Up In Flames (11 page)

“Anymore?” Dani said. “
Anymore?
Oh my God. Liam was right about you two.”

I flinched at her words. I wanted to flog myself for mine. Who would have known the word “anymore” could give so much away?

I now had a keen understanding of the power of “anymore.”

“No, rookie screw-buddy Liam is not right.” I paused before heading into the dining room. “There never was, is, or will be anything between me and Cole. There’s nothing.” My voice was a whisper by the end.

Dani took a few steps towards me. “Then why does it look like you’re about to cry?”

I couldn’t answer her because if I did, I actually would. “Just leave it alone for now. Please, Dani?”

I didn’t wait for her answer. Dani wasn’t exactly one for sweeping things under the rug, but we were best friends. While I hadn’t openly admitted what happened between Cole and me, I hadn’t eased her suspicions either. I knew I’d have to talk with her soon, like I’d have to talk with so many others, but right now, the promise of the mundane chores of running a diner were ten times more appealing.

By the time I’d refilled the fifth cup of coffee, I’d calmed down and found my waitressing groove. Keeping my mind from drifting onto certain things or people that weren’t of a diner nature took some discipline, but I sucked it up and did my best.

The remainder of the night, Dani delivered food and I poured drinks. We didn’t need to make any more crepe offerings to the tile floor gods. Four was plenty.

A few minutes to closing, I finally got a chance to catch my breath and make my ritual end-of-shift cup of coffee.

“You want a refill, Grandma M?” I held up the coffee pot as I snagged another mug from below the counter.

“I’ll be up all night if I do, but why not?” She smiled and slid the cup across the counter at me. “Life is short and who knows what kinds of adventures could await me tonight.” She winked as her eyes filled with the gleam of possibilities.

“I’m kind of jealous my life is ten times more boring than an eighty year old widow,” I said, filling her cup. I waved at the last table as they headed out the door and Dani flipped the closed sign.

“I’m kind of jealous for you,” Grandma M said, taking a sip of her coffee. “I was really hoping one descendant of mine would be as free-spirited as me, but you were my last hope, Elle Belle.”

I poured my coffee, added a splash of milk and packet of raw sugar, and leaned into the counter across from Grandma M. She came in every Saturday night and sat in the very middle barstool. She always came alone, but she never stayed that way. By the end of the night, she’d made new friends, or caught up with old friends, or made amends with past friends. She was the social butterfly to my social cocoon.

“You had two sons. Two very serious sons who thought free-spirited was a dirty word, Grandma M. One had no children and the other had me.” I arched a brow. “I’d say I was your
only
hope.”

Grandma M chuckled that full-bodied one of hers. “Good point.”

We sipped our coffee in a rare silence for a minute, nothing but the sound of Paul banging around back in the kitchen, occasionally yelling warnings at Dani to turn the radio down or else he was pitching it out the window. I was just about to get back to work when Grandma M reached across the counter and grabbed my hand.

“Honey, what’s the matter?”

Talk about a loaded question. Pretty much every facet of my life was what was the matter right now.

However, when in doubt, claim ignorance.

“What do you mean?” I grabbed a handful of napkins and focused on fanning them.

“You’re not playing the denial card with me, are you, Elle Belle? Because I might be old as dirt, but my mind’s still sharp.” Grandma M had this knack for being blunt in the nicest possible way.

I sighed. I needed to talk to someone, but how could I tell Grandma M what I’d done and ever look her in the eye again? She might be open-minded, but what I’d done was on a whole different level.

“I made a mistake,” I admitted, setting the fanned stack of napkins aside.

“Good,” Grandma M said firmly. “It’s about darn time.”

My mouth dropped a little. Maybe she hadn’t heard me.

“It was a big one. A really big mistake.”

“Good,” she said again. “Those are the best kind to make.”

My mouth fell open a bit farther. Something wasn’t computing.

“Okay, Grandma M. Enough caffeine for you,” I said, reaching for her cup.

She scooted her cup out of arm’s reach. “Don’t be scared of making mistakes,” she said, waiting for me to look at her before continuing. “Be scared of making none. Because if you’re not making a healthy number of mistakes along the way, you’re not really living life to its fullest.”

