Текст книги "Echoes of Scotland Street"

Автор книги: Samantha Young

Соавторы: Samantha Young
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CHAPTER 10

B y sheer force of will I got through the rest of the day and the next by pretending that everything was all right and just as it should be. The truth was I wasn’t sure everything was okay.

I didn’t want a relationship with Cole. As much as I’d grown to like him, I still didn’t trust him. Plus, I worried about what my family would think of him if they ever found out. At the same time it was really rubbish to have to go on with him thinking the way he did of me. That wasn’t who I was.

And now . . .

Now he was acting like there was no attraction between us at all.

Exhibit A: He took a sip of my latte without even asking and he did it without batting an eyelash. He walked away like it was no big deal, leaving me to stare at the place where his lips touched my coffee cup. Weeks ago our lips touching the same cup would have caused loads of meaningful staring and flirty eyes!

Exhibit B: I was working innocently at my desk when I felt Cole press in behind me and take the mouse from my hand. Cheek nearly touching mine, he leaned into my space to look through the computerized appointment book. I held my breath the entire time, my whole body zinging with awareness of him.

It didn’t affect him at all!

Thankfully for the first half of Thursday I got a break from Cole. I hoofed it to Old Town in the morning with my sketch pad and set myself up in the back room of the Elephant House Café. With the great view of the castle outside the window, my music playing through my headphones, and my sketch pad and pencil in hand, I drowned out the world for a while.

Until my phone vibrated in my pocket.

Meet me outside the Gallery of Modern Art at 10:30. Cole.

From that point on I was a jittery mess.

And it wasn’t even a date.

*   *   *

Dressing for the nondate with Cole turned out to be a heck of a lot harder than I thought it would be. Over the last few weeks I’d managed to pick up some bargain buys, so my wardrobe wasn’t nearly as pathetic as it used to be, but still . . . how did a girl dress when said girl wanted to look her best without seeming to have tried to look her best?

I finally decided on dark blue skinny jeans tucked into brown suede ankle boots that had a little heel just to give me some height. I wore an oversized yellow sweater because I’d once been told that yellow was one of my best colors. I was hoping that hadn’t been a crock of crap from a well-meaning friend.

The gallery was in Stockbridge, so I jumped on a bus. When I approached the gallery my gaze immediately zeroed in on Cole. He stood near the entrance, laughing into his phone. Watching as he talked with a mystery person, I felt this wild fluttering starting in my chest and a lump forming in the back of my throat. He was wearing a dark blue knit sweater with a shawl collar, faded dark jeans, and worn black engineer boots.

He was seriously tall, which I already knew, but as I looked at him it dawned on me that he was seriously tall and very broad-shouldered. He struck quite an imposing figure.

I was going to look small and silly next to him. I wasn’t going to look like I fit at his side at all.

I stumbled at that thought, feeling my blood heat.

That wasn’t my voice in my head. That was someone else’s and he did not get to win like that.

So, throwing my shoulders back, I strode toward Cole with more confidence than I was feeling, a confidence that grew when his eyes lit up at the sight of me.

He smiled. “I’ve got Hannah on the phone. She wants to know if you fancy coming over for dinner tonight.”

Somewhat stunned at the kind but abrupt offer, I gave a jerky nod. As Cole relayed my “yes” back to his best friend, my mind whirled. Dinner with his best friend and her family? Wasn’t that something you took your girlfriend rather than your friend to?

This whole “thing” was perplexing.

Cole got off the phone. “After you.” He held out an arm, gesturing for me to lead the way inside. Admission was free, so there was none of that awkward nondate fighting over which one of us paid.

Despite my nervousness, I realized as we walked into the exhibit together that there wasn’t an uncomfortable awkwardness. There was awareness (on my part anyway), but that was entirely different.

We stopped in front of the first piece of art.

After a few seconds of looking at it, Cole stared down at me. “Do you like it?”

“No,” I said honestly.

“Why?”

Surprised that he seemed genuinely interested in my opinion, I turned my attention back to the photograph. It was taken from somewhere on Loch Fyne (as detailed in the title) and the artist had used recyclable material to build a cityscape over the loch. “It doesn’t say anything that hasn’t been said before. Many times. And in far more creative and meaningful ways. It’s . . .”

“Amateur,” Cole finished. “Agreed.” He shook his head in consternation. “I’ll grant you the construction of the cityscape is well-done, but art in this landscape”—he gestured around the gallery—“should always say something new or at least say something old in an original way.”

