Текст книги "Echoes of Scotland Street"

Автор книги: Samantha Young

Соавторы: Samantha Young
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“You’re welcome.” Why was this suddenly awkward? I frowned at him. He wouldn’t look at me and his tone was . . . weird.

He frowned at the television. “Next time wake me.”

I frowned in return. “Not if you’re exhausted.”

He ate instead of answering, that little furrow on his brow deepening.

Was he . . . “Are you annoyed I didn’t wake you or annoyed I didn’t stay in bed with you?”

He shot me a dirty look and I had to bite my lip from smiling at his endearing disgruntlement. “No.”

I burst out laughing because he was definitely put out. That was sweet.

Now he was glowering. “What?”

I shook my head, still chuckling. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever met who’s gotten pissed at me for not staying to cuddle.” I tried to swallow more giggles, but it was impossible.

To my surprise and delight Cole’s glower melted into a slow, wicked grin. “If you’re trying to make me feel emasculated, you’re wasting your time.”

“Oh?”

He put his plate on the coffee table. “I’m perfectly secure in my own masculinity.” His hand wrapped around my ankle and he pulled, sliding my body down the sofa toward him.

“You are?” I whispered as he moved over me, gently easing my legs apart.

He nodded, his green eyes hot. “And I’m about to show you why.”

“A demonstration,” I gasped as his hands slipped up my skirt. “How lovely.”

Laughter glittered in his eyes, a laughter that quickly turned to a smolder as he got down to the business of proving there was more than a little alpha male in him.

Afterward as I lay in his arms watching the television, I remembered to ask him about last night and sex on the kitchen table. His answer: “Missionary was out . . . It was the next best thing. And the kitchen table is sturdy.” He kissed me. “We broke it in.”

“The table was a virgin?” I said, eyes round with mock horror.

“Yes, but I’m sure it was painless for it.”

“Still, I wish I’d known. I would have been more of a gentleman.”

Cole burst out laughing—a deep, full belly laugh that I hadn’t heard from him until then. Knowing I’d made him laugh . . . well . . . it affected me. I spent the rest of the night fighting to ignore the warmth growing in my chest. I didn’t succeed.

Later, as he spooned me in bed, I was thinking of ways to protect myself from becoming addicted to him. The best option, of course, was to go cold turkey and end it before it really started, but I knew I couldn’t do it . . .

I cursed my willpower or lack thereof.

“You’re tense,” he said.

So I tried to relax.

I did not succeed.

Cole tightened his arm around me. “Everything’s going to be okay, Shannon.”

For some reason those simple words choked me up. Tears burned in my eyes and in my throat, and try as I might, I couldn’t stop them from falling down my cheeks. I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat, but I ended up making this dreadful almost, but not quite, sob.

It was Cole’s turn to tense and I suddenly found myself on my back as he leaned over me. Light from outside seeped through the blinds on his window to illuminate the concern in his eyes. “Shortcake,” he whispered, his fingers brushing my wet cheeks.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” I whispered back, brushing at them. “So stupid.”

“It’s not.” He shook his head and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “It’s not.” He rested his forehead against mine, hot air puffing over my mouth as he sighed. “If I was less of a selfish bastard I’d let you go.”

I reached for him, my fingers digging into his waist. I didn’t even realize I’d done it until Cole drew back to give me a small smile.

“I am a selfish bastard, though.”

My body relaxed under his, and his smile widened. To my everlasting appreciation he didn’t comment on the fact that my body clearly was at war with my brain.

“I can cheer you up.”

“I’m not sad . . . It’s just . . .” I shook my head and shrugged because I honestly didn’t know what I was feeling.

“Well, I can get rid of those tears . . . Joss invited you to her book launch on Thursday night.”

I drew in a breath, feeling a mixture of surprise, gratitude, and excitement. “Really?”

Cole’s whole face warmed with affection. “What do you say? Fancy being my date to it?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

He laughed and lay back down, easing me against him. “Apparently not.”

Smiling now, I wrapped my arms around him, snuggled my face into the crook of his neck, and tried to envision a real, honest-to-goodness book launch. Would it be swish and sophisticated? Wine and cocktails and fun literary chats?

Ooh, I’d have to dress up for something like that.

Ooh, and I’d also get my books signed by Joss.

Giddy now, I let the happy thoughts pull me into a deep, contented sleep.

