Make Me Yours (Bellamy Creek #2) - Melanie Harlow Page 0,113

funny, which totally confused him.

Cole reached us, his jaw tight. “Cheyenne.”

“Cole.” My heart was banging hard against my ribs.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“I’m already talking to someone.” I glanced at Zachary, who looked annoyed and baffled in equal measure, not that I blamed him.

“I can see that.”

Zachary held out his hand. “Zachary Simon.”

Cole hesitated before taking it. “We’ve met before. I’m Cole Mitchell. I pitch for the Bulldogs.”

“Ah.” After a very brief handshake, Zachary nodded.

“You two know each other?” I asked.

“He plays for the Mavs,” Cole said, his icy blue eyes trained on Zachary.

Oh, Jesus. Fucking old man baseball.

“Not anymore,” Zachary said with a laugh. “I moved to Bellamy Creek, so I’m hoping there might be a spot on the Bulldog roster next season.”

“We’ll see.” Cole looked at me. “Cheyenne, please. Can we talk?”

“Go ahead,” Zachary said graciously, moving toward the couches. “Nice meeting you both.”

I faced Cole. “What do you want?”

“Lots of things.” His eyes, softer now, traveled over me from head to foot. “But you’re so beautiful, I can’t think straight.”

My walls crumbled a little, but I was determined to stand tall, just like he was. “Thank you.”

He struggled for words. “I miss you. Mariah misses you.”

At the mention of his daughter, I softened further. “I miss her too. How is she? Does she love her new dog?”

“Yes. But she’s been pretty miserable without seeing you. And so have I.”

“Guess that’s the theme this Christmas,” I said, taking a sip of champagne. The glass trembled in my fingers.

“I know, and it’s my fault.” Then he glanced around. “And I have a lot of things I want to say to you, but this doesn’t feel like the right place.”

Hope was rising in my heart, but I refused to let it come to the surface. I’d missed him too, but missing each other wasn’t enough. “What’s the right place?”

“Will you leave with me?”

“Now?”

He nodded, taking my hand. “Please.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve, Cole. I’m at a party,” I said, as if I gave a shit about any of it.

“I know, and I’m sorry. This wasn’t the plan. I just”—he glanced toward Zachary Simon—“saw you talking to that guy and fucking hated it.”

I pulled my hand back. “No. That’s not good enough.”

“Huh?”

“Missing me isn’t enough. Getting jealous isn’t enough.”

His expression turned angry. “What will be enough? I’m fucking trying here, Cheyenne. Why won’t you listen?”

“I am listening, Cole. But what I’m hearing is nothing new, nothing that reassures me you’re ready to deal with your issues.”

“And what will prove that?”

“I don’t know,” I said, the tears finally spilling over. “But not this.”

Without another word, I left him standing there, set my glass on the kitchen counter and went to grab my coat from the bedroom. When I came back out, he was waiting for me in the hallway.

“Please don’t go,” he said, his expression tortured. “Let me try again.”

“Don’t make this difficult, Cole.” I buttoned up my coat, my eyes blurry with tears. “It will embarrass us both.”

“Everything okay?” Blair appeared behind him.

“Everything is fine,” I said. “I’m just getting my coat on. I’m taking off.”

Cole took me by the shoulders and spoke quietly but ferociously. “Listen to me. I love you. I want a life with you, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to have it. Somehow I’ll find a way to prove it to you.”

At that moment, I desperately wanted to melt into his arms and tell him it would be okay, but I knew that wasn’t the answer. If I did, nothing would ever change. “I hope so, Cole.”

He took his arms off me, and I shouldered past him, heading for the door, already digging my keys from my coat pocket. Blair trailed me all the way down the steps to the door.

“Cheyenne, wait!”

I turned to face her. “I’m leaving, Blair, I have to.”

“I know.” She threw her arms around me and held me tight. “It’s going to be okay.”

Crying openly, I hugged her back.

“Blair?” Griffin called from the top of the steps. “The oven timer is going off.”

She released me. “I better go. I’m sorry if any of this is my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t have made you come over.”

“It’s not your fault. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Then I pushed the door open and slipped into the icy night air, the tears freezing on my cheeks.

I hurried down the street, jumped into my car, and drove home. Thankful my mother was out with friends, I went straight upstairs, put my pajamas on,