The Hero's Redemption

He locked his gaze on hers, knowing how much she might see, but that was part of what he had to do. Less for himself than for her. Leaving her hurt wasn’t an option.

“I wanted you the first time I saw you,” he admitted. “I thought you were beautiful. Then, when you chased after me even though you knew what I am—” He cleared his throat. “You blew me away. I’ve…never known anyone like you. You were so determined to save me you’d have given me anything.”

Erin made an inarticulate sound that probably started as denial but failed to take shape.

“I wanted to take everything you’d give.” He had to suck in a deep breath before he let himself say, “I still do. But only a creep would do that.” Cole groaned. “No, I have to say this. I’m not somebody you’d want to keep for good.” His shoulders tried to draw up like a turtle pulling back into its shell. Lay it out, he told himself. “When you lose interest in me, I could be wrecked.”

Something breathtaking lit her face. “What makes you think—”

“I didn’t even go to college. You’re a professor.” When she opened her mouth, presumably to argue, he talked right over her. “We don’t have anything in common. I spent ten years in a prison cell while you had a real life. Friends, lovers. I can hardly remember having either. You had to teach me to drive again. I probably know less than little kids about computers or anything electronic. No matter where I go or what I do, I’ll never catch up.”

“You think knowing how to use apps on a phone is a measure of how worthwhile you are?”

He shook his head. “That’s not the point. The point is that I work with my hands—when I can get someone to believe I won’t murder them the minute they let down their guard. That’s what getting a job will come down to.”

Erin was quiet for a minute, and Cole had a sinking feeling. It told him that, despite his intentions, he’d hoped to fail at getting her to see how unequal they were.

“You’re a reader,” she said, surprising him. “When we talk about books, you understand them as well as I do. Your perspective is different and interesting.”

“That’s not—”

“Now it’s my turn,” she said sharply.

Cole nodded, conceding the point, pretending to be relaxed.

“At the rate you’re reading, you will catch up. I doubt most college grads read as voraciously as you do, or bother to keep educating themselves. And while you work with your hands, you do more than that. I saw you designing the ramp for the Zatlokas.”

“You saw me looking it up. There are formulas—”

She poked a finger at him to shut him up. “I have no doubt you could design something a lot more complex than a wheelchair ramp, especially once you get computer literate enough to use CAD software.”

Apparently, she’d really listened when he talked about computer-aided design and the class he regretted not taking.

“You’re an incredibly hard worker. Generous. You’ve made friends up and down the block, Cole. Helped people without waiting to be asked. They trust you.”

“They don’t know I’m an ex-con.”

“Do you really think they’d change their opinion if I told them now? Mr. Zatloka, whose life you may have saved? Mrs. Z, whose life you’ve made easier?” Erin shook her head. “You’re more than you think you are, Cole.” Her smile was sad. “But I also know I’m talking to a deaf man. You have to learn this for yourself.”

“You mean, even a college professor can’t teach me?”

His rejoinder startled her, and for a fleeting instant awakened complicated emotions she didn’t want him to see.

She only shook her head and said tartly, “And what makes you equate sex with hearts and flowers, anyway? We could have shared something in bed that didn’t mean commitment or hurt feelings later. We’d both have a memory. It’s a lot more likely you’d dump me than the other way around. You’ve made it clear you’re ready to move on. What makes you think I’d try to cling?”

Hadn’t she understood what he was saying? He would be the one who held on with everything in him, even as she slipped away. Cole already knew his feelings would be hurt. He hurt enough, just thinking about moving out of the apartment, about not seeing her every day, if only for a few minutes while they ate lunch.