Chapter Thirteen

“Go Ronan. Go Ronan. Go!”

Finn sprang to his feet and cupped his hands around his mouth as he cheered. He’d plonked himself on his father’s lap at the start of the game, but he’d actually spent more time standing and cheering than sitting, especially after Cole had confided he was here specifically to check Ronan out for Griff King.

Finn had been team Ronan ever since, and he was now yelling himself hoarse as the player in question ran like a bat out of hell down the field, leaving everyone to eat his dust as he ran the ball over the line.

Finn turned to Cole and said, “Try!” and they high-fived.

Cole grinned at Finn’s enthusiasm and correct use of the lingo. Thanks to the clinic he’d run last week—god, was it only last week?—an explanation of the rules and terms had not been required, although Tad had asked some questions, to which Cole had responded.

“He is so good, Cole,” Finn said, excitement shining in his eyes.

Ronan Dempsey was very good. Gifted, in fact, especially considering he’d only started playing officially two years ago, at the age of twenty-three. But he’d come far in that time and was a true pleasure to watch. Griffin King had definitely made the right call.

If they could get him. Because there had to be scouts circling.

But Cole could bring to the table what rugby in the States couldn’t—serious money. Professional rugby players in the U.S. got paid a fraction of what they were paid elsewhere in the world, including Australia, and that was a big deal. Of course, money didn’t matter to some. They didn’t want to make such a dramatic move, and they wanted to play on their home soil. And Cole totally got that.

But there was no denying the career opportunities for rugby players outside of the U.S. were immense—including, probably more importantly than the money, some of the best coaches. Like Griffin King. And it’d be a real coup for the Sydney Smoke and Australian rugby as a whole to have Ronan Dempsey in their ranks.

If he wanted to jump ship.

Which was all a very good distraction for Cole, giving him something to think about other than how this day had not panned out the way he’d imagined. He’d been looking forward to showing Jane and Finn the sport that was as much a part of him as the air he breathed.

Looking forward to it—not dreading it.

Not dreading his first rugby game since the accident. That in itself was a revelation.

But now there was this third party ruining his vision, and it totally blew. He’d imagined Finn would be sitting on his lap, or Jane’s, at least. And he’d be sitting next to them, the woman and little boy who had come to mean so much in such a short space of time. Now he was sitting on one side of Tad, and Jane was on the other, and he had no idea if she was having a good time or even paying attention.

She seemed to be clapping at the right moments and appropriately excited when Finn looked to her for encouragement, but he itched to be closer. He wanted to put his arm around her, smile at her, and explain the play as it unfolded. Hold her hand. Stroke her nape. Buy her a beer and a hot dog. Lick ketchup off her mouth. Lean in and tell her how sexy she looked with her hair down and in that navy V-neck T-shirt with tough as nails emblazoned across the front.

Not that he could do those things without Tad here, either, because of Finn, but he wanted to, because she was—sexy and tough as nails—juggling everything the way she did and prioritizing her kid over everything else. Cole could tell Tad turning up unannounced had royally pissed her off. They may have only known each other for two weeks, but he knew every single nuance of her body, and she had not been happy.

Not that Finn or anyone else looking in from the outside—possibly even Tad himself, had she not taken him aside for a word—would be able to tell. She laughed and joked around with Tad and encouraged interaction and conversation between Finn and his father with apparent ease.

The woman was wasted in the renovation industry when she could have been a star player in the diplomatic corp.

It was obvious she wanted Finn and his father to have a good relationship. And he admired the hell out of her for that. Too many people couldn’t, wouldn’t, and didn’t put aside their differences for the sake of their kids in these situations, and it was refreshing to see that both she and Tad made the effort to put Finn and his feelings first.

Whatever Jane had said to Tad behind that closed door had obviously stayed there.

Suddenly Finn, along with most of the other people around them, gasped. “Oh no!” he said as he stood.

Cole realized he’d zoned out for a while and refocused. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but Ronan was lying in a crumpled heap on the ground, and for a moment Cole’s heart almost beat its way out of his mouth. An opponent in a number-ten jersey stood over him, and from the body language alone, Cole could tell there’d been some kind of—probably not accidental—contact.

But within seconds, Ronan had stirred and sprung to his feet, shaking himself off, giving his opponent a quick I’m-okay-mate nod of his head, and grabbed the ball, ready to play on.