We moved on and I was quickly caught up in our shared passion. A lot of the times we agreed, but even when we didn’t Cole listened to why I thought differently and accepted it as though it was my right. Thoughts of Ollie’s bullying opinions intruded, but I forcefully pushed him out of my head.

An hour later we wandered out into the cool day and Cole smiled thoughtfully at me. “I didn’t realize you were so into art. Do you draw, paint, sculpt?”

Still not ready to share that part of me with anyone just yet, I successfully avoided the question by pointing out a café across the street. “I’ve always wanted to eat there. Fancy brunch?”

Cole apparently didn’t think anything of my change of subject and soon we were seated in the café, having coffee and scones brought to us.

“Have you always been into art?” I said.

Cole chewed and swallowed his bite of scone and brushed off his crumb-covered fingers. “Yeah. It used to be mostly comics and cartoons as a kid, but as I got older I got more and more into my art classes. I was influenced a lot by my brother-in-law, Cameron. He’s a graphic designer and he spent a lot of time encouraging me and my art.”

“What about your sister? Your parents?”

Cole smirked, but there was a sadness in the look. “Jo, definitely. She’s supported me since the moment I came screaming into the world. As for my parents, I don’t remember my dad and he’s been out of my life since I was a baby. I wasn’t close to my mum.” He looked down at his scone. “She passed away when I was nineteen.”

Feeling awful for bringing it up, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Don’t be.”

At the cryptic and quiet, emotion-fueled response, I decided it might be better to change the subject. “Do your tattoos mean anything?”

Cole’s whole body relaxed and when he looked at me it was with a grateful smile. His fingers brushed the tattoo on his neck. “J and C. Jo and me. Jo and Cam. The three of us. Cam has the same tattoo.”

“You guys must be really close.”

“Jo’s the best sister anyone could ever ask for. I’m really proud of her. And Cam . . . I owe him a lot.”

I was pleased for him that he had that in his life. Smiling, I gestured to his wrist. “And the tattoo there? I’ve been trying to read the script for weeks now.”

He laughed and turned his hand over, pulling the sleeve up so I could see the tattoo on the underside of his wrist. He held it up and I leaned across the table to read it, just stopping myself from touching him. As I took in the words, I felt a little dizzy with the rush of familiarity and rightness that rushed over me.

“Arm your fears like soldiers and slay them.”

“TATE lyrics,” I murmured, referring to the band The Airborne Toxic Event. The lyrics were from the song “All I Ever Wanted” off their second album, All at Once. That album was the anthem of my young adulthood, and those were my favorite lyrics of all time.

And Cole Walker had them tattooed on his body.

I didn’t know if I was turned on or in love.

Or both.

“My favorite TATE lyrics,” I added.

Cole gave me a slow, hot grin that edged me more toward the whole turned-on thing. “Mine too.”

For the first time in weeks we shared one of those long, meaningful looks.

I broke it before I could no longer breathe under the intensity of my attraction. “Left arm?”

In answer, Cole took his sweater off and thankfully (or not so thankfully depending on how you looked at it) he was wearing a T-shirt underneath it. He pulled the short sleeve up his shoulder so I could see the woman and the wolf tattoo more clearly on his muscular arm. Her hair billowed against a full moon I hadn’t seen before because it was usually covered by the sleeve of his T-shirts.

“What does it mean?”

That boyish grin of his made another appearance, but this time it was edged with something akin to shyness. “It’s sort of a tribute to the women in my life, and mostly it’s a reminder that there are women like them out there.” He shook his head, the spark in his eyes dimming. “Let’s just say I had a shit mum, Shortcake.” He tapped his fingers against the sleeve tattoo. “I wanted this reminder that not all women are like her. There are women who know the importance of family, and will do anything to protect that. I wanted the symbolism of it on here, but I also like paranormal stuff and thought as art this particular idea worked better with that element involved.” He chuckled now. “Stu did it and he thought the woman howling at the moon would be more sexual, and I quote, ‘Will dilute all the sentimental shit so you don’t look like a fucking pussy.’”

I laughed. “Men and their macho-man bull crap.”

Cole joined in my laughter and nodded. “He meant well.”

“He did a good job. But then again, he’s Stu Motherwell. Did he do the eagle and the pocket watch?” I pointed to his right sleeve tattoo.

