No Second Chances (8 page)

He carried me into the house and set me down on the seat of one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“Thanks,” I said, and tried not to miss the feel of his body against mine. “Do you think my dad is all right?”

Cole gestured with his head. “Yeah, he’s still asleep in the other room.”

I wrinkled my nose. “How does his neck look?”

“Pretty sore and bruised, but he’ll survive. What the hell was he doing?”

I sighed and shook my head. “He said he was looking for his keys, but who the hell knows. He might as well have been searching for fairies, he was so out of it.”

Cole frowned. “Does he get like that often?”

I hated talking to Cole about this. Even when we’d been teenagers I’d done my best to hide my dad’s drinking, almost even more than he had. Since my dad had been fired, I figured there wasn’t much point in making a secret of it anymore.

“Too often for my liking,” I admitted.

“Jesus. I’m sorry, Gabi. Like you don’t have enough to deal with.”

I sighed and ran my hand over my face. “Yeah, my life’s just a fucking bed of roses right now.”

“I know the feeling.”

No,
I wanted to say.
You asked for what happened to you, or at least a large portion of it. I never asked for any of this. You can carry on and live a normal life, but I’m stuck with my disability forever.

He must have noticed my silence. “What’s wrong?”

I didn’t want to throw a whole heap of accusations at him now, especially not after he’d just helped me. Plus I carried my own guilt about what had happened back then, and I didn’t want to bring it all up again. I was still bitter from the past, there was no doubt about it, but what I hadn’t realized was that I was also bitter about the future.

“I have an appointment to get my new leg in a couple of days,” I said instead, “but my doctor is never going to fit it with an injury.”

“It might be better by then,” he suggested.

I shook my head. “Even if it’s the slightest scrape, he won’t allow me to even wear my old prosthetic, never mind fit me for a new one. The risk of infection is too high, and if there’s swelling, it won’t even fit.”

“When is it?”

“Eleven on Friday morning.”

Cole frowned. “I’m supposed to be working the lunch shift, but I’ll get it changed.”

“Why would you do that?”

“So I can take you, of course.”

I shook my head. “I don’t need you coming with me, Cole.”

“It doesn’t have to be a need. Sometimes you’re just allowed to just want something.”

I let his words sink in. I hadn’t allowed myself to want anything in a very long time.

Cole walked over to our refrigerator and pulled open the freezer section, and started hunting through it.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for ice to help with any swelling, and then I’m taking you upstairs and making sure you’re comfortable before I leave you again.”

Leave you again.
I tried not to read too much into his words.

“You don’t need to, Cole. You did everything I asked.”

“I’m not leaving you here like this.” He paused and pulled out a cool pack I’d kept in there for exactly this kind of swelling. “Ah-ha. Here we go. Right, now I’m going to carry you upstairs. I assume you’re still in the same bedroom?”

I nodded, my cheeks heating from the memories of all the times we spent in that bedroom. There was nothing quite like that passion of a first love, of exploring each other’s bodies, and for me, my sexuality for the first time. We hadn’t been able to get enough of each other back then. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing, or had the fact I was now an invalid put any kind of thought like that from his mind.

As though we were a newly married couple, Cole scooped me back up, and then balancing me on one knee, he reached out, picked up the cool pack, and dropped it onto my stomach.

I squealed and snatched it back off again. “Hey, that was cruel!”

He laughed, his eyes creasing at the corners in a way they hadn’t when he was eighteen. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

I caught him staring at me, and my heart flipped. “I thought you were taking me upstairs.” Why did everything I say make me think of him in that way?

He grinned. “Of course.”

With me clutching the cool pack in one hand, the other hand around his tattooed neck, he carried me up the stairs to the bedroom. I tried not to focus too much on the soft hairs at his nape and the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers. He pushed open the door and placed me carefully on the bed.

“Wow, this place doesn’t look any different.”

I kept feeling as though we were slipping through cracks in time, brief flashes of how things had been all those years ago. Then I’d be back in the present with a sickening jolt, remembering how things were now, and how they would never go back to the way they’d been. Ever.

He stood back, his hands on his hips. “Right. Tell me exactly what you need.”

“I’m fine, Cole, thank you. I might have lost my leg, but I can still take care of myself.”

The truth was, I needed to remove my leg and see what the damage was, but I had no intention of doing so in front of Cole. The process was ungainly and embarrassing, and I wasn’t about to show him what my stump looked like, especially not if it was swollen and possibly scraped up, which I suspected it was.

“Can you just check on my dad again on the way out?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, Cole.”

He gave a regretful smile. “Any time.” He looked like he was hesitating, considering something, but then he turned and left.

Unexpected tears filled my eyes, my heart clenching.
No, no, no.
I couldn’t still have feelings for Cole Devonport. There would only ever be heartbreak in store for me if I allowed myself to go down that route. The feelings would never be reciprocated, and even if I allowed myself to believe for a moment that they were, there was nothing to stop him screwing everything up all over again.

***

I lay in
bed that night, trying not to worry about my appointment. Wrenching my stump today might set me back weeks, and I could even end up back in a wheelchair, temporarily, at least.

Would Cole really come to drive me? It would mean he’d see my stump, and the thought filled me with anxiety. No, if he did turn up to take me, he would just wait outside. There was no reason for him to come into the office with me.

My phantom limb sensation was driving me crazy. I knew it was partly because of