“See, he’s okay, bud,” Tad said, giving Finn’s shoulder a squeeze as the crowd cheered.

Finn sat back on his father’s lap, satisfied that his hero was okay, but not before he shook his head sadly at Cole and said, “Reckon Coach King would have that man’s guts for garters if he’d hurt our Ronan.”

Jane blinked at her son. So did Tad. Then they both looked at Cole.

Pressing his lips together so he wouldn’t laugh, Cole nodded at Finn and said, “Reckon you’re right, mate,” then shrugged at Jane and mouthed “Sorry” over Finn’s head.

No more was said, but Cole knew he was going to chuckle about it later. Hell, he was going to be chuckling about it for a long time to come. And the way he’d said our Ronan, like Finn was part of this fact-finding mission, too, like they were a partnership…

Well, he’d remember that for a long time to come as well.

Another roar from the crowd dragged everyone’s attention to the play, and the last ten minutes of the game went quickly, with the Barbarians storming home winners, much to Finn’s utter delight. Tad pumped his fist in the air, and Cole realized that’s where Finn got it from as the kid followed suit, his fist smaller but no less enthusiastic.

But it was Cole, not Tad, who got the full force of Finn’s beaming smile. “That was so awesome, Cole. Can we go to another game sometime?”

A chink opened up in Cole’s heart. “Sure.” He smiled even though it felt like his face was going to crack. “Sometime.” He couldn’t bring himself to an outright no despite knowing it was highly unlikely. He had a new career to forge on the opposite side of the world.

If he wanted it.

As if Finn sensed his hesitation, he said, “Maybe after you’ve finished your job in Sydney?”

Jane, who’d been staring at her hands during the conversation, suddenly snapped her head up. “You got the job?”

Her attention was like a bolt of lightning to his chest. Cole’s gaze locked with hers. “Yeah.”

“Oh…that’s great,” she said, nodding and smiling. If she was annoyed that he hadn’t told her already, she didn’t show it, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she was hugging herself as she absently rubbed her arms. “Congratulations. You must be thrilled.”

“Hey, congrats, man,” Tad chimed in.

Cole barely acknowledged Jane’s ex or the undisguised glee in his voice. “Yeah…it’s great news.” Because he wasn’t about to admit his prevarication in front of Tad.

She nodded again but didn’t say anything as some spectators from farther down the bleachers wanted to pass, and they all stood. “We should go, too,” she said, gathering her bag. “Beat the traffic.”

Traffic was hardly going to be a problem when there’d been less than a thousand people in the crowd, but sitting around here was awkward as fuck, so…

“I’ve just gotta go and talk to Ronan for a minute,” Cole said as he dragged his wandering attention back to his purpose for being here in the first place.

“Oh.” Finn clapped his hands. “Can I come?”

“No, Finn,” Jane interjected, grabbing his arm as he made to follow, halting his trajectory. “Cole is discussing business with Ronan.”

“Oh, but Mom,” Finn said, entreaty in his voice as he folded his arms and begged her with his eyes and a little chin wobble.

It was so damn cute it almost sucked Cole’s breath away. He was going to miss this little guy like crazy. Taking pity on him, he squatted down to Finn’s level. “How about you let me have a chat with Ronan first, then I’ll wave you over when I’m done and you can meet him. Whaddya reckon? That sound okay?”

The chin wobble stopped as Finn gave a solemn nod. “Okay.”

“I bet Mommy and Daddy”—Cole was proud of the way it came out without so much of a hint of what he was feeling toward Tad and his untimely appearance—“could go and meet some other players with you in the meantime?”

The game was hardly a huge stadium event where players went straight to their locker rooms and the ground was off-limits to everyone. The players here were mingling on the field with members of the public, chatting, signing autographs, and posing for selfies with fans.

Finn looked up at his father. “Could we do that, Daddy?”

Tad smiled and held out his hand. “Of course, bud. Let’s go.”

Cole knew it was wrong to resent the other man. He was Finn’s father, and, apart from some initial wariness, he’d been fine with Cole. But in this moment, for reasons he didn’t want to explore too closely, he resented the hell out of him…

It took a few moments to get Ronan alone. He was popular with the crowd and really popular with the ladies. They wanted endless selfies, and, clearly not being a stupid guy, he obliged them all. Objectively, Cole supposed, he was a good-looking dude. He was tall and built, as were most professional footballers, his hair shaved all over to a number one, giving him a lean, kinda hungry energy. His little band of groupies had seemed to appreciate it, as they’d all asked to rub his head.

