“I’ll...I’ll speak with them.” The words were out before I could even process what that would entail. My mother’s eyes shone with what looked like gratitude, and Marcus nodded and squeezed my hand. “I’ve always wanted a daughter like you.”
His words rang in my ears even as I shut my eyes as I lay in bed and willed my brain to stop going through the day’s events, like a horrible instrument of torture. No matter what I did, Cole’s troubled eyes haunted my mind, being front and center in my thoughts. My heart went out to the boy I thought I saw in him today. The one who hurt, who wanted me and my mother to go away. Why did he despise the idea of his father remarrying so much? I realized I had no idea where the twins’ mom was. It had never come up in my mother’s stories, and I had assumed Marcus was widowed. That information would likely shed light on a lot of things. My hand reached for the tender spot where he had touched my throat. Despite the anger, and the opportunity he had had, he hadn’t actually hurt me.
A coarse laugh escaped me. Melissa was right – Gray Lake had changed my perceptions of guys here. Why else would I sympathize with a guy much bigger than me who cornered me in a deserted washroom and acted to strangle me? Why was I sympathizing with him, anyway? I should be telling Marcus and my mom about what he did, just to make sure he wouldn’t do it again. That won’t stop him, my mind said. It probably wouldn’t, but they both needed to know how seriously insane Cole was, how serious he was about us leaving their family alone.
Their family. It was laughable. I hadn’t seen the twins have a proper conversation with Marcus since they arrived from their holiday. Had it always been this way? Strained, with no semblance of a relationship? Marcus to me seemed like a pretty likable guy, but was it because he was trying with me?
My mind wouldn’t quit, so in the end, I reached for my phone and on a whim, opened Instagram and searched for Cole, unsuccessfully. I gave up and searched for the Gray Lake Tigers instead, and found him tagged in one of the pictures. It was a picture from several months ago. His smile was bright, a real, happy one, as he was carried on his teammates’ shoulders after a game. He looked relaxed, victorious, like he belonged. I quickly went to his account and saw his profile picture, a black-and-white photo of a tiger as it ran, muscles bunching. Football appeared to be his life. There were only a few photos of him, and most of them were of him on the field or with the team. I clicked on his most recent post, one from a few days ago.
This was a monochrome shot of a coffee mug with a hand holding it, presumably his, a muscular thigh in shorts in the background. I couldn’t tell if it was taken in the kitchen downstairs on not. Breathe, the caption said simply. I wondered if anything had happened that day. Another post, this time from a few weeks ago, was of him and Hans, both in sweatshirts, making silly faces, his arms slung over Hans’ shoulder. There was no caption, but there were well over a thousand likes. And no wonder – the twins were gorgeous. I hadn’t ever seen Cole looking happy before, but in this picture, he was stunningly so. His dark hair was tousled, his smile white and huge as he stuck his tongue out, and a dimple peeked out from his left cheek. Somehow he managed to look flawless even whilst goofing around.
That feeling of sympathy threatened to surface again. I shook my head. I needed to feel for him less and focus on decoding him and his hatred for me instead. He throttled you, remember?
I quickly scrolled down further. My eyes caught a picture of a bouquet of white flowers on a table, from nine months ago. Gone, said the caption. What did he mean? I clicked on the comments but saw no one had a clue either, nor did he reply to any of them. Suddenly hit by a wave of exhaustion, I put down my phone and snuggled deep into my plush covers. Being in Gray Lake wasn’t the easy ride I had initially thought it would be. Instead, my life was now intricately entwined in some other person’s life, and I had to watch my back both at home and at school, too. Yet, my stupid brain had decided to let this guy get off easy and worry about him at the same time. Sigh. Tomorrow was another day. I felt drained already.
Chapter 8
Cole
I watched as Brea sidled up to Jeremy, only for him to stand up and move to the other end of the table. What was up with everyone hitting on him these past few weeks, anyway? It was as if something had happened and I didn’t get the memo. Eyeing him, I wondered if he tended the other way. Not that I had ever seen him express interest in a guy, but because he never really appeared interested in girls, either. Not since we got to know him freshman year.
“Babe.”
I gritted my teeth. I hated it when Monica called me that. Her voice was dripping with a fake sultriness that made my skin crawl in a way it never did before.
“Babe,” she repeated, trying to slide into my lap.
I shoved her aside. “Stop it,” I hissed, moving so that she had space to sit on the bench. I thought I had made it clear countless times that I was not her babe.
She feigned a wounded look, batting her eyelashes, but slid into the spot next to me, regardless. “What’s up with