“Yeah.” Cole pulled up the fabric of his T-shirt, attempting to show me that the tattoo actually started on his right shoulder before curving around his upper biceps and down.

“And it means?”

He sighed. “This one is a little morbid. Well, it used to be.”

I eyed the pocket watch. “I get what the tattoo’s general meaning is. Time is prey. It’s short-lived, right? Live it while you can.”

He nodded.

“But does the time you’ve got on the pocket watch have meaning?”

“That was the morbid part.” He eyed me, almost challenging me to judge him. “The time is when the paramedics called time of death on my mum.”

Uneasiness moved through me as I began to realize that Cole’s mum had really done a number on him.

“Now, thankfully, it means life as well as death. It’s also the same time my niece, Belle, was born.”

“That’s actually very cool.”

“Yeah.” We smiled into each other’s eyes as we took a sip of our coffees. Cole lowered his cup. “What about you? Any tattoos?”

“Nope.”

“Have you never wanted to get one?”

The question forced me to remember when I did want to get one and I lowered my gaze to the table to avoid Cole’s eyes. “Once. But my ex-boyfriend talked me out of it. He had tattoos, but he didn’t think they were attractive on women.”

He hesitated and I waited, my heart beating fast for him to dig at that. To my everlasting gratefulness he sidestepped my sudden change in demeanor. “What would you get if you decided to go for it?”

I smiled up at him from under my lashes. “A small dragon on my lower back.”

“Why a dragon?”

“I’ve always had a fascination for them.” I used to draw them all the time and collect all things dragons when I was a preteen. “They were the epitome of cool to me.” I didn’t even realize my tone had grown flat, hard. “I was so fascinated I forgot the pertinent fact that they would fry my arse without even blinking if they got the opportunity.”

Cole was quiet. He studied me and I knew he understood so much more about my dragon than I’d let on. Instead of commenting he said, “Let me do it. Your tattoo.”

“Seriously?” The thought of Cole putting ink on me, touching me . . .

“I’ll draw it up, and if you like it we’ll get you into the studio next Thursday when we’re both off.”

I bit my lip, unsure I could handle it.

“You get the employee discount,” he urged. “One hundred percent off.”

Seeing as it would be incredibly silly to turn down a free tattoo from one of the best tattooists in Scotland, I found myself agreeing to it.

The tattoo wasn’t a bad idea.

The tattooist on the other hand?

He just might have been a very bad idea.

*   *   *

Upon discovering that I hadn’t visited the National Gallery on Princes Street in years, Cole ushered me onto a bus and we returned to New Town, where we wandered around the gallery, discussing our thoughts on fine art. I discovered that Cole’s knowledge of art history was tremendous.

I had no idea knowledge could be so sexy.

From there we walked around the city center—through the gardens, along Princes Street, onto North Bridge, along the Royal Mile, into Old Town, around the university, and back. I barely even felt the walk we were so lost in conversation. Art, music, film, books—we talked about it all.

It was one of the best days I’d ever experienced. Cole had a way of making me feel special, like I was the only person in the world he wanted to be around. He made me feel smart and interesting and important, and I’d never had that before except from the one person I couldn’t bear to think about.

By the time we arrived at Hannah and Marco’s house in Morningside, I was pretty sure I was harboring a beyond-serious crush on my boss.

Soon I wavered from crushing on Cole to insta-crushing on Marco when I got to know him better. Hannah introduced him as she closed the door to their gorgeous Victorian terrace, and as I shook his hand, staring up at this mammoth man who somehow managed to tower over Cole, I found myself a little dazzled by his good looks. “Nice to meet you,” he said in this rumbling voice, surprising me with an American accent.

“You too.” I found myself staring (hopefully not openmouthed) into his stunning green-blue eyes, astonished to find someone with eyes as gorgeous as Cole’s.

Okay, maybe not as gorgeous, but they were close.

I was quickly distracted from Hannah’s husband when Dylan walked into the hall, carrying his little sister, Sophia. Adorable didn’t even cover it.

Things just got worse from there.

Cole strode to Dylan and took Sophia into his arms, saying hello to her before bestowing his attention on Dylan, who clearly idolized his uncle Cole.

The evidence that Cole was freaking awesome with kids just kept mounting. My crush deepened.

As we sat down to dinner, Hannah began to ask me about my family, and my awkward attempts to avoid the conversation caused some tension. Finally I smiled through the discomfort. “You know, I spent a lot of time in Edinburgh growing up. My grandparents lived in a beautiful Georgian house on Scotland Street.”

“Next to Ellie and Adam’s house,” Cole added.

Of course. “It’s where I first met Cole.”

“So you do remember?” He grinned, and it was a cocky look.

I gave him an apologetic smile. “I said you had a hero’s name.”

Taking in Cole’s absurdly pleased expression, I found myself turning to mush on the inside, only just managing to keep the longing out of my eyes when I caught Hannah watching me.

It occurred to me that to be a friend to Cole I was going to have to pass the best friend test. Enigmatic answers and puppy-love eyes probably weren’t going to work in my favor.

The rest of dinner was easier because I just asked Hannah and Marco a lot of questions, discovering they’d known each other since they were kids and that they lost touch for a few years only to almost immediately become an item when they finally found each other. They didn’t go into a whole lot of details, but it sounded romantic, and seeing the hot, adoring look in Marco’s eyes whenever he turned them on his wife made me think I was probably right.

Once we finished eating, Cole offered to help Hannah with the dishes and they left the living room. I’d been busy listening to Dylan tell me about his swimming certificate, so I’d missed the chance to offer to help. Despite Marco’s protestations, I thought it would be unforgivably rude not to help Hannah out, and I didn’t want to lose best friend points by not doing so.

I gathered the rest of the plates and wandered out of the room, turning in what I assumed was the direction of the kitchen.

As I neared it, however, I stilled at the sound of Hannah saying, “I don’t know what the problem is. It’s obvious you’re into each other.”

Heart pounding, I waited in tense expectation for Cole’s reply.

“Hannah, drop it. Shannon is just a friend.”

I sagged against the wall, feeling an unexpected rush of disappointment. I thought we’d had a wonderful day together, and although I wasn’t sure I could trust him, I couldn’t deny the way Cole made me feel.

Apparently it really was all one-sided.

“She’s . . .” Cole hesitated. “It’s a shame but she’s just not the girl I’m looking for.”

Crushed.

Absolutely crushed.

“What she presumed to know about me when she first started working at the studio—”

“Cole, she apologized for that.”

“Look, it’s not what she thought. It was what she said and what she’s capable of saying when the mood strikes her. I grew up with that shit, Hannah. I’m never going back there.”

“Cole,” Hannah whispered sympathetically.

“It’s fine.” His voice was gruff.

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t believe for a second that that girl out there is anything like your mother.”

I tiptoed back up the hall, coming to a rest against the staircase. I was reeling.

“There’s nothing behind that charming smile but empty promises. You have nothing real to offer me or anyone that finds herself a victim of your flirtation. The difference between them and me, however, is that I’m smart enough to see you for what you really are . . . Nothing.”

Nothing, nothing, nothing!

I felt tears prick my eyes as I wondered how many times his mother had called him that.

Ashamed, I sucked in a huge breath, blinked back the tears, and drew up the strength to approach the kitchen, this time noisily. Acting like everything was fine, I handed off the dirty dishes and returned to the sitting room to engage in small talk with Marco about his job as a construction site manager.

I didn’t care if Cole ever saw me in a romantic light again. That ship had clearly sailed for him, and I couldn’t see how we’d have a future anyway given my track record with failed romances. But I was coming to care for this man and I couldn’t bear the thought that I had genuinely hurt him.

I had to make him see that all the crap I’d dealt to him that awful day came from a place that had absolutely nothing to do with him. I knew I needed to fix any damage I’d caused him, even if it meant revealing all the damage someone else had caused me.

CHAPTER 11

N ot long after overhearing Cole and Hannah in the kitchen, Cole made our excuses and we bade the couple and their young family good night. I walked in silence beside Cole in the darkening night toward the main Morningside Road.

“Is something wrong?” he said, bringing me out of my musings.

Looking up at him, I was confused to find concern in his eyes. It amazed me that he could spend this whole day with me when he thought so little of me.

I stopped on the quiet street and Cole halted too. “Why did you spend today with me?”

Now it was his turn to appear bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

“If I’ve discovered anything real about you, it’s that you’re pretty straightforward, so why do this today? Why spend time with me . . . ?”

After a moment’s contemplation he said, “Because you’re friends with my friends. We work in a close-knit environment. I thought we should try to put our differences behind us.”

“Does that mean that this whole day has been torture for you?”

“What?” He grimaced. “No. Today has been . . .” He looked almost frustrated. “You’re like two different people. It confuses the fuck out of me.”

“I’m not two different people, Cole. If you can stand to spend a little more time with me tonight, I’d like to talk to you about something.”

He studied me carefully, and I could see lots going on in those gorgeous eyes of his. “Okay,” he eventually said. “My place is five minutes away. We can talk there.”

I was so nervous on the walk to Cole’s I couldn’t speak at all. Thankfully he seemed to understand. He led us to a Victorian apartment building just off Bruntsfield Road. Once inside his flat on the second floor, I was distracted by its beautiful high ceilings and polished hardwood floors. Cole had furnished the flat in masculine dark woods, strong textures, and artwork that had obviously been carefully chosen. The living room had a gorgeous bay window dressed in heavy chocolate brown suede drapes to match the suede L-shaped sofa. There was an old Victorian fireplace in the center of the room. It was minimal and there were splashes of color in the cushions and rug, but none of it was deliberately coordinated. Everything had been chosen for comfort and function and yet somehow still worked stylishly in its period setting.

The place also smelled like Cole.

“Coffee?” he offered as I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Please. Milk, two sugars.”

He left to make it and I lowered myself to the edge of the sofa, my knee bouncing up and down with my jitters. I was about to lay myself bare to him.

I felt sick.

When Cole returned, the concern was back on his face as he took me in, shivering. He handed me a mug of hot coffee. “If you like I can start the fire.”

“Not if you’re warm.”

His answer was to start the fire for me.

I smiled gratefully at him as he took a seat in the armchair under the bay window.

“So, what do you need to talk about?”

Attempting to control my nerves, I took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. “That day I told you you were nothing . . .”

Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Look, Shannon, we’ve been over that. It’s done. Let’s move on.”

“It’s not done,” I insisted. I was so scared at the thought of telling him about what I’d fled from in Glasgow, but at the same time I needed to open myself up to him if we were going to have any chance at real friendship. “For once I’m not going to be selfish with you. You deserve the truth even if I don’t want to tell it.”

Cole scooted forward on his seat, eyebrows drawn together. “Shannon, what’s this all about?”

“I’m not here to dump my problems on you. But I need to explain something about why I came to Edinburgh so you can understand why I said what I said to you and why, in the end, it really had nothing to do with you.”

When he waited patiently, I continued. “I’m not a judgmental person, Cole. Not really. In fact, I’ve been known to forgive people even when their actions are beyond the point of forgiveness. I’ve always accepted people for who they are, always believing there was something special in everyone, something that others couldn’t see. And every time I’ve done that with the men in my life I’ve been proven wrong and everyone else right.”

“Shortcake, I’m not following.”

“I’m a bad-boy magnet,” I said with no humor, because as silly as it sounded out loud it was true. “A player magnet. To start there was a lead singer in a rock band who cheated on me, the biker who cheated on me, the secret drug dealer who stole from me, and my last boyfriend—the pièce de résistance. We were together for two years and his name was Ollie. He worked in a restaurant by day and was a drummer in a band at night. Tattooed, good-looking, cocky, charming, confident . . .”

An understanding was beginning to dawn in Cole’s eyes.

“Before Ollie, I’d already pissed off most of my family with the choices I’d made when it came to men. I’d been hurt so many times they believed it was my own fault, and I don’t think they’re necessarily wrong. They predicted Ollie would be a disaster, but I was so sure he was different from all the rest. He was romantic and into me, and to begin with he made me feel really special. Until slowly that started to change.

“It was so subtle it took me a really long time to even realize what he was doing to me. How he had started to chip away at pieces of me. He belittled me, made me feel talentless and stupid. He made me feel like it was a miracle I’d managed to land him.”

“He was a dick,” Cole snapped.

“Like I said, I didn’t even know it was happening or how much he emotionally manipulated me into constantly choosing him over my friends and family. Almost two years—that’s how long it took me to wake the heck up.

“It was so stupid,” I whispered, feeling the pain in my gut and in my chest. In fact, I ached all over with the memories. “It was a stupid thing that made me wake up. I was supposed to be going out that night with the girls. I hadn’t seen them in a while and I was always blowing them off for Ollie. So I was excited and all dressed up.

“Ollie came into the bedroom. He told me I looked like a whore, which was his favorite word weapon. It hurt, like always.”

Lifting my gaze to Cole, I sucked in my breath at the blaze of anger in his eyes. He gave me a taut nod of his head in a gesture to carry on.

“I changed my clothes and gave him the silent treatment. He tried to placate me. And then somehow like always he manipulated me, attempting to make it out as though I was choosing my friends over him when he needed me. He’d had a bad day at work or something and he just wanted a quiet night in with me. So I blew the girls off. They were beyond annoyed. Like, no-longer-speaking-to-me annoyed. And then a while later he said he was going out with the band.

“I was so angry. I never argued with him, but I was so, so mad at him that night that I let him have it.” My eyes held Cole’s as I silently tried to prepare him. “Ollie didn’t say anything. He just swung his arm out and backhanded me across the face. He’s six foot and a drummer. I went flying across the room and caught my hip on the coffee table as I went down.”

“Shannon . . .” Cole’s teeth were gritted and he was rising from his chair, but I halted him with tears in my eyes.

“He was so apologetic. He cried. He promised it wouldn’t happen again. I believed him.” The tears fell. “I’m so stupid.”

“I don’t know if I can hear much more without breaking something,” Cole said, his voice shaking.

“I need you to. I need you to try to understand.”

Muscle flexing in his jaw, he nodded.

“I didn’t tell anyone. And although I stayed with him, what he’d done to me festered inside me. I couldn’t bear his touch, in bed or out, and he grew frustrated.” I exhaled heavily, my fingers trembling. Sometimes it felt just like yesterday. “He punched me one night when I shoved him off me.

“The next morning he went to work and I called in sick. I packed all my clothes, only taking what I’d need—the rest could burn in hell along with Ollie for all I cared. However, it was like he had a sixth sense or something, because I was just about to leave when he walked through the door. He’d cut out of work early. I should have called Logan before it even got to that point.”

“Logan?” Cole frowned.

“My big brother.” The ache inside me intensified. “It’s just me, Logan, and my sister, Amanda, and our parents. But I’ve never been close to any of them, just Logan. My mum and Amanda had always resented how close Logan and me were. He was one of my best friends.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what happened next.”

“Ollie took one look at my suitcase and he flipped out. He started yelling that I wasn’t going anywhere, that I was his, only his.” The stinging in my nose began again, the tears welling up fast as I heard his voice replaying in my head. “And then he was shouting . . . just nonsense and he . . . he started beating the living daylights out of me. I tried to fight.” I wanted Cole to know that. “I tried, but he was so much bigger than me—”

“Shannon—”

“He stopped hitting me.” I sucked in a shuddering breath. “And he started touching me, tearing at my clothes, repeating over and over that I was his. And I—I knew. I knew he was going to rape me.”

Cole stood up suddenly, fists clenched at his side.

I shook my head at his pleading eyes. “No. It was the last straw for me. He’d taken so much. I couldn’t let him take that. The adrenaline kicked in, numbing the pain, and I was clawing and scratching and biting at him. Eventually I kneed him between the legs and he lost his grip on me. I got out from under him, the adrenaline kept me going, and I got away.” That was when I started to cry in earnest and apparently Cole couldn’t deal with being across the room anymore.

Suddenly he was on the sofa beside me, his arm around me, holding me close.

“I should have gone to the hospital,” I sobbed. “Or the police. I didn’t think. I didn’t realize what a mess I was in. I went to Logan.” I stared up into Cole’s soulful gaze, brushing angrily at my tears as I pleaded silently with him to understand. “I didn’t think. I didn’t mean to be so selfish.”

“Shh.” His grip on me tightened. “You went to the one person who made you feel safe. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

“You’re wrong. There’s everything. I made the choice to be with a bastard like Ollie. And when things went horribly wrong I turned up at my overprotective big brother’s work covered in my own blood.” My shoulder hanging out of its socket, my right eye swollen shut, my clothes torn . . . “How did I think he would react?”

Cole brushed his thumb over my cheek to catch a tear. “The way any man would react when someone he loves has been violated. He went to teach that fucker a lesson.”

“Logan put Ollie in a three-day coma.”

“Shit.”

I nodded, lips trembling. “My brother got two years in prison.” And there it was. The worst thing I’d ever done.

“Shannon,” Cole murmured in sympathy, tucking my head under his chin and tightening his arms around me.

Rae knew about the attack, but she didn’t know about my brother. It was the first I’d spoken of it since leaving Glasgow.

“I had to leave. My parents, my sister . . . they hate me for ruining Logan’s life.”

“Your brother’s actions are his own,” Cole said, and I heard the tremor of anger in his words. “Don’t take that on. Your family is wrong.”