“My lucky charm,” he joked as he’d let them.

“Hey, Ronan,” Cole said, holding out his hand when it was finally his turn, resting his cane against his leg. “I’m—”

“You want to rub my head, too?” he said with a laugh, clearly cracking himself up, then stopping suddenly as realization dawned. “Oh my god. Cole Hauser?” Ronan’s face registered surprise, then creased into joy as he shook Cole’s hand vigorously. “I know who you are, man. I’ve followed your career since I was a kid.”

Cole gave a half laugh at the backhanded compliment. He could tell Ronan hadn’t meant anything by it, but hell if he didn’t feel fucking ancient all of a sudden.

“I was so bummed about the accident.” Ronan’s gaze flicked briefly to the cane, then back again. “Please tell me we’re going to be seeing you back on the pitch ASAP. I’m super stoked to see you playing for the Smoke.”

“Unfortunately not. I think my surgeon would kill me with his bare hands if I undid all his good work the first time I got tackled again.”

That’s what it had boiled down to in the end. The surgeon flat-out telling him he could walk or he could play football until his next big hit, but he couldn’t do both.

“Oh, man.” Ronan’s face fell. He was obviously devastated on Cole’s behalf, myriad emotions flitting across the younger guy’s features. Cole recognized each one, but, surprisingly, he didn’t feel them as acutely as he had. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.” It did suck. But it didn’t feel so bad anymore.

Ronan looked uncomfortable at the calm admission. Like he didn’t understand why Cole was so accepting of this terrible rugby-less fate. It probably seemed like a fate worse than death to a guy with the world at his feet, so Ronan changed the subject. “Man…what are you doing all the way over in the U.S. of A?”

“I’m here on…vacation.”

“Yeah? Well, hey.” He clapped a hand on Cole’s shoulder and urged him forward with him. “You should come and meet the guys. They’ll go nuts knowing you’re here.”

Cole halted after a couple of paces and steadied himself, causing Ronan to also put on the brakes. “In a minute,” he said. “I was hoping to talk to you privately for a moment.”

“You want to talk to me?” Ronan’s brow crinkled. “What about?”

“About your career.”

“My…career?” he said, his expression still puzzled.

“Yeah…you know. Where do you see yourself going?”

Cole saw the moment Ronan Dempsey registered that this wasn’t just two rugby players shooting the breeze. He stood a little taller. “Is this…a hypothetical?”

He lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “Sure.”

Ronan narrowed his eyes. “And in this hypothetical, is this you asking, or…?”

“It’s me.” Cole nodded. “For the moment.”

“I see.”

Cole wasn’t sure if Ronan did, but he was getting there. A group of women approached, all keen for selfies and a rub of Ronan’s head, and he obliged. Cole waited patiently. It was going well, he thought. He was actually…enjoying it. Ronan finished with his fans and turned his attention back to Cole. “Where were we?” he asked.

Like he didn’t know… “Ever thought about playing internationally?”

Ronan nodded slowly, obviously considering each question now, examining it for the true meaning. “Of course. If the right opportunity came along.”

“I imagine that’s a good possibility. You thinking anywhere in particular?”

“Lotta countries out there have amazing teams. Amazing programs.”

“That’s true,” Cole said. “Europe has very healthy league competition. Very lucrative. Italy, France…others. They’re all very good.”

“They are,” Ronan agreed. “Australia, too.” He paused for a second. “Of course, it’s all about the coach, really. That’s the ultimate decider for me.”

“Yep. That’s wise.” Ronan Dempsey was smart. Strategic. That would get him a long way. He could make a lot of money, or he could be up there with the best. It was gratifying to see that he recognized the difference. “Any coaches in particular on your hit list?”

“Well, sure…I mean, who wouldn’t want to be coached by Griffin King?”

Every hair on Cole’s body stood on end. He’d never been more idle in his life on a rugby pitch, but he’d also never felt so energized. Sure, it was a different kind of energy but no less real. The adrenaline rush was real. He and Ronan Dempsey were standing around talking—not even talking straight—they were having a conversation inside a conversation. But he was pumped!

“Right?”

“He’s one of the best. In fact, I’d go as far as to say he is the best. Why he’s not coaching the national team, I don’t know.”

