Fast & Wet (The Fast 2)

I nod my head. But Cole wasn’t a mess, his situation was. Once he wore me down enough to let him in, I saw him the gem hidden inside of him. How strong and decent and protective he was, despite everything he had stacked against him.

No one ever listened to me the way he did, understood me, made me feel so cherished and valued. So safe.

No one ever believed in me the way he did, was so excited for all of my silly ideas or encouraged me to be myself and make all the mistakes I dreamed of being free enough to make. He had no expectations of me to be perfect. His affection was never conditional.

“The moment I met you, I felt this thing in my chest,” he grips his shirt like it’s physically painful for him, like the cotton is on fire. “I had this deep-seated urge, this need, to pull you into my arms, tuck you into my chest, and protect you from every danger in the world. You don’t always see the bad in people. You don’t see it in me.” His face turns to me, and the blue of his eyes has gone glacial, “I had all the bad inside of me, Emily.”

“What are you talking about?” I reach out for him, but he pulls his arm away from me like he’s toxic, like his skin will burn me. His retreat cuts me open, a simple action as sharp as a paper cut that stops you in your tracks and lights your nerves on fire.

“I couldn’t protect my mother, but I could do right by you. Keep you away from me.”

Watching emotions ripple through Cole, every muscle in his body tense and taut, my head is swimming, drowning in emotions. Confusion as to what he really means—this alleged evil inside of him. Hurt for him that he is living with wounds and traumas inflicted on a little boy, and anger.

So much anger.

“You can’t possibly think you are your father,” I rasp between my teeth. The idea is absolutely preposterous. Cole is many things, but stupid is not one of them.

“Aren’t I?” He stands and starts pacing the living room. “My great-grandfather, my grandfather, Stan—they were all the same. We’ve all got the same DNA. Why would I be different?”

Rage courses through my veins over everything that has been lost over the past six years. Not just our relationship but my self esteem, my sense of sanity, my confidence—it all took a hit when Cole ghosted me. It launches me to my feet. Getting right into his face, even Cole draws back when he sees my face shaking. “You tell me right now. You left me because you think you are your father? You were trying to protect me? From yourself?”

“You have to understan…”

“Answer me!” I scream at him, letting it flow through me like floodwaters destroying everything in their wake. “Is that why you left me?”

The dam is open. All those nights spent crying, alone, wondering what was wrong with me that Cole didn’t want me anymore—they are rapids rushing through my veins, and they’re ready to take down everything in their path.

No words are needed. Polar blue orbs stare back at me and give me my answer.

Without forethought, my body harvests all the pain, anger and sadness it’s harbored all these years and it launches it upon Cole. For a split second, I want him to hurt just as much as he hurt me.

“You fucking asshole! You hurt me worse than anything you could have done physically! You did all of this so you wouldn’t be like Stan but what you did was worse! You’re a monster all the same, just a different kind!”

As s

oon as it’s off my lips and I see the light in his eyes dull, the pain I caused, I’m disgusted by my horrible, hateful words. I’ve just realized his deepest fear, poked the hot spear straight through his heart.

“You… you think I’m worse than Stan?” He whispers with a haunting crack in his voice and he steps back from me as if his very presence might infect me.

“No,” I take a step toward him and stretch my hand toward him but he takes another step away. “I didn’t mean that. I’m hurt and angry, but I didn’t mean it.” Despite his retreat I need to be near him, reassure him.

He moves against the kitchen counter and when I try to put my hands on his waist he takes them in his own and slaps my palms again his chest. “Just hit me Em, it would hurt less. At least I’d deserve it, from you.”

“No,” I pull my hands down and wrap them around his hips. “I’m sorry. You are not Stan. I don’t want to hurt you.” I think I’m going to be sick. What is wrong with me?

He turns his back to me and continues pacing around the living room. I can see the muscles rolling under his shirt, tension cascading over him in waves.

I wouldn’t want to touch me if I were him, but I can’t stop the gravitational pull, and I wrap my arms around him from behind. “I’m so sorry. There’s no excuse. I was so angry because all this time… You’re not him, Cole. I’m so sorry. I’ll leave.”

“Goddamn it, I don’t want you to run away again,” he turns with me still attached to him and wraps his arms around me even though I don’t deserve it. “Even if you wanted to leave, I wouldn’t let you. I can’t do it a second time, Emily, even if I should.”

“You’re not him,” I plead. “You’d never hurt me.”

“Haven’t I already, gorgeous girl?” There’s so much pain behind his eyes that it breaks me in two.

I know the answer to this question, I would bet my life on it, but I ask it anyway, so he can hear it aloud, “Have you ever hit a woman?”

“Jesus, no,” his arms drop from me, and I take both his hands in mine. I won’t let him retreat. “I would literally rather end my life than hurt you.”