Whoa. Okay, Grandma M was on something stronger than caffeine.

“We live our lives afraid of change and if we were to just embrace it instead, it wouldn’t seem like such a big deal when it hits us.”

I had no response. On one hand, it made a whole heck of a lot of sense. On the other hand, I’d never once had an adult tell me to live it up by making as many big mistakes as I could. It sounded like a recipe for disaster.

It also sounded like a recipe for genius.

“I can see you need a little time to work all that out.” Grandma M took one long drink of her coffee before rising out of her barstool. “When you’re ready to talk, you know where to find me, Elle Belle.”

I was so busy working all this new information out I couldn’t seem to work up a response.

“Your father may only see black and white, but seeing a thousand shades of gray in between must skip a generation,” Grandma M added as she headed towards the door. “Just look at me. Every morning I wake up and look in the mirror, I see at least ten different shades in my hair alone. I don’t have any problem seeing any shade of gray you have for me, sweetie.”

She was almost out the door when I spoke up. “Grandma M?” I waited for her warm eyes to meet mine. “Thank you,” I said, smiling. Without admitting any of the details to her, I felt better. A lot better. “Hope your night’s full of wild adventures.” I glanced at her empty coffee cup.

When I looked back at her, she winked. “Yours, too.”

THANKS TO DANI helping me close up again, I locked the diner a half hour earlier than normal. I don’t know if some generous streak had hit her or if it was her way of apologizing for pushing me on the Cole issue, but I appreciated it nonetheless.

When I got in the Jeep and headed down Main Street, I hadn’t intended to take a left instead of a right. Or at least I hadn’t planned on it.

I also didn’t plan on veering off on that bumpy dirt road I’d been down so many times I could have driven it blindfolded. After I shut off the engine, I checked my phone. No missed calls. No new texts.

I should call my dad and let him know I would be home late. I should call someone to tell them where I was. I should call Logan and tell him what had happened. I should call Cole and apologize for deceiving him, too.

I should, I should, I
should
.

I was so sick of what I should do I never wanted to do what was expected of me again. I was in a mood tonight—that repressed inner wild child had busted lose. All the way. Combined with the full moon and the warm, sticky night, I knew I should get back in the Jeep and go home. Call it quits on this epically awful day.

Too bad I kissed
should
goodbye.

The summer grass was getting long and it kissed my bare legs as I headed for the swimming hole. Sounds all around me told me even the animals felt the electricity in the air tonight. The light breeze was especially strong with the scent of the wild roses that grew on the outskirts of the water.

This is what I lost myself in when I felt responsibility and guilt knocking on my door. I turned off my brain and became all instinct, and when I did, the grass sliding over my skin became more stimulating. The howls, cries, and hoots became a crystal clear symphony around me. The smells became an aphrodisiac.

Shutting everything out was easier than I thought. The pain, guilt, and remorse were gone. I felt free again.

Even in a full moon, the swimming hole was dark. Not quite pitch, but I couldn’t make out anything on the opposite side. This wasn’t the first time I’d visited the swimming hole at night, but I’d never come alone. Contrary to how some people might think it would feel, it wasn’t scary at all.

It was peaceful. Serene.

Slipping out of my sandals, I dipped my toes into the water. The chill from the water shot up my spine. I was contemplating if tonight’s swim would be done fully clothed or not when the charge in the air skyrocketed.

“I was wondering how long it would be before you showed up here.”

I spun around, feeling goose bumps creep up my body. Was it from the water or from him?

“Cole,” I breathed. “What are you doing here?” He was only a few yards in front of me, but with his dark shirt and shorts, along with his tanned skin, he blended into the darkness well. The only thing that really stuck out was his eyes.

He smiled sheepishly. That stuck out in the dark, too.

“Waiting for you.”

“How did you know I’d show up?” I hadn’t even known I was going to.

“It was a lucky guess,” he said with a gleam in his eyes that suggested guessing had very little to do with it. He knew I’d show up sometime tonight. I was starting to believe Cole Carson really did know me better than I knew myself.