No one really knew the answer to that, other than he’d turned it down continually for years. Cole suspected, as did pretty much everyone else, that the tragic and accidental death of his daughter many years ago had left him deeply wounded and intensely private. But it wasn’t his place to speculate, and he was as closemouthed about Griff with outsiders as any other member of the team.

“Their loss is the Smoke’s gain.” Your gain, he wanted to say but didn’t. “Well…” He stuck out his hand again. “It was great meeting you. Whatever happens, you’re going to have an amazing career.”

If Ronan was disappointed that this conversation seemed to go nowhere, he didn’t show it as he shook, which led Cole to believe he’d had this type of conversation more than once.

So, the sharks were circling…

“You got a card?” he asked.

A card? Jesus. Now that he hadn’t expected. Cole hadn’t thought about anything so fancy. This was just a conversation. A favor. Not his job. But it would be a good idea to have a contact number for Ronan. He unlocked his phone and handed it to the younger guy. “Put your number in here.”

Ronan smiled as he took the phone, and Cole glanced around, wondering where Finn had gotten to. His heart seized in his chest as he caught sight of him with Jane. They were standing in a little circle, talking to a couple of the other Barbarian players. One of Finn’s arms was hooked around his mother’s leg, the other hooked around his father’s, as a fly half showed Finn a neat trick with the ball, spinning it on his index finger. Finn was staring with rapt attention, paying no heed to Jane’s hand absently on his head sifting through his hair or Tad’s hand resting easy on his shoulder.

Tad said something that made Finn look up at him like he hung the fucking moon and laughed. The vision slugged Cole straight in the center like a ball catapulting into his gut. It’d been easy the past couple of weeks with Tad dicking around in Las Vegas to think of Finn as fatherless. To feel a connection with the boy born from their shared fatherlessness. But Finn wasn’t fatherless.

Sure, Tad obviously had reliability issues, but it was clear he loved his son—and, as Jane had mentioned, when he was present, he was present, being super attentive and engaging with Finn since he’d landed on them this morning. Maybe that was an act, but Tad was very comfortable in this role, supremely confident in his relationship with his son, and Finn certainly wasn’t faking his feelings for his father.

They looked like…a family.

Jesus. What was he doing? Dallying in Credence? Spinning god knew what kind of fantasies with a woman and a kid he’d known for two weeks. Why hadn’t he rung Mitch and told him to take the job offer? What was he waiting for? What was he hoping for?

He didn’t belong here. He should go back to Australia. Become a talking head on the TV.

So why did the mere thought of it make his chest tight?

Finn chose that moment to look over at him. He grinned that little-boy grin, then waved excitedly, and Cole smiled despite the knife slicing through his heart. He waved him over, and Finn didn’t hesitate, running at his usual breakneck speed. Cole braced for the impact to his legs, laughing as two little arms went around his thighs.

Jane was still in his line of vision, and he glanced up. She was smiling affectionately at her son. It faded as she raised her gaze and connected with Cole’s, her expression way more guarded.

“Thank you,” she mouthed. “Much appreciated.”

Cole’s heart banged like a funeral march in his chest as those two words—much appreciated—took him back to the beginning. He’d thought they’d moved past all that. She was withdrawing. Hitting rewind.

Pushing him away.

“This your boy?”

Cole dragged his attention from Jane, momentarily disoriented by Ronan and his question as Finn beamed up at them. No. He stroked Finn’s head. Not his boy.

“No. That’s my daddy over there,” Finn piped up, one skinny little index finger pointed to Tad. “This is my Cole.” He grinned up at Cole again, and Cole’s heart squeezed like a broken old piano accordion in his chest, wheezing and out of tune.

“This is Finn,” Cole said, pulling himself together to perform the introductions. “He’s my little mate, aren’t you?”

Cole wouldn’t have thought Finn’s grin could get any bigger. But it did. The little blond head nodded vigorously. “Like on Bluey.”

Ronan smiled but was obviously puzzled by the reference. “Don’t worry,” Cole said. “I have a feeling you’re going to know an awful lot about Bluey in the coming years.”

If Ronan moved to Australia, it’d be hard to escape the Bluey obsession.

“Okay then,” Ronan said cheerfully and held out his hand for Finn to shake, which he did with much solemnity. “How old are you, Finn?”

“Four.”

“You like rugby?”

