Cole's Christmas Wish (17 page)

Please, please say yes,
Rachel
thought,
tell me this is about your feelings, about us,
about something real. Please
.

Oh, God. Please.

“I was so sure, you see. So damn sure of my feelings, that I
barged ahead without thinking a damn thing through.” He stood, started pacing
the length of the living room. “And then I saw that ring on your finger, and
everything inside went cold.”

“Just that fast, huh?” Rachel closed her eyes, breathed and
reminded herself of one very fortunate fact: Cole did not know that she knew. If
she kept her voice calm, her behavior as normal as possible, he would never know
that she knew. “You must have had doubts before, or simply seeing a ring on a
woman’s finger wouldn’t have done that to you.”

“What relationship doesn’t include doubts?” He stopped pacing,
placed his palms against the wall and leaned his body forward. “I had doubts,
have for a while,” he admitted. “But I stupidly thought I could overlook all of
them.”

“Does this...um...have to do with the serious concerns you
brought up last week?” The concerns they’d never discussed. “About...Mary?”

His body stilled. “Yup. I...realized today, when you had that
damn ring on your finger, that I’d taken this too far. Everything suddenly
seemed serious and...real, I guess. Too real, with the problems between me and
Mary.”

Dammit! She wanted him to stop speaking in code. Wanted him to
say straight-out what he was thinking, and
who
he
was thinking those things about.

She pulled together every last bit of courage she’d ever had in
her entire life, sat up straight and said, “Why don’t we play a game of pretend,
Cole? Just for a few minutes. It might help clear a few things up. Maybe...I can
still help you with your romantic dilemma.”

He lowered his forehead until it touched the wall. “Go on. What
type of game?”

“You and I have a troubled history. One in which we’ve never
properly discussed.” Oh, dear Lord, was she really doing this? Yes. She was. “So
if we pretend—just for a few minutes, mind you—that
I
am Mary, maybe we can talk through this using our
experiences.”

Pushing himself off of the wall, he faced her. Ran one hand
over his jaw. “Is that a good idea, Rachel? There are a lot of words between us
we’ve never said about that time in our lives.”

She went to take a sip of her coffee, noticed how badly her
hands were shaking and carefully set the cup down. “Maybe it’s time we did,
then. Maybe, in addition to helping you with your concerns regarding Mary, it
will help us, as well. Our friendship.”

“Our friendship has survived in spite of our never getting into
any of this.”

Hurt was there. She saw it, glittering in his dark, dark eyes.
Hurt
she
had put there.

“Maybe so,” she admitted, her heart heavier than ever before.
“But surviving isn’t the same as flourishing.” Afraid she’d back away—
run
away—if she didn’t dive in, she pulled in a breath
and...dived. “I know I hurt us, Cole. I know I hurt
you
. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Anger replaced the hurt, but it glittered just as brightly.
“Four years, Rachel.”

“I know.”

“Four years since you left my hospital room, promising to
return as soon as possible.”

“I know,” she repeated. “Cole—”

“You
never
returned,” he said. “Not
until I invited you.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.” She shoved her hands under her
thighs. “When I left, I was confused and scared. My father called, but you know
that, and with the way things were with you, with us, it seemed—and I’m so
ashamed to admit this—easier to leave.”

He shook his head as if he had water in his ear. “Explain.”

So she did, slowly and calmly, enunciating every word and doing
her utmost best to keep her emotions from leaking through. She told him how she
hadn’t known who to be with him—his friend or his girlfriend—how lost she’d
felt, and how because of that, going to her parents had held an odd sense of
comfort.

All of which had to have sounded incredibly lame and weak
considering the struggles Cole had faced at the time. But her words, every one
of them, were the honest to God truth. Whether he understood them or not,
accepted them or not, hated her forever or...loved her, she wouldn’t embellish
on why she’d done what she’d done.

To do so would be unfair and...as wrong as leaving in the first
place.

One tear, and then another, dripped down Rachel’s cheeks.
Irritated with herself, she wiped them away. She didn’t want Cole to think she
was after his sympathy, or an easy path to forgiveness. Her emotions were just
too raw, too...fragile to hold in.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, still wiping her tears. “I’m so sorry
for abandoning you when you needed me, for not being the friend you deserved. I
really let you down. I’ll...I’ll never forgive myself for that. Never in a
million-and-one years.”