CHAPTER 15

T he atmosphere at the bookstore on George Street was welcoming and relaxed. Although there were glasses of wine and champagne, there were also glasses of orange juice and water. The dress code was casual-smart, which kind of shot a hole in my plans to buy something a little fancier to wear, but it didn’t detract from the excitement of being at a book launch for one of my favorite authors.

Everyone was there except for the kids, Nate, Mick, his wife, and Hannah’s brother, Declan. Among the familiar faces were twenty or so strangers—all J. B. Carmichael fans. Joss’s readership was growing since her last book hit the e-book top one hundred. Cole had told me that there were only a handful of people at her last book launch, and it read on her face that she was a little taken aback by the fact that her popularity had quadrupled since last time.

Her husband stood at her side while readers came up to chat to her, and anytime he tried to give her space, she’d grip his arm and not so subtly jerk him back to her.

I snorted and Cole followed my gaze. “She never crossed me as the shy type.”

“She’s not. But she also hates being center of attention, so this sort of thing is her least favorite part of being an author.”

I grimaced. “I have to admit I’d probably feel the same way. I’m not a shy person, but that would make me shy.”

“Me too.”

“Really?” I said, eyeing him in surprise. “You? Shy?”

Cole grinned. “There is so much you don’t know about me.”

Before I could question him further, my curiosity was put on hold when Joss’s publicist cleared her throat and introduced Joss. Braden squeezed her hand and gently nudged her toward the center of the room where everyone was now gathering in a semicircle around her.

“Hey, folks.” She smiled at everyone, the natural coolness in her tip-tilted eyes warming anytime she made eye contact with one of her friends and family. “I want to thank you all for being here for the launch of my fifth book.” She appeared to relax somewhat as she continued on less formally. “You know, I’m extremely blessed to be surrounded by family and friends who all inspire me. Believe me when I tell you there is never a dull year in the Carmichael-Clark-Sutherland-MacCabe-Sawyer-Walker tribe.”

At that, said tribe all tittered, acknowledging the truth in her words. I knew there was truth in them because I had spent the last week asking Cole about these colorful, gorgeous people he was lucky enough to have in his life. Each one of them had a story to tell, and although he’d only given me the bare bones of them, I read between the lines and deduced their stories involved a lot of drama and plenty of heartache.

“That’s why the plot for this book came to me so easily—it’s inspired by one of my best friends. She knows who she is and I just wanted to say thank you for being you. You’re a true heroine . . . and your tale makes one hell of a story.” She grinned teasingly at the crowd and they laughed.

I looked around at all the women in Joss’s life, wondering who she was talking about.

“I’m not going to say much, because my husband will tell you I’m not much for speeches, but I want to thank my publisher, my editor, Audrey, who flew all the way from London to be here, my publicist, Bill, my friends, and most important, my husband, Braden, who after a long day at work will find ways to keep the kids entertained while I hole up in my writing cave. I like you.” She smiled at him. “A whole lot.”

Braden laughed and I knew instantly what Joss saw in him.

Yum-ee.

While Joss walked over to him and the crowds began mingling, Cole squeezed my waist. Gazing up at him, I found he had his eyebrows raised. “Braden’s forty-two,” he whispered.

Damn. He’d caught me ogling.

I shrugged, going for nonchalant. “A hot forty-two.”

He groaned as if in pain. “He’s like a big brother, as is Cam. Don’t call them hot.”

“I won’t.” I shook my head. “Besides, Cam is more sexy than hot.”

Cole made a gagging sound.

“And let’s not leave out Adam, and my gosh, definitely not Nate and Marco. Those two are smok—”

His large hand clamped over my mouth and I looked up at him from under my eyelashes, my gaze mischievous.

“Don’t say it.”

I promised him with my eyes that I wouldn’t.

Cautiously Cole removed his hand from over my mouth. I grinned. “I don’t see the problem with me admitting they’re all attractive. It’s not like you didn’t have a huge crush on Olivia.”

“That reminds me. I need to speak to Rae.”

“She’s been very forthcoming.”

“Stay here while I go find her and kill her.”

“She’s here?” I said, looking around the store for her.

“She came in while Joss was talking.” He stilled and I followed his gaze to see Rae in the corner laughing with Ellie and her mum. “I’ll be right back.”

“Cole,” I protested, but he was already striding off.