Finn gave another vigorous nod. “Yes. Cole showed me how to play.”

“Well, you’re one lucky kid. Cole’s very famous.”

Cole cringed a little at the over-the-top statement as Finn gaped up at him. “You are?” He was obviously surprised at the news. “I thought you lived in Australia, not Hollywood.”

He laughed then, loving the mental leaps of a four-year-old mind. “I do. And I’m not famous.”

Ronan shrugged. “He is to me.”

Finn’s arm tightened around Cole’s legs. “Me, too.”

Ronan ruffled Finn’s hair this time. What was it with children’s hair that just made people want to ruffle it? “You want to be in the Cole Hauser fan club with me?”

“Yes please.” Finn’s eyes lit up, and when Ronan presented his fist, Finn automatically gave it a bump. Like he’d been fist-bumping rugby players for decades. “You were really good,” Finn said.

“Yeah?” Ronan grinned, clearly enjoying the boy’s admiration.

“Yup.” Finn nodded like he was a professional rugby pundit. “Cole said you were a bloody natural.”

Ronan laughed, and Cole almost choked as his words were parroted back. By a four-year-old. He really needed to be careful what he said around the kid. Tad probably already knew that.

“Ronan!”

“Sorry.” Ronan tipped his chin at the Barbarians coach who’d done the hollering. “I gotta go.”

“No worries,” Cole said, shaking his hand once again.

“If you’re sticking around Denver, give me a call. I’d love to shoot the breeze with you, man.”

“Ah…sure.”

Cole didn’t think Ronan was trying to curry favor or even take advantage; he seemed genuinely interested in chatting rugby, and Cole totally understood. If the positions had been reversed, he’d want to hear all the old war stories, too. But the truth was, he had no idea what he was going to do next.

He had planned on going back to Credence tomorrow with Jane. Finn was going back to California with his father. They’d be alone. No small boy or Houdini reptile to distract them. But now…he wasn’t sure. He glanced at Jane, still deep in conversation with the Barbarian’s fly half, and wished there wasn’t so much noise going on in his head when he looked at her. How was he supposed to decide anything about his future when just looking at her caused his head to fill and his chest to cramp and his groin to tighten?

His concentration was shot around Jane Spencer.

Ronan tapped the phone in Cole’s hand. “Call me. You have my number.”

That seemed a little more pointed, but Ronan didn’t press anymore, just presented his fist to Finn again. “Hope to see you around, little dude.”

Finn dutifully bumped. “Bye, Ronan,” he said and watched as the big American rugby player strode away. “C’mon, Cole.” Finn tugged on his hand. “Let’s go back to Mommy.”

Cole resisted the pull, and not just because he wasn’t sure if Mommy wanted him to go back at all. “You go on.” He smiled reassuringly at the boy. “I need to make a call.”

“Okay,” Finn agreed readily, skipping away with as much passion and commitment to it as he employed to his running.

Cole watched until he reached his mother, then dragged his eyes off Jane’s hand sliding around Finn’s little shoulders, forcing himself to concentrate on his phone. He hit the top number in his recent calls list and waited for it to pick up. He doubted it would take long and was unsurprised when it only rang twice.

“Well?” the gruff voice of Griffin King demanded.

“He’s the real deal.”

…

The next morning at just after nine, Cole was standing outside an airport bookshop while Jane took Finn to the restroom opposite and Tad browsed the shelves for something to read. Last night, they’d all dined at Olive Garden and gone back to Wade’s luxury apartment with its amazing view of the Rockies and Mile High Stadium, where once, a long time ago, Cole had actually walked and played on the hallowed turf.

It’d been a strange night, and Cole had hit the sack early, tired of feeling like a stranger now that the trio had become a quartet. Like he was suddenly on the outside looking in and something he’d never had himself and never really thought he’d wanted for himself was utterly out of reach. Which was irrational and exhausting, so it was better to be away from it.

But he’d tossed and turned all night on the couch in the third bedroom, which was done up as an office. The couch was like a fucking cloud compared to some he’d slept on in his life, but he still hadn’t been able to sleep for thinking about Jane. Knowing she was under the same roof and that she wasn’t coming to him was an utterly miserable feeling.

And it wasn’t about missing her physically and the sex he wasn’t getting, but about how much he’d just wanted to hold her. How much he missed listening to her talk about his damn stamped tin ceiling or common tile patterns in nineteenth-century fireplaces. He missed the sound of her voice and her snuggling into him, playing with his chest hair.