He closed his eyes, let out a long sigh. “You’re being too hard
on yourself.”

“Oh, no. That is one thing I’m not doing.”

A heavy, weighted silence hung between them. Finally, Cole
opened his eyes again, shoved his thumbs in his jean pockets. “Tell me why you
didn’t come back until last year.”

His gaze was steady and sure, waiting.

“You told me not to,” she said simply, even though the memory
hurt. “I didn’t feel as if I would be welcome until I knew you were ready to see
me. That you
wanted
to see me.”

That also was the truth.

Cole’s brow furrowed. “I was hurt, Rachel. In every way a man
can be hurt. I shouldn’t have said that, but
you
should have tried again. The next day. The next week. The next month. You
shouldn’t have given up.
I
wouldn’t have given
up.”

“I know that! God, don’t you think I know that about you? I
know who you are, Cole.”

She went to him then, her tears running faster and harder, her
heart exploding with pain and loss and sorrow, and reached for him...so she
could hug him or kiss him or what, exactly, she didn’t know. All she knew was
that she had to touch him, comfort him. Be there for him.

If he would let her.

Cole took a jerky step backward and looked at her as if she had
lost her mind.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, stunned and hurt and shamed all over
again. “You don’t know how sorry I am, how much I wish I could turn back the
clock and change our past. Change
my
behavior. I
would, Cole. Know that, please, if nothing else.”

He swallowed and nodded. Combed his fingers through his hair.
Looked at her long and hard, all the way to her soul, and deeper yet.

“I do know that,” he said finally. “I know who you are too,
Rachel. I really, really do.”

Relief unfurled inside, swift and all-encompassing. Trusting
her instincts, believing he wouldn’t reject her again, she went to him. He
accepted her, pulled her tight to his chest, stroked her hair and soothed her
tears. A sense of security, of rightness, overcame her.

This was home. It was as simple and complicated as that.

“Do you think we’ll be able to move past this?” she whispered
into his shoulder. For a devastating few minutes there, she’d been sure she was
going to lose him entirely. She never wanted to feel that way again. “Can you
forgive me?”

There wasn’t even a heartbeat of a pause. “I’ve already
forgiven you, sweetheart.”

“Okay, that’s...that’s good. I’m... Thank you.”

“Welcome. Thing is, Rach, this isn’t all on your shoulders.” He
pulled back and tipped her chin up with his fingers, so they were eye to eye. “I
had my own demons to contend with, and I should’ve said something about this
before now. Can you forgive me?”

“Yes,” she said. And it really was that easy. “Of course I
can.”

“Whew,” he said, miming wiping sweat from his forehead. “Glad
our friendship is solid.”

Wait a minute
. He’d just said he’d
forgiven her, had said they’d be able to move past this, had even asked her to
forgive him. Rachel stepped back, needing the space to think.

“Did...um...this help you at all with your Mary dilemma?” She
slid her palms down her jeans, waited and hoped and prayed a little, too. “I
mean, if you can forgive me—”

“Mary and I are over,” Cole said abruptly, with a finality no
one would question. “What I can forgive my friends for is a fair bit different
than what I can forgive my potential wife for. I made a mistake thinking
otherwise. A mistake I’ll correct as soon as I...as soon as I can.”

“Oh,” Rachel whispered, fighting back a new onslaught of tears.
Uh-uh. No more crying. Not here, not when she wouldn’t explain the reason why to
the man who had just broken her heart. And he didn’t have a clue in his thick
skull. Not. A. One. “That’s...too bad.”

“Don’t look so sad, Rach. Mary will be fine. Hell, I doubt
she’ll even miss me.” Cole gave her his wide, charming grin, and came close
enough to chuck her chin. As if she were his sister. “You and I are good,
though. Forever friends, right?”

Well, seeing as that was the best they were ever going to be,
she’d take it. Of course she would. But she would never stop longing for what
they didn’t have, what they couldn’t have.

