Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 52663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
“You didn’t need to be.”
He kisses my temple. Then my jaw. Then the corner of my mouth.
“You ruined me,” I whisper.
“You promised not to blame me.”
“I lied.”
He smiles, and I know I’ll never be the same.
20A
EMILY
The days that follow are a blur of heat, skin, and stolen time.
Cole and I can’t seem to stop.
We sneak into rooms like fugitives on borrowed time, like the whole house might catch fire if anyone ever found out.
The laundry room. The art studio. Once, the outdoor shower behind the pool house. We nearly get caught leaving the laundry room when the housekeeper walked in early to sort towels. Another time, we had to freeze behind a wall of hedges while a staffer ate lunch on the far side of the garden, completely oblivious to how breathless we were—how flushed.
It’s dangerous.
And addictive.
At night, we walk down to the beach barefoot, the wind turning everything soft and silver. He lays me in the sand and kisses me like we have forever. I kiss him back like we don’t.
There’s something unspoken in every touch. Like we know it can’t last. Like that knowledge is the exact reason we keep coming back for more.
He’s good for my writing in ways I didn’t expect. My poems are fuller, sharper, soaked in feeling I’d forgotten how to name. He reads my new pages without flinching—asks questions no one else would think to ask. And I can see it in him, too. The way he holds his brush like it matters again. The way his canvases are less restrained, more alive.
I understand why people say this kind of thing drives them crazy.
But I think it only feels this intense because it’s Cole.
I’ve never wanted anyone like this. Not just his body—but his breath, his thoughts, his silences. I want all of it.
And I never, ever want this to end.
21
EMILY
On Sunday night, I’m in Cole’s lap, riding him as he holds my hips.
The windows are cracked just enough for the sound of distant thunder to slip in, mixing with the soft creak of the bed frame. His palms are warm and steady, fingers digging into the curve of my waist like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. Every time I roll my hips, he breathes harder, eyes locked on mine like he’s trying to memorize the way I look coming apart for him.
We collapse naked and sweating, tangled in sheets that smell like laundry detergent and rain. My hair sticks to his chest, damp with effort, and I curl into the solid line of his body, ready to do it all over again.
“I wish I’d met you earlier.” He runs his fingers through my hair.
“How much earlier?”
“Six months or so.”
“I would’ve been living somewhere else then,” I say. “It wouldn’t have been possible.”
“In that case, I wish our parents never met.”
“Me too…” I look at him. “You think it’ll last?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “That’s the scariest part… I can usually read my dad’s every move long before he makes it, but this one feels off.”
“What makes him a fraud, Cole?” I’ve been holding back that question since he uttered that line, and I need to know.
“He’s just not a good person, Emily.” He kisses my forehead. “Trust me.”
“Surely you can elaborate better than that.”
“I will,” he says. “I promise.”
He tightens his grip around me, silently asking me to drop it and go to sleep until sunrise.
I start to drift as he places a few final kisses on my lips, but then the bed begins vibrating.
Confused, my eyes flutter open.
“Did I accidentally hit a remote or something?” I ask.
Cole doesn’t answer, and the bed vibrates faster.
Sitting up, I realize the bed isn’t shaking.
It’s him.
He’s having a seizure.
“Cole?” I turn him on his side. “Cole!”
His arm jerks up and smacks the headboard, a sound that echoes in my skull. His breath comes in shallow gasps, wet and uneven, and the smell of sweat and something metallic floods the room.
Panicking, I dial 9-1-1 and pull on his T-shirt before rushing down the hallway. My hands are shaking so badly I nearly drop the phone, and my lungs can’t seem to fill with air. Everything feels too loud and too far away at once.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the operator asks as I’m knocking on his cousin’s door.
“My boyfriend—I mean, my stepbrother is having a seizure. He’s—”
“Cole is having a seizure?” Matt swings the door open and rushes past me.
He runs to his room and I follow.
I push my crumpled panties under the bed with my foot as he presses Cole’s chest.
“Miss? Are you there?” the operator asks. “Miss?”
“Keep him on his side,” Matt says. “I’m going to get his dad.”
Cole shakes under my hands, and his eyes roll backward. My chest aches seeing him like this.
“No, Dad…” he mutters harshly. “Dad, please…”
“Miss, your location is showing as the Dawson Estate,” the operator says. “Is that correct?”