“How long have you been here?” I wanted to approach him; I wanted to wrap my arms around him and feel his around me. My body ached when I wouldn’t let it.

Cole’s gaze dropped. Kicking something on the ground, he sighed. “Long enough to realize I owe you an apology.”

I might have just experienced whiplash standing motionless. “You owe me an apology?” I said, wondering if I’d heard him wrong.

He nodded once.

“Cole,” I said, “you don’t have anything to apologize for. I was the one who lied to you about Logan. I was the one who let us get carried away with whatever this . . .
thing
is between us.”

One side of Cole’s mouth pulled tight at my very specific term for our relationship.

“I’m the one who owes you an apology. A huge, heartfelt one at that.”

Cole’s eyes met mine. “You might owe me an explanation, but not an apology. You didn’t lie to me, Elle. You omitted the truth, but you didn’t bold faced lie to me.”

Okay, the way Cole was underemphasizing how wrong my keeping Logan from him was making me feel even guiltier.

“But what I said to you in the parking lot this afternoon . . .” He paused, his face grimacing. “That was cruel. And I’m sorry I said those things.”

I was speechless. Was Cole apologizing to me for being upset when he found out I’d hidden a boyfriend from him?

“I deserved everything you said to me today,” I said. “I’m sorry I lied to you.” I swallowed because I felt tears wanting to work their way into position. “I’m sorry I lied about Logan.”

Cole flinched at Logan’s name, like I’d just slapped him across the face. “You didn’t lie, Elle. I never asked if you had a boyfriend and you never told me you did. You omitted the truth,” he repeated.

 “Around here, omitting a truth is the same as telling a lie,” I said, crossing my arms. I didn’t want to be let off the hook on a technicality. I wanted Cole to be mad at me. I wanted him to yell and scream at me some more.

“We omit things all the time, Elle. Every day. In all walks of life,” he said. “If we told every person we came in contact with every truth and fact about our lives, we’d all die alone.”

“That’s a pretty sad way to look at things.”

Cole took a step towards me. I ordered myself to stay where I was. “Let’s say you wake up tomorrow and your dad asks you how your night was. What would you tell him?”

I smirked at him. “I’d tell him it started out nice and ended with a lot of frustration and confusion.”

“And if he asked you what you did?”

I knew where he was going with this and I didn’t like it. “I’d say I went for a drive.”

“Exactly,” Cole said victoriously, “and that wouldn’t be a lie, but it would be an omission of what else you’d done tonight.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. I omit. What’s your point?”

“I omit, too, Elle. We all do,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t beat yourself over it. I could have just as easily asked you if you had a boyfriend, but you know why I didn’t?”

I bit my lip, wondering what good any of these confessions would be.

“Because I didn’t care.” Cole took another step towards me and I knew if he took one more, my willpower would be a lost cause. “That first day I saw you, I didn’t care if you were with someone else. That night at the bonfire I didn’t care. And last night”—his eyes flashed with the reminders—“I really didn’t care. I wanted you then, Elle. And I want you now. You might belong to someone else, but you kind of belong to me, too.”

My heart was about to beat out of my chest. I’d never been talked to, or looked at, with the degree of intensity burning in Cole’s eyes. To say it was intense would have described a fraction of it.

“So don’t apologize to me. Explain it to me.” He took a breath. “Explain to me why you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

I could have answered so many ways. So many explanations for the reason I’d “omitted” it, but all answers boiled down to one.

One answer that I shouldn’t admit to Cole, especially with the way he was looking at me now. Once I told him, there’d be no going back. There’d be no going back to the point where we could play innocent. Pretend consequences weren’t a thing of our world. Pretend the guilt wouldn’t eat us away.

This was perhaps the worst possible time to take a hiatus from
should
.

“Because when I was with you,” I began, feeling my whole world about to change. It was heavy in the air. “I didn’t care either.”

Cole exhaled, almost like he was relieved, before taking another step towards me. I was right. The moment he took that step, my willpower vanished. I don’t know who was more surprised, Cole or me, when I crossed the last few feet between us before looping my arms around him.