Intaglio: The Snake and the Coins (22 page)

Turned out, he’d
been wrong.

Realizing this
now, Cole had a wave of regret (or nausea... he’d been drinking for almost five
hours).  If he knew anything about Ava Brooks, it was that she didn’t take
behaviour like this well.  She got jumpy as hell whenever his darker
emotions came out, and tonight had been a big one.  He squeezed his eyes
closed in frustration.  There was going to be hell to pay for this
fuck-up.

“Shit!” Cole
mumbled, fumbling drunkenly with his keys.  

His hands felt
two sizes too big.  Eventually he got the door open and stumbled his way
through the garage, leaning heavily against the wall as he tried to navigate
the steep stairs.  His head spun, and he had a single lucid thought that
it was good Nina had put him and Ava here for the night, rather than the main
house.  Otherwise there’d be the risk of another confrontation with his
father, and Cole didn’t think he’d be able to keep his drunken temper under
control. 

There’d be more
than just words...
there had been before.

Wavering in
place, Cole flashed to his mother’s funeral.  He and his father had stood at
the graveside long after everyone else left.  Cole – seventeen years old
and angry – hadn’t wanted to go home with Frank and his new wife.  He’d
been furious, swearing and arguing...

“You ARE going
home with us!” his father had barked.  “You’re my son, and you will act
like one!”

Cole's back had
been turned to his father, thin arms crossed defiantly. 

“Why?” Cole had
snapped, “You sure as hell have never been a father to me before this.” 

 “You shut
your mouth before I—”

Cole had spun on
him.  His hands had been in fists, his pulse racing in anger.

“Before you
what?  Ship me off to military school?  Isn’t that the next
step?  Don’t think I—”

“Your sister
attended one the best military colleges in the country,” Thomas had roared,
“and she—“

Cole’s voice had
risen shrilly as he’d interrupted a second time.  He’d stepped closer,
taunting his father.

“God!  You
are exactly the same as Mom was.  I am so fucking TIRED of hearing about
what Hanna did!  I don’t care anymore!  Okay?  I’m not
HER!” 

 “Well
that’s for goddamned sure,” his father had sneered.  “Hanna Thomas was
more of a soldier than you’ll ever be.”

All of the words
from the last few years: Angela’s constant belittlement, his father’s
disappointments, teachers’ comparisons, had come barrelling forward. 
Cole’s tenuous control had broken.

“I DON’T CARE!”
he’d yelled, his voice shaking in anger.  “I don’t WANT to be Hanna! 
I never HAVE!  I HATE her!  I hate ALL of you!”

“You take that
BACK!” his father had bellowed, hands rising.

“Or WHAT!?” Cole
had shouted, though it had sounded like a sob.  “You’ll send me
away?  Hanna died and you took off on Mom.  YOU’RE the reason she—”

His father had
stepped closer and Cole’s fists had risen.  His heart had been beating so
hard he could hear it in his ears.

“I said ENOUGH!”
the older man had bellowed.  His face had been purple with rage, a vein
pulsing in his temple.

“No!”  Cole
had screamed, his voice breaking, making him seem like the teenage boy he
was.  All of the things he’d wanted to say through the years were tumbling
out, caustic and bitter.  “You took off on Mom and she killed herself
because of—”

Cole hadn’t seen
the punch coming.  He’d been standing one second, down on the ground the
next, clutching his cheek in horror.  He’d stared up at his father, eyes
wide.  For a brief, awful moment, a line from a poem by Leonard Cohen had
risen in his mind: ‘grave-markers are not high enough / or green / and sons go
far away / to lose the fist / their father’s hand will always seem...’

He hadn’t understood
it in English class.  He did now.

“If you weren’t
so goddamn self-centered!”  His father had roared, spit flecking his
chin.  “If you’d seen the signs!  If you had been HOME that night,
Cole – your mother might still be alive!  Now you tell me which one of us
was responsible for her death!”

As the memory
receded, Cole found himself breathing sharply, stomach roiling.  He let
his head thud against the wall, trying in vain to force the memory back into
the past where it belonged.   He pushed open the door to the guest
suite with trembling fingers, rushing to the bathroom and collapsing in front
of the toilet.  His mouth and throat burned as hours of alcohol forced
their way out, leaving him shaking and empty.

‘I deserve
this...’
Cole thought absently. 
‘Deserve the pain.’

He knew,
somehow, that what his father said at the funeral was true.  He had spent
the last seven years playing “what if” with himself, but he always ended up
losing.  ‘
Should have been there...’
the dark voice inside him
whispered.  But just like tonight, he’d taken off when things had gotten
too hard. 
‘It’s what you do, Cole…’
  Now he knew it would be
Ava’s reaction he’d have to deal with.

Stomach empty,
Cole kicked off his shoes, pulled off his clothing, and threw it into a pile in
the corner. Seconds later, he climbed into the shower, letting the scalding
heat blast away as he shivered with the fading waves of queasiness.  He
knew Ava was on the other side of the door, and he needed some time to pull it
together before he talked to her. 

Eventually the
water cooled slightly and he scrubbed his skin raw with a cloth and soap. 
He scoured endlessly, abrading himself the way he used sandpaper to smooth out
the rough edges of unfinished stone.  He was soiled and broken, and no
amount of pain was going to change that.  It felt like everything was
coming down around him and he just didn’t know what the hell to do about it
anymore.  He’d
wanted
Ava and his father to clash so that he’d be
told to leave.  Yet, they’d stayed… and Ava’d fought with his father… and
then he’d left her… and now this.

‘Fuck! 
Fuck!  Fuck!’
his mind screamed.  There was no way out of this.  She was going to
leave him.  He knew it.