“Uh-oh, someone’s in trouble.”

I turned at Hannah’s teasing voice. “Rae. Rae’s in trouble.”

Hannah smirked. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“She told me about Cole’s crush on Olivia.”

Delighted, Hannah burst out laughing. “Oh man, I almost forgot about that.” Her eyes were bright with mirth. “She was his first big crush. It was so adorable.”

“Yup.” I giggled. “Which is why Cole’s going to kill Rae.”

“What are we laughing at?” Liv hurried over to us with Jo, her eyes filled with curiosity as she bestowed her freaking amazing smile on us.

My own gaze took in all her voluptuous gorgeousness. She wasn’t beautiful like Jo, or glamorous like Joss, or stunning like Hannah. She was striking and sexy with unusual golden hazel eyes and killer curves. No wonder Cole had had a crush on her. She was a teenage boy’s wet dream.

“Rae told Shannon about Cole’s old crush on you. He’s now killing her with words.”

We all stared across the room where Cole was laughing with Rae.

I snorted. “Well . . . he was . . .”

“I hope it doesn’t bother you . . .” Liv seemed unsure. “It was years ago. He was just a teenager.”

“Of course not.” I waved her concerns away.

“I’m just glad to see you getting along with Hannah.” Jo took a sip of her champagne while Hannah tensed beside me.

I reassured her with a grin. “Oh, you mean because all his ex-girlfriends were crazy people?”

Cole’s sister looked surprised. “Cole told you?”

“Yup. Don’t worry. I’m not blind.” I looked at Hannah now. “I can see you two are like brother and sister.”

Relief glittered in her pretty brown eyes and it occurred to me this was obviously something she had to worry about every time Cole started seeing someone new.

“Anyway,” I continued, “it’s not like Cole and I are anything serious.”

Just like that the mood in our circle changed. And not for the better.

Jo looked visibly confused and upset. “But . . . Cole doesn’t do casual.”

I opened my mouth to explain but found I really didn’t know how.

“Issues.”

I spun around to find Joss standing behind us, apparently listening in.

She waved her wineglass at me. “I can spot someone with issues a mile off.”

“Issues?” Jo and Liv stepped closer, crowding me in. I was starting to feel a little trapped. “What issues?”

“Yes, what issues?” I snapped, forgetting this woman was my current idol.

Joss shrugged. “If it were my guess, I’d say the whole ‘not serious thing’ was your suggestion and it was your suggestion because of a bad breakup.”

Hannah, Jo, and Liv looked from Joss to me, expressions all the same. I was battered by three silent questions, each one the same. Well, is she right?

Yes, I definitely felt trapped.

“Jesus, women.” Cole suddenly appeared, pushing past his sister and Hannah to get to me. “The four of you look like a pack of hyenas crowding baby Simba.”

I wrapped my arm around his waist, thankful for the intrusion despite being likened to a lion cub. As much as I liked Cole’s friends and family, I wasn’t really up for sharing my past with them.

“We’re sorry.” Hannah looked like she really meant it.

Jo, however, wasn’t ready to let it go that easily . . . “What does she mean you’re not serious?”

“Jo.” Cole sighed. “Don—”

“Since when do you do casual?” She crossed her arms over her slim chest, annoyance in her eyes. Eyes that were the exact shape and shade as Cole’s.

I relaxed against her brother, remembering how Rae had told me Jo raised him. She was just being protective.

“Jo—”

“I don’t think—”

“Jo, sheathe the mother-bear claws.”

He said it in such an authoritative tone I wasn’t surprised when she snapped her mouth shut.

Cole’s fingers tightened their hold on my waist. “Shannon is my business, not yours.”

“And you’re my business,” she argued, glowering at me.

“Awkward.”

Everyone stopped talking and looked at me.

I blanched. “Did I say that out loud?”

Cole nodded, shaking with amusement.

Joss, Hannah, and Liv burst into laughter and even Jo’s scowl cleared as her lips twitched. I was embarrassed, but I could take the embarrassment if it meant Jo would stop prying into my situation with Cole.

*   *   *

To my relief, over the next few weeks, Cole never brought up “our situation.” I refused to call it a relationship even though very quickly I got lost in a blissful bubble with him. His attentiveness, his consideration, his cockiness and sweetness . . . it never wavered. It appeared that that was just who he was, and I had to admit it was nice.

