Page 48 of Ice Cold Heart

Without a good reason not to, I picked up my phone and braced myself for whatever nonsense Cole had sent. Only it wasn’t Cole.

Unknown number: I know you’re hooking up with that hockey player. How long?

Unknown number: How long, Avery?

Fucking Scott. I set my phone facedown on the table and schooled my face. Not well enough, though, because Dad was scowling at it.

“Who was that?”

“Someone from Easton.”

“The reason you left?”

I didn’t answer him, which seemed to be answer enough. He stretched for my phone, but I snatched it out of his reach.

“I’m handling it.”

He glowered at the phone. I thought he’d try again, but he backed off and gathered our plates. I relaxed, expecting him to disappear into the kitchen without another word. Instead, he stopped and met my eyes.

“You don’t have to handle it alone.”

“It’s easier this way,” I said quietly.

“No, it’s not,” he disputed, leaving me alone clutching my phone.

I blew out a breath. It was easier, but I wasn’t handling it. So far, I’d ignored all of Scott’s messages, but they’d gotten increasingly specific. Alarmingly so. How did he know about Cole? There was the chance Tobias Kane had said something, but they hadn’t really moved in the same circles while I’d been dating Scott. I was unknown enough at Easton there wouldn’t be gossip about me, even after the drama with him and my mom broke.

I’d purposely left my name out of the article and focused on the professor aspect of his affair. There was no mention he’d been cheating on his girlfriend while he was fucking the faculty.

What did it matter if I was hooking up with Cole? He didn’t get the right to question my fidelity with his track record. I pulled up my messaging app, intending to send him a scathing cease and desist, but another message came through before I could get more than “fuck you” typed.

This time, it was Cole.

Cole: Thanks for last night.

Thank goodness Dad wasn’t around because my face absolutely flamed. He probably wasn’t talking about the orgasms. Most likely, he was thanking me for duck-sitting while he rescued his roommate, though I hadn’t seen Henry during my escape. And I had no idea how Cole’s night had ended. He’d come home, so I assumed no one was in jail.

My first urge was to ignore the text, but he didn’t deserve me ghosting him, especially since I still intended to help him with his lit class. I bit my lip as I considered. If I came out and told him right away I needed distance, he’d assume I was running. Maybe I could thread the needle between silence and verbal diarrhea.

Me: You’re welcome.

Simple and to the point. No drama or messy feelings necessary. I should have known Cole wouldn’t leave it there.

Cole: You going to tell me why you’re not in my bed this morning?

Me: I told you I had to get home.

Cole: You stayed.

I wanted to tell him it was nothing, but I couldn’t make myself type out the lie.

Me: Yes. I told you I’d do that too.

Cole: I want you to stay again.

The same tug I’d felt in his bedroom became a rip tide, threatening to drown me. I dropped my head to the table and let out a quiet whimper. Why did I have to approach him that day in the library? Even then, I couldn’t resist him. I needed an out, but I didn’t have one.

Me: I can’t. I’m actually pretty busy until classes start. Maybe you could meet me at the library for the next couple of tutoring sessions?