He’d wished she was beside him so he could…ground himself. Could ask her what he should do and why he was feeling so damn confused. Should he take the job, and if so, what did that mean for them?

Except there wasn’t a them, was there? There was Jane and Finn. And Jane and Finn and Tad. There wasn’t a Jane and Finn and Cole. He was…god, what was he?

Much appreciated?

“Are you in love with her?”

Cole had been so deep in thought he hadn’t heard Tad approaching, and the question hit him like a grappling hook to the face. His jaw clenched as he glanced at the other man, the latest Rolling Stone magazine in his hand. “It’s been two weeks,” he said, even as a pressure started in his chest.

Tad gave him an almost sympathetic smile. “I knew after two hours.”

Cole was well aware he wasn’t the only man to have been in Jane’s life, but this douche had cheated on her. Hurt her. He didn’t want to reminisce with Tad. He sure as hell didn’t want to confide in him. “And how long did it take her to fall for you?”

He gave a half laugh. “She’s a little more…measured them I am.”

Yeah. No shit. And then, fuck it, he asked the question he really wanted to ask. “Are you still in love with her?”

He didn’t think Jane was still in love with her ex. In fact, she’d sounded pretty fucking exasperated with him. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t still some of the old feelings left, and if Tad felt the same way, then maybe, given the right circumstances, that love could be rekindled.

Or so he’d read, anyway.

And if Jane was still holding a flame for Tad, then what was he even doing? Why would he get in the middle of that, when Finn could have his mum and dad back together? A father he clearly adored. Tad wasn’t Cole’s father. He may need to address his priorities, but he wasn’t an abusive asshole.

Maybe they could be a family again…

“No.” Tad shook his head. “I mean, I’ll always love her. She was the first girl I ever loved, and she’s the mother of my child. But I’m not in love with her. I was for a while after we split, but not anymore. I’ve realized I’m not a one-woman-forever kinda guy.”

Cole shuddered. Christ. That sounded awful. “Hey…whatever floats your boat.”

Tad laughed. “I like it. It suits me.” He regarded Cole for a beat or two. “Look…I had something great, and I messed it up. That was probably always destined to happen because I’ve always been a bit of a screwup, but Jane deserves better.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Tad gave a brisk nod, clearly not insulted by Cole thinking he was a screwup. “Now…correct me if I’m wrong, but you live in Australia, right? And she has a kid and a family and roots and a business she’s proud of that she built from the ground up here. On the other side of the world from you and your life. And dude, from what I’ve read, you don’t even have a job right now, and that’s been a pretty big bone of contention between Jane and me, so…if you can’t give her what she needs, then stop messing with her. She’s a good person, and she doesn’t deserve to be hurt again.”

Cole’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like that he was agreeing with Tad this much. But for her to be hurt, she’d have to care, to be invested in what they were doing. There’d have to be…feelings. They hadn’t talked about that. Or what came after. They’d talked a bit about their pasts but had mostly lived in the present.

They certainly hadn’t talked about the future.

“There they are,” Tad announced as Finn bolted out of the restroom and ran across the terminal to his father, expertly dodging a dozen or so people in the process. Jane followed at a more sedate pace. She was in capris and a T-shirt, her hair loose, and feelings crowded Cole’s chest.

Well fuck…

An hour later, he was waving to Finn as he disappeared through security, holding his father’s hand on one side and Carl in his small carry cage in the other. He didn’t know if Jane was going to cry or not, but he sure as hell felt a burning pressure behind his eyes, and he’d cried once in his adult life—when his mother had died.

Not even those painful months after the accident or when it had become evident he wasn’t going to play rugby again. But looking at the bob of that little blond head as he walked away from them, emotion welled in his chest. It was probably the last time he was ever going to see the kid.

Yes, he’d assured Finn that he’d come and visit him in California, because Finn had been upset Cole was going back to Australia soon and he wouldn’t see him again. But the reality of that was…unlikely. And he just hoped Finn would soon forget him.

Watching him now, chatting merrily to Tad as he skipped along beside him, it looked like he already had.

He slid a look sideways. Jane was still waving and smiling—just in case, Cole supposed—and it wasn’t until Tad and Finn turned a corner with one final wave in their direction that she dropped her hand and her smile and turned to face him.

“What were you and Tad talking about before? When we were in the restroom?”

If she was emotional about Finn leaving, she wasn’t showing it. Or maybe she was and it was morphing into that old irritability from their first days together.

Their much-appreciated days.

The feeling that she was walking this—whatever it was—back returned. She was distancing herself. It was frightening how quickly the closeness they’d shared the past couple of weeks had evaporated. In less than a day, they were back to the beginning again, wary and standoffish.

“I guess he was…warning me off. Looking out for you.”

“Oh Jesus. Are you serious?” She crossed her arms and frowned at him. “What the hell is it with guys? I don’t need either of you looking out for me like I’m some nineteenth-century ingenue.”

“I know.” And he did know. He hadn’t started the conversation, for crying out loud. “Are you still in love with Tad?”

“What?” she squeaked as her frown morphed into a glare.

Cole shrugged. He hadn’t planned on asking that question, because he was pretty sure he knew the answer, but suddenly he needed to hear it—out loud. From her lips. “I know he exasperates you, but you get along very well. You seem…close, still.”

“Yes, he does exasperate me. No, I’m not in love with him. But he’s Finn’s father. He’s always going to be in my life. Always. Because he’s always going to be in Finn’s life. So I’d rather it be pleasant for everyone concerned than adversarial.”

That all seemed eminently sensible, but no, I’m not in love with him was pretty much the only thing Cole heard. A very definitive answer to his question, and a flood of who-knew-the-fuck-what rushed through his veins.

She dropped her arms to her sides, suddenly brisk and businesslike again as she performed a half turn. “If we leave now, we can be in Credence by one and I can do another sand of the floor.” She headed in the direction of the exit, and he followed, both of them dodging clusters of people and their pull along bags. “Have you booked your flight home yet?” she asked, not taking her eyes off her path.

Like Cole needed any further indication she was trying to extricate herself from their…situation. “Not yet.”

She glanced at him then, the sweep of her gaze on his profile brief and quizzical. “When do you start?”

“If I take the job? Two weeks.”

Jane stopping dead in her tracks almost caused a collision with the woman following directly behind. It was only fast reflexes that prevented the crash, not that Jane seemed to register the near miss as she stared at him with a cranky little V between her brows. “You didn’t take the job?”

Cole also stopped but slid his hand on to her arm and urged her to keep walking beside him. “I’m thinking about it.”

“Why?”

“I…don’t know.” He should have said yes on the spot.

“But…what’s to think about?” she asked as they stepped out of the terminal, a blanket of heat instantly enveloping them, the smell of someone’s cigarette smoke adding to the mix as they came to a halt again away from the main entrance doors. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

She looked genuinely perplexed, and it pissed Cole off. Sportscasting had been his best option at a life that still involved rugby, but did he want it? Really want it? He didn’t know. He wanted to be able to play rugby again, but even that ambition, when he looked at Jane, became fuzzy and indistinct.

He needed some distance so he could make the right decision for his career. And make it with his head, not his dick. Not his…feelings.

“Come on,” she said, sliding a hand onto his arm. “It’s this way.”

But Cole didn’t move. He couldn’t go back to Credence with her. Back to the house. Back to her bed. Because they would end up back in her bed and muddy the decision even further.

“I’m going to stay in Denver for a couple more days.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Business,” he said, feeling crappy about being vague and lying, but he needed to sort his shit out, and he couldn’t do it with Jane filling him up twenty-four seven. Even now, her hand on his arm was being felt everywhere. “I’ll be back sometime in the week. Pick up my stuff and the rental car.”

Jane, Tad, and Finn had driven to Denver yesterday in her car rather than messing around with changing Finn’s car seat between the vehicles, and Cole had followed in Tad’s rental, which Tad had returned to the airport today.

“Sure.” She nodded, and it seemed evenly modulated and reasonable as she dropped her hand, but he could feel her take one more mental step back. And it was another little paper cut. “I can drive you somewhere if you like.”

“It’s okay. I’ll get an Uber.” He half turned and pointed behind him. “That’s them over there.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll…see you later?”

“Yup.” Cole jammed his hands in his pockets, shit scared he was going to show that he was much more affected by this than her by reaching over and scooping her up.

She gave him the saddest of smiles then, hinting at a thousand regrets, before taking two steps backward, turning away, and disappearing into the ebb and flow of the crowd.