Okay, so it was more than nice.

Cole didn’t hide his affection for me, although he still maintained a distant professionalism in front of customers, and he didn’t hide that he thought we were definitely going somewhere serious and that I’d eventually come to trust him. His optimism was kind of charming.

As was his good humor and his patience and . . . and, and, and!

I really wished I could find some kind of fault with him. But as we spent those weeks on dates at the movies, out to dinner, drinks with friends, quiet drinks alone, hanging out at his flat, and having the hottest sex of my life, I couldn’t find anything more annoying about him other than the fact that he constantly flicked the channel on the television. And sure, that was really annoying, but it was just that one thing.

A thing I could deal with because . . .

I was happy.

And with the happiness came the guilt.

Logan was in prison while I shacked up with a gorgeous tattoo artist.

No wonder my family still hadn’t bothered to get in touch with me. I was happily living my life while my brother suffered for having tried to protect me. My sister hadn’t texted me since that last text weeks ago when she asked me to confirm I was alive.

And so for the last few days the worry over what my family would think if they found out about Cole had overtaken my contentment. It didn’t matter if Cole wasn’t really a bad boy at all. He looked like one, and that was all that would matter to my family.

I knew Cole could sense I was in a weird place, but thankfully he put it down to the fact that he was staying at my flat for the first time. I hadn’t invited him to stay with me, because secretly I liked the idea that I could leave Cole’s whenever I wanted. Not that I ever did, but the control was there. If Cole stayed with me . . . well, it was just much harder to kick someone out than it was to leave. But a few days ago Cole had insisted on staying the night. We’d argued. He’d won. Now he thought I was pissed off when in actuality I was neck deep in self-recrimination.

While I cooked dinner in the kitchen, Cole was in the sitting room watching a comedy show. He was perfectly at ease here, whereas I felt like it was our first night together all over again.

“Shortcake, have you seen my phone?” he called out.

“Try the bedroom.”

A few minutes later I caught sight of him out of the corner of my eye. I glanced over my shoulder to find him standing in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a piece of canvas, eyes on me. He looked confused.

My gaze flew back to the canvas.

My . . . art.

The pulse in my neck began to throb. “What are you doing?” I croaked.

Cole held up the cityscape of Edinburgh. “Is this yours? Did you do this?”

I felt sick.

Concern emanated from him as he walked toward me. “Shannon?”

I nodded, my eyes glued to the painting.

“Shannon, this is amazing.” His voice was soft, low, amazed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Amazing? My eyes flew up to his face. “You like it?”

Cole gave a huff of laughter. “Are you kidding me? It’s brilliant.”

He liked it? He liked my painting. “Are you sure?” I squeaked.

“Yes,” he insisted. “As are the three others you have hidden under your bed.” He placed the painting carefully on the kitchen table and then wrapped his arms around my waist, drawing me into him. “Why didn’t you tell me you paint? Why is it a secret?”

I was still in shock that he liked my work.

“Shannon?”

Trembling, I released myself from his hold to return to stirring my sauce. “It’s . . .”

I didn’t even know how to begin to explain to him.

Cole’s chest pressed against my back as he leaned past me to turn the hob off. “Dinner can wait.” He gently took my hand in his and led me to the bedroom. While I stood in the doorway he got down on his knees and pulled out all of my hidden artwork. He put the pile of sketch pads on the bed. “May I?”

Heart racing again, I nodded.

Cole began to flick through my work. After a few minutes he sat back on the bed and stared up at me. I didn’t know what his expression meant. “I feel like I don’t know you,” he said softly, touching a sketch of my brother, Logan. “This is clearly a big part of you . . .”

It was only then I realized how stiff I was holding myself, my muscles coiled tight with tension. I released my hands from the fists I had them clenched in and tentatively made my way over to the bed. I brushed my fingers over the sketch of Logan. “He was the only one that ever encouraged my artwork. After Granddad passed and then Gran . . . I only had Logan.”

“This is your brother?”

I nodded. “I used to love sketching people. I’m more into semiabstract landscapes now.” I looked over at the acrylic paintings Cole had leaned against my wall. “I’d never painted until I moved here.”

I flushed with pleasure at the surprise on his face. “You wouldn’t know it.”

“You really think I’m good?”

“Good?” Cole shook his head, bewildered. “Shannon, you’re a beautiful artist. Why . . . why have you never pursued it?”

With his praise ringing in my ears I had to duck my head to avoid his gaze. I didn’t want him to know how much that meant to me, or how it made me want to dive on him and kiss him all over. “After high school I decided not to go to uni like all my friends. I wanted to have some life experience, work experience. The plan was to defer for two years and then apply for art school.” I sighed, a million regrets weighing on my chest. “Somehow I let it slip away from me. It was easier to have a job and some money and a relationship than it was to think about studying and getting into debt. But then I got a little bit older and I realized I wasn’t happy. Being creative made me happy and I wanted it to be a real part of my life.” I looked up at Cole and he flinched at the anger in my eyes. My words sounded brittle to my own ears. “When I decided I wanted to apply for art school I was with Ollie. He’d find my sketches lying around and he would mock and belittle them. He told me over and over and over again that I wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t talented . . . and I let myself believe the son of a bitch.”

“I hope I never find him, Shannon.” Cole’s voice was rough, his own anger scraping against the words. “Because I’ll fucking finish what Logan started.”

“Don’t say that.” I reached for his hand and he curled his fingers around mine. “He’s not worth it.”

“He’s not worth this either,” Cole snapped. “Hiding your talent under your bed like it’s something to be ashamed of.” His eyes blazed into mine. “He knew you were too good for him and that one day you would wake up and realize it too. So he did his best to make you feel small and worthless—to make you feel lucky to be with him, when the truth was the exact opposite.”

“Cole . . .”

“This.” He grabbed up a sketch pad. “Is out in the open from now on, and if you want to go to art school we’ll find a way for that to happen. I’m still in contact with some of my professors from Edinburgh—I do special workshops every year there about tattoo art. We’ll find a way,” he promised. “If that’s what you want.”

So many feelings filled my chest that I was breathless. I stared at Cole in wonder. “Are you real, Cole Walker?”

He gave me this small half smile. “It’s funny. Every day I look at you and ask myself if you’re real.”

“Don’t.” I squeezed his hand. “You’ll make me cry.”

“I want to know everything.”

“Everything?”

The muscle in his jaw flexed. “About the others. Your exes.”

Alarmed, I pulled out of his grasp. “Why?”

The determination in his eyes only grew more intense at my withdrawal. “Because I need to know what I’m dealing with. I need to know what they’ve done to you.”

“No.” I shook my head, ready for retreat. “You want to know, and I’m not sure I’m up for that discussion.”

Cole removed my sketch pads, laying them gently on the floor like they were precious works of art, and then he moved closer to me on the bed. His fingers wrapped around my wrist and he tugged me toward him until my hip rested against his. “I need to know.” He brushed his knuckles across my cheekbone as he stared deep into my eyes. “I need to know so I can try to reverse all the damage they’ve done.”

My eyes and nose burned as his words prodded too closely at my raw emotions. “If you knew . . .” I shook my head, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let me. “Cole.” I tried to firm up my voice, but he held on tighter. “If you knew you’d know what an idiot I’ve been. You’ll look at me differently.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

“Shannon.” He gripped my chin tightly and I knew he was losing patience with my admittedly low assessment of not only myself but him. “I won’t.”

I tugged my chin from his grasp to look away, but I didn’t retreat. I gave in. At some point he was going to find out. It had always only been a matter of time. “My first boyfriend was Ewan. The guy that picked me up that day on Scotland Street. His was a typical desertion and it didn’t leave much of a scar. But Nick was next and his definitely did.” I drew in a bolstering breath. “He was the first guy I had sex with. I thought I loved him.” I rolled my eyes at my naïveté. “He was in a rock band. He was good-looking and too charming for his own good. He told me he loved me the night before I caught him screwing a blonde in a closet at one of his gigs.”

I felt Cole’s fingers dig into my waist and when I looked at him I saw turmoil in his gaze.

He hurt for me.

Something . . . something big lurched in my chest.

I wanted to wrap my arms around him and never let go, and yet at the same time I wanted to run in the opposite direction from this man who seemed too good to be true.

“I didn’t learn my lesson,” I continued, my voice now hoarse—affected by the events of the past and present. “A year or so later I started dating Bruce. He was a biker—everyone called him Bear because he was huge. He was really taken with me. At first.” I smiled unhappily. “My size made him feel protective and powerful at the same time. He was always telling me how cute and sexy I was, how funny, how smart, how lovable. He was full of compliments. So it didn’t matter to me that he was a fun-loving biker ten years my senior. I fell for him. He got me a job working in his best friend’s tattoo studio and we dated for eighteen months.

“The last four of those he spent screwing a real honest-to-goodness biker babe behind my back. He decided she was more his speed, so he dumped me and he also made his best friend fire me.”

Cole looked ready to kill someone.

“Are you sure you want me to continue?”

He nodded, his mood rapidly growing darker before my eyes.

For me . . . well, I’d thought it would be harder revealing all this to Cole. I’d gotten over my past grievances until Ollie, and these last few months the memories of what I’d allowed to happen to me had burned in my gut like acid. Yet sitting there with Cole, I realized that somehow over the past few weeks that bitterness had begun to fade.

I tensed at the realization.

I was allowing myself to forget because of Cole.

Don’t be stupid again—you need to remember, to keep your guard up. It’s when you feel safe that they hurt you. Every. Time.

Instinctually I attempted to pull away from Cole, but his hold on my waist tightened.

I exhaled, so confused, so unbelievably mixed up by all of the emotions churning through me. I should be terrified of Cole and yet . . .

“Fine,” I continued. “Then there was Rory. We were only together a few months before I started to notice that money kept going missing from my purse. Eventually I discovered Rory was stealing from me even though he had a lucrative side business as a drug dealer. I then found out he was an ex-con. I got the hell out of there and went running right into the arms of dear Ollie. And you know all about him.”

After a few seconds of loaded silence Cole said, “That’s just a series of bad luck, Shannon.”

This time I did pull away, jumping off the bed with an exasperated grunt. “Bad luck? No, Cole, that’s having terrible taste in men.”

“Present company excluded,” he grumbled, getting up off the bed.

“Don’t,” I snapped, turning on my heel and heading back to the kitchen to finish making dinner.

“Don’t what?” He followed.

“Be boyish and charming.”

“That’s kind of hard. I am boyish and charming.”

I huffed and was just about to turn on the hob when his strong arms encircled me and I found myself up in the air. I landed on Cole’s shoulder with a gasp. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed. Dinner can wait.” He patted my bottom and started striding back toward the bedroom.

“Let me down,” I growled.

“Nope. First: Looking at your gorgeous artwork gave me a serious hard-on. I do love a talented woman.” He stroked my bottom before dropping me on the bed. I stared up at him, wondering how we went from heartfelt confessions, messy confusion, and irate irritation to this. My eyes dropped to his hands as he began unzipping his jeans. “Second, I’m going to fuck every bad memory of those unworthy gits out of you, even if it takes me a lifetime. Starting tonight.”

My mouth dropped open at the lifetime comment. “Cole—”

“Be quiet, Shortcake,” he murmured, crawling up the bed until he was straddling me. “Anything you say will only make me more determined.”

*   *   *

I shot awake, my heart pounding so hard it was all I could hear. Sweat slickened my skin and I panted for air.

As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw I was in my bedroom. Cole was sleeping beside me. He was exhausted after spending the entire evening screwing my brains out. I’d been exhausted too. That was why I’d fallen asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

But the nightmare had returned.

I hadn’t had it for weeks. Since I’d started seeing Cole.

I swallowed hard, running a trembling hand through my damp hair. It must have been all that talk about my exes that had spurred its return.

I had no idea what to do.

Things seemed and felt good with Cole, but hadn’t they with all the others before it went bad? I should leave him. I should . . .

Taking my time, breathing in and out, I felt my heart starting to slow, and that was when I heard a familiar grunt followed by a low wheeze. Slowly the grunts got louder and the wheeze grew higher until it was more of a squeal.

Cole shifted beside me and groaned. His eyes opened reluctantly and he squinted up at me. “What the fuck is that?” he said, his voice hoarse from sleep.

I snorted and lay back down. “That’s Rae and Mike.”

The look of horror on his sleepy face was so comical I burst out laughing.

The grunting and squealing immediately stopped. Something pounded against the wall between Rae’s and my room. “Shut the fuck up!” her muffled shout echoed through.

That set us both off. I snuggled into Cole, burying my giggles in his throat as he shook with his own choked laughter.

And just like that, my nightmare and worries were temporarily forgotten.