“Yes,” she said softly, quietly. “Forever friends. Just like
always.”

There was a dim light visible at the end of the dark tunnel.
Cole would never know how close she had come to spilling her heart, to telling
him how much she loved him.

Pride, it seemed, worked fairly well as a silver lining.

Chapter Eleven

A
night of sleepless tossing and turning
had made one point abundantly clear to Rachel. She couldn’t spend this Christmas
in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. After last night’s episode with Cole, she needed
to put some distance between them.

But not forever and most definitely not like before. Never like
before.

However, right now she needed to be somewhere that Cole wasn’t,
just for a little while. Some place where every last thing didn’t remind her of
him. Somewhere she could lick her wounds, find a sense of stability again and
come to terms with all that had occurred. And she needed to do these things in a
place she wouldn’t—couldn’t—accidently bump into Cole.

He knew her too well. Even when they were kids she was never
able to hide her misery from him for very long. He’d poke, prod and badger
relentlessly, asking questions until she broke down and shared every last
detail. It would be no different this time. And how in the world would their
friendship recover from that? She truly didn’t think it would.

Added in to all of those very valid reasons, her parents needed
her. They had called, as she’d known they would. And yes, they’d each asked her
to return to New York, just as she’d also known they would. Each blaming the
other. Each saying that Rachel’s presence was needed for the other. And yes,
she’d agreed. Of course she had.

Because she couldn’t stay here. Because they needed her. Both
valid reasons.

This time, though, she would not become their private tennis
ball. Oh, she would be there for them to offer comfort and her support. Just
being there was important, as well. Especially with a word such as
divorce
being bandied about.

She still didn’t know how she felt about that possibility. Not
really. At the end of it all, whether her parents stayed married or not, she
wanted them to find some peace. Hell. All of them, including Rachel, needed to
find some peace.

So, yes, she’d be there for them. They were her family, after
all. But she wouldn’t fall into the accustomed routine. She might still be their
daughter, but she wasn’t a child any longer, she was an adult. As an adult,
she’d sit down with them individually, explain her limits and go from there. One
day at a time, one issue at a time. Maybe, if she held her ground, they’d
eventually meet her halfway. Well, with any luck at all, she hoped they
would.

If they didn’t, she’d cross that bridge when she came to
it.

Rachel pulled her suitcase from the closet and began the
process of packing for her return trip. She’d been lucky to find a flight the
weekend before Christmas. Luckier yet to find a flight that left this evening.
She’d be home by ten and tucked into her own bed by eleven. Then, tomorrow she’d
wake up in New York and would begin the process of healing.

The second she regained her equilibrium, Rachel would make
plans to return for a normal, non-crazy visit with Cole. And this time, she
wouldn’t wait for an invitation.

When she’d finished with her suitcase, she turned her attention
toward the Christmas tree. It hadn’t even been up a full week, and already it
had to come down. It was sad, but not the saddest element in her life at the
moment, so she went to work removing the ornaments one at a time. She wrapped
and placed each one back in its box, fighting off the memories they held. There
was no time to linger, no time to dwell on what each lovely ball of glass
meant.

Rachel closed the lid on the ornament box and started
untwisting the lights. When the tree was achingly bare, she hauled it to the
curb, where it looked—in her current state of mind—sad and forlorn and...well,
rejected.

She continued on this way, handling each necessary task with a
businesslike attitude, mentally checking off items from her to-do list as she
went. Throughout it all, she stifled her emotions, working to keep them even and
her mind blank, and just kept pushing forward. If it were at all possible, she’d
rather not shed one more tear until she was safely in another state.

Finally, she exhaled a shaky breath and walked around the
house, one room at a time, ascertaining she hadn’t forgotten anything that she
wanted to take back with her to New York. The list was small. A few books she
hadn’t gotten to, her cell-phone charger and—when she returned to her
bedroom—the vase Cole had given her. That stupid vase.

That stupid, beloved, beautiful vase burst her moratorium on
tears into smithereens. Dammit, she didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to sink into
that black hole of misery again. Didn’t want to be reminded of the very many
ways she’d screwed up.

