for her hand. “Haley—”

“Cole, what are you doing?”

“I-I . . .” The microwave beeped, calling a time-out as he struggled to speak his heart. His blood moved through his veins like the spring river.

Haley moved to the other side of the island, pointing. “The microwave—”

“I heard.”

Retrieving her pizza and setting it in front of her, Cole scanned her face with a quick gaze and reached for a napkin from the holder on the lazy Susan. “It’s two-day-old pizza.”

That’s his great line? The age of his pizza? Behind his ribs his heart pounded out his desire. His lips buzzed, eager to taste hers.

“G-good pizza,” Haley said, swallowing a hot bite, dabbing her lips with the napkin.

Silence. Not the good kind that came from sweet, easy company but the kind that came from his awkward, clumsy stupidity.

Cole walked around into the living room for his cold, waiting slice of pizza. He took a big bite but his appetite had waned.

From her end of the island, Haley worked on her pizza, gazing up at him. “If you kiss me, it could get complicated.” She dropped her focus back to her plate. “I’m still not looking for a relationship.”

Cole shoved his pizza plate forward and propped against the counter. “Kiss you? What? Is that what you think I was going to—”

She laughed, pressing her fist to her lips and a mouthful of pizza. He reached for the fridge, getting her a bottle of water.

“Okay, yes, I was going to kiss you.”

After a long swig, Haley smiled and patted her hand on top of his, sobering. “You . . . you were the cutest boy in class since I could remember. Smart. Sweet. Grew up to be a man’s man, you know, despite all that happened with your dad.” Her blue eyes met his. “But you were Tammy’s. Always Tammy’s.”

Cole captured her hand and drew her to him, touching his forehead to hers. “Tammy’s not here.”

“I know, but—” Haley tapped her heart. “She’s here. Besides, I’m not ready . . .”

“Haley, I’m not Dax.”

She pulled away. “I know, and if anyone has a chance, it’s you, Cole. I just need time . . . to adjust. To heal. Forgive myself. For being fooled. I just want to make sure my head is on straight and my heart is really rooted in what God thinks of me, not some man.”

He nodded, liking the feel of her subtle yield. “Fair enough, fair enough.” Spying his pizza, he went for another bite. “When Tammy and I broke up, I wondered the same thing for a while. How could I have let it get this far? Mom could tell something was bothering me about the wedding, and she said if I was getting cold feet, then I should remember I was committed, and commitment could go the distance when love failed. And love went the distance when the commitment was tested. Add God to the mix and there’s the cord of three that can’t be broken. Even if we’d married, I think we would’ve made it. It would’ve been work, but we’d have done okay.”

“Doesn’t sound very romantic, does it?”

He laughed low, to himself. “You sound like Tammy in the end. ‘You didn’t even really propose,’ she said.”

“So how is what you feel for me, if you feel anything, different than with Tammy? That’s my struggle, Cole. Can I trust you? Myself? How do I know what I feel for you, that is, if I feel anything for you, is not the same blind love I felt for Dax? I don’t want to ever be controlled and manipulated by a human being again.”

“You’re not Tammy. I’m not Dax. That’s a huge start. Please don’t lump me in with that muscle-bound womanizer.”

She tried to smile but her eyes filled with sorrow. “Haley . . .” He reached for her, drawing her around the island to him. “You make my heart beat faster. You crowd my thoughts. When I’m not with you, I want to be with you. When you walk into the shop, my whole body smiles. Every day is a good day when you’re in it. I want to talk to you, listen to you, hear what’s going on in your life. I pray for you. I want the shop to work because it would make you happy.”

“What you just said”—tears dripped from the corner of her eyes—“is by definition love. D-do you love me?”

He stood back with an exhale. “Kind of awkward to confess it like this, but yeah, I think I do.”