Stepping out of
the shower, Cole pulled a towel from the rack, drying off before looping it
around his waist.  He brushed his teeth twice and chugged a glass of water
to get rid of the horrible metallic taste in his mouth.  Finished, Cole
stood in the fog-misted bathroom, waiting...   He didn’t know how to
explain it to her.  (Didn’t know how to explain it to himself, for that
matter.)  He closed his eyes, leaning forward until his forehead was
pressed against the cool wall.  He didn’t want to open the door and step
out because things would be
decided
then.  He knew there would be
repercussions. 

It might be over
between them.

That was what
finally pushed him to put his hand on the doorknob. If there was any chance at
all to fix things, then he should.  With a heavy sigh, Cole stepped out of
the bathroom into the sitting area, the cooler air making him feel much more
awake and sober.  Ava was waiting on the bed, watching TV.  She
flicked it off as he walked out, glaring at him as he crossed the room.

She was
incensed.

“You have some
fucking nerve!” she began before he made it over to the bed.  “I can’t
believe you’d throw me into that!”

“Sorry,” Cole
muttered tiredly.

“You set me up
in there!  You KNEW your dad would freak out, and you let me walk into
that blind.  What the fuck was that
about
, Cole?  I cannot
believe
you!”

Ava climbed off
the bed, her body tight with emotion.  Cole could see she was distraught
by the way her eyebrows pulled together in frustration, hands shaking. 

“I’m sorry,” he
mumbled. “I didn’t...”

Cole
stopped.  It was a lie to say he
hadn’t
meant for it to happen,
because he absolutely had.  He didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t
matter.  Ava yelled again before the thought had finished.

“What kind of
person
does that?!”
she snapped, stepping closer. “Honestly!  What the
hell have I EVER done to deserve that from you, Cole?” 

Her breasts were
heaving with each angry breath.  She was beautiful and furious, ready to
fight. 

“I just… I
didn’t think it all the way through,” Cole said thickly, not knowing how else
to explain.

“How could you
do that to me?!” she shouted, her voice raw and wounded. 

He wanted to
hold her... to kiss her...   but when he reached out, she yanked her
arm away and stepped back.  Her lips were in a hard, angry line, her gaze
brittle.

“I feel like I
don’t even
know
you, Cole...” she hissed, her lower lip quivering. 
“You sent me into that.  You
wanted
your father to hate me.  I
just...” her voice broke.  “I just want to know
why
.”

Cole stepped
closer, his hands going around her, holding her in a loose hug, even though he
could feel her pulling at his arms, trying to step back.  He didn’t let
go. 
Couldn’t.

“I’m so sorry,”
Cole repeated, voice breaking.  “I love you, Ava.”

She took a
ragged breath, like she was trying hard not to cry, and this time she shoved
hard, putting space back between them, her arms crossing on her chest. 

“I don’t believe
you!” she shouted, voice sharp and broken.  “People who... who
love
each other... they don’t do shit like that, Cole.”  She took a harsh
breath.  “You can’t just throw a fucking word like
‘love’
around
and think it’ll make it all right.” 

Anguish rippled
through her words, embossing them on Cole’s shame. 
‘Ava’s absolutely
right… she doesn’t deserve this.’ 
He could feel himself spiralling
down into that dark place again: the one that he couldn’t get out of without
causing himself pain.  The problem was, he couldn’t go there now. 
He’d
just come back.
  Cole pushed the feeling aside, stepping closer to
her.

“I do love you,”
he repeated, voice rising.  “I just... I messed up, okay?  I’m
sorry.... God, I’m so, so sorry, Ava.  Please...”

He reached out
to try to hug her, but she shook her head.

“No! 
Just...
don’t!”
she answered, voice wavering.  “I can’t
do this
right now, Cole.”

He reached out
to touch her cheek. This time her hand snapped up, catching his fingers before
they could reach her.  She shook her head angrily, looking up at him
through narrowed eyes.

“You were an
asshole today!” she hissed, blue eyes flinty.  She held his hand away from
her in a steely grip; their joined fingers floated between them like they were
about to dance.  “You
used
me, Cole.  That
isn’t
okay.  I’m worth
more
than that shit!”

Cole closed his
eyes at her words, breathing growing harsh. 
‘This is it...’
he
thought wretchedly,
‘the moment when she realizes I’m not worth the
trouble.’
 It surprised him it had taken her so long to figure it out.

“You are,” he
said quietly.  “And I was wrong... I’m sorry.”

His hand went
slack in her grip and he stepped back, pulling away from her.  Without
another word, he walked over to his bags, dropping down and pulling out a pair
of shorts and a t-shirt.  He pulled them on with angry movements, then
zipped up his bag, throwing it over his shoulder.  He hadn’t turned around
since he’d walked away, so it surprised him when her voice came from right next
to his ear.

“Where the hell
do you think
you’re
going?” she spit out.  Her annoyance was still
there, honing her words into sharp edges.

Cole sighed.

“I’ll give you
the suite and stay in my room in the house...” He shook his head in
frustration.  “I’ll just find my own way back to the university. 
It’s fine.”

He headed to the
door without waiting for her to answer.

Cole was going
to walk out on her.

That realization
threw fuel on the anger that Ava had been fighting since she’d arrived at the
Thomas house.  She stormed over, grabbing his arm and spinning him around
so that he faced her. 

“Where the
hell
do you think you’re going?!” she snarled. “I am
far
from done!”

One part of her
brain shouted at her to let Cole calm down, another part telling her that these
were her father’s words she was using –
but that he’d never used them like
she had
.  One final portion of her attention was absorbed in the
muscle jumping angrily in Cole’s jaw. 

He wouldn’t hold
her eyes. 

“Look,” he said
coldly.  “I get it. 
You’re right, Ava.  I’m wrong.
 
It’s over.”