Page 87 of Stolen Summer

I stiffened at the sound of my name in that familiar voice. This wave of emotion rode through me, part of it because I was suddenly not alone—even if he was the last person I expected to see.

My head lifted.

Cole stood over me, a nasty scowl etched on his lips.

I blinked. Seeing him standing only feet away lanced a bolt of shock through me as his dark eyes captured and held mine. My mind went blank and yet whirled. The combination made me dizzy. He strutted straight for me, lifting me off the floor and yanking me into his arms.

I let him hold me longer than I should, but I craved the comfort of someone else, of someone I could lean on. Cole might not be that person, but he had a foxy strength. It was like being hugged by the devil, yet other times, it was like being engulfed by angel wings.

His chest heaved, and I swore I felt a shudder underneath me, but I couldn’t tell if it was mine or his. No matter how upset or angry I was with him, I couldn’t deny the comfort he offered. His scent, his arms, his familiarity, and the contour of his body gave me a strength I desperately needed. It was like he lent me the strength I didn’t have.

When I lifted my head, our eyes met. His were somber and narrowed. He brushed a tendril of hair behind my ear.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. This was the first time we’d seen each other in a week, and I couldn’t process how I felt, not with everything going on with Frankie. A week wasn’t long yet somehow seemed like a month or more.

His hands moved from my back to run down my arms as he surveyed me. “You’re okay,” he murmured, still doing a thorough examination as if he couldn’t believe I wasn’t hurt.

I couldn’t blame him considering how I looked. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I let them awkwardly fall to my sides. “Only because of Frankie.” I tripped over her name, my voice quivering, and my vision obscured with tears.

He wiped the dampness slipping down my cheeks, not caring about the blood. “How is she?” he asked as if realizing for the first time my best friend was hurt and why I was at the hospital.

I shook my head. “I-I don’t know. She’s in surgery.”

“Stay here. I’ll see if I can get any information on her.” He shed out of his white tee. “Here, put this on.” He tugged his shirt over my head.

“I’ll ruin it,” I protested, but it was pointless.

“I have an extra shirt in my car.” Guiding me to a chair, he sat me down. “Don’t move. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Watching him walk shirtless to the nurse’s station, I wrapped my arms around the clean cotton that felt like a blanket against my skin. It seemed wrong that Frankie lay alone on an operating table while I had Cole swooping in like a white knight.

I had no doubt the young woman behind the desk would give Cole any information he wanted, and how could I blame her? Seeing the perfectly sculpted chest covered in tattoos did one of two things to the female population. They either gawked in appreciation or judged in fear.

She was a gawker.

His handsome face only enhanced the Cole effect.

As my gaze followed him, I remembered he never told me how he ended up at the hospital. How had he known I was here? Why had he thought I was the one hurt?

I couldn’t hear what he said to the nurse, but she appeared charmed, a sheepish, sympathetic smile on her lips.

Any other time, I would have rolled my eyes.

I took out my phone and made the difficult task of calling Frankie’s mom, a conversation I dreaded, but it had to be done.

Cole returned, wearing a different shirt, as I finished talking with a now very frantic and frazzled Carrie Barlow. Frankie’s mom was a bit scattered on a good day. She would be an utter mess, rushing to be by her daughter’s side.

“She’s stable,” Cole said. “Still in surgery, but so far, it doesn’t look like any vital organs were impacted. The biggest concern is the amount of blood she lost. The doctor believes she will pull through with a full recovery.”

“Oh god,” I sighed. The tension I’d been holding in my shoulders unknotted as I dropped my face into my hands, taking a moment to breathe easier. “I was so scared.” I was an emotional wreck, the sobs I’d been suppressing finally breaking and freely falling down my cheeks.

Cole pulled my head to his shoulder, and I buried my head into his neck while he rubbed circles on my back. He brushed his lips over my hair before resting his chin on my head. “Let it go, Killer.”

It took another long few moments, but I managed to pull back, wiping my eyes. “I’m sorry for slobbering all over you.”

He frowned in that Cole way of his. “Weirdly, it wasn’t horrible.”

A mangled chuckle bubbled out of me. “Don’t make me laugh.” Humor of any kind evoked feelings of guilt.