She sucked in a gulping breath, and then another, and tried to
calm down. But the tears kept falling. Her throat closed, her chest balled up so
tight it hurt and her sobs became an unrelenting, powerful explosion that she
couldn’t begin to stop.

“This sucks!” she yelled into the empty room. “Sucks, sucks,
sucks!”

Stomping over to the vase, she picked it up and stared at it,
ran her finger along the row of tiny, hand-painted flowers Cole had said
reminded him of her eyes, and then, because she could conceive of no other
action to take, crawled into her bed.

She curled up beneath the quilt, dragging it over her head,
shutting out the world and embraced the pain. Pressing the vase to her chest,
she gave in to the overwhelming grief assaulting her and allowed herself a good
old-fashioned cry.

When she had no more tears left to shed, she gasped raggedly
one last time before crawling out from beneath her tomb. Dry, hollow and hurting
down to her toes, she gently set the vase on her desk and very purposefully
grabbed her suitcase.

She wouldn’t take the vase home with her, it would be too
painful, would stir up too many emotions, too many memories. Rachel firmly
closed the bedroom door, shutting the pain inside. She wouldn’t come upstairs
again during this visit.

Four hours until she had to leave for the airport. Everything
she’d had to do here was done, the house was prepared to sit empty for...who
knew how long? Rachel closed her eyes and squeezed her hands into tight fists,
counted to ten and straightened her spine.

There was only one item left on her to-do list. An essential
item. One task yet to complete. And one that would very likely have her crying
all the way to the airport.

The only thing she had to do now was say goodbye to Cole.

* * *

For the entire day, Cole had gone over the prior night’s
events with a fine-tooth comb, rehashing every word, every look, every flicker
of Rachel’s eyelashes.

What was it? What had he missed?

He kept thinking there was something there, something that
hadn’t seemed important at the time, some bit of information that he hadn’t
latched on to, but damn if he could locate it. All he had was this...buzzing in
his brain, this incessant push to keep at it, to nail down the mysterious
something, and not to stop until he had identified it and figured out what it
meant.

Problem was, he didn’t know what he was looking for.

Cole finished ringing up his current customer and tried to set
the insistent itching aside. Yesterday, in every way except for one, had been
about as bad as a day could get. Still, having that talk with Rachel had been
cathartic and necessary, for both of them. In the end, forgiving her was as easy
as breathing. In the end, he’d realized he’d already forgiven her. He’d just
needed to hear her explain, in her words, the whats and whys of the
situation.

Forgiving himself, though...well, that was another story
altogether.

If he’d just broached his concerns earlier, they might have had
a chance. If she’d explained her side of things earlier, they still might have
had a chance. Basically, from Cole’s point of view, they’d both behaved
foolishly. They were, from an outside perspective, equally to blame. Why, then,
did he feel as if the burden of guilt rested solely on his shoulders?

The bell on the door rang, announcing a customer’s entrance.
Cole glanced up with a welcoming smile, ready to ask if he could be of any help.
His smile widened. Instead of some random person, his gaze landed on Rachel. As
always, the sight of her warmed him from the inside out, made him feel more
alive. She just had that affect on him. Even now.

Approaching the counter, she whisked her hair over one ear. He
noticed right off that she looked a tad on the pale side, as if she hadn’t slept
well. That bothered him.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, darlin’,” he said with an easy
grin. “I was just thinking I could use a coffee break. Feel like walking over to
the Beanery?”

Haley was supposed to leave in a few, but Cole figured he could
sweet talk his sister into staying for thirty extra minutes. Besides which, the
only surefire way he knew of to realign his focus, to put Rachel solidly in the
friend category, was to spend time with her.

Normal time. Doing stuff friends did. Like grabbing a coffee
together.

“I’m sorry, Cole, I can’t,” she said softly, hesitantly, in the
same odd beat she’d had yesterday. “That’s actually what I stopped by to tell
you.”

“You stopped by to tell me you can’t go to the Beanery?
Impressive, Rach, seeing how I just now asked.” Okay, it was a lame joke, but
Cole had recognized the precursor to bad news.

He was, he found, exhausted to the bone from hearing bad
news.

“No, no. That wasn’t what I meant.” She scraped her teeth over
her bottom lip, darted her gaze downward. “I came to tell you that...well, that
I’m leaving. Tonight.”

“You’re leaving?” he asked, feeling like an imbecile for doing
the statement-to-question thing he teased her for, but he needed clarification.
Urgently. “As in leaving Steamboat Springs, tonight, with Christmas a mere three
days away?”

“Yes,” she said in more of a sigh than anything else. Her eyes,
he noted, had a hollow quality that also bothered him. “I made the arrangements
this morning.”

“This morning?” He set aside his concerns as an old hurt rolled
in. “And you’re just telling me now?” Why did this feel like the other time
she’d left, when the two instances bore little-to-no similarities?

For one thing, he wasn’t lying injured in a hospital bed. And
there weren’t any doctors around, giving him dire warnings that his career was
probably over. Finally, to his chagrin, even though he’d had the opportunity, he
hadn’t kissed Rachel less than twenty-four hours ago.

See? Not alike. In any friggin’ way whatsoever.

“I was going to call, but that felt too impersonal.” Her voice
shook, a little, on that part. “Especially considering our conversation last
night. So...I waited until I could come here, to see you and tell you in person.
That was important to me, Cole.”

Buzz, buzz, buzz went his brain again. What in blazes were his
instincts trying to tell him?

“Why are you leaving?” he asked, hoping her answer would give
him a clue. “Did something happen that has upset you? Or...?”

“I’m fine.” She blinked twice. Paused. Then blinked three
times. “It’s my parents.”

Ah. Well, that required zero explanation. Now, he understood
the shaky voice, the hollow eyes and her tiredness. “Sweetheart, you have to
stop letting them do this to you. Why don’t you stay here, as you originally
planned?”

“I...can’t. This time is different,” she said stubbornly. “I
have to go. They need me and I...well, I need to be there. In New York. With
them. So...please try to understand.”

His heart cracked in two.

“I do understand. You love your parents. Enough said.” True,
that. What he didn’t comprehend was why two people had stayed together for so
long when they continued to make each other, and their daughter, miserable.
Rounding the counter, he opened his arms, needing to hold her one more time
until the next time. Whenever that time was. “Come here, then, darlin’.”

Emotion filled her eyes for a split second, so fast that Cole
almost missed it. She was hurting, probably thinking of her parents and all they
were going through. He had to admit that he wished he’d listened to Haley and
had kidnapped Rachel days ago.

It would have solved everything. She’d be safe with him. He’d
see to that. And his heart wouldn’t feel as if someone had beaten it with a
sledgehammer.

In another second, Rachel filled his arms. She was soft and
warm and smelled like she always did, and Cole never wanted to let her go. So,
he did the next best thing, the only thing he could do in this particular space
of time, minutes before she walked out of his life again. He held her close to
him and cherished the moment, fleeting as it was, with every beat of his
heart.

When they separated, Cole cradled her face with his hands and
looked deep into her eyes, bent forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“Take care of yourself, Rachel. Promise me.”

“I will. You do the same.”

Emotion clogged his throat. Words seemed impossible. He nodded
in reply, then walked her to the door and stood there, watching, until he
couldn’t see her any longer. Hell. Just...hell.

He ached, missing her already. Missed Rachel in the same
desperate way Cole assumed he’d miss one of his limbs, or his hearing, or his
eyesight. It was an intrinsic loss, deep and painful and unrelenting. Swearing
under his breath, he stepped away from the door.

And a bolt of lightning hit him square between the shoulder
blades. Metaphorically speaking, of course. There was something else he’d
missed...not in an emotional sense, but in the physical. Andrew. Where the hell
was Andrew? He hadn’t come inside with Rachel, and he hadn’t been in the car
waiting for her... Cole had seen Rachel drive away, in a car, by herself.

So where was the man she professed to love? Cole couldn’t
believe Andrew would stay at the house here in Steamboat Springs if Rachel was
headed back to New York. No, the man wouldn’t do that. Staying here wouldn’t be
sensible, and from what Cole had seen and heard, Andrew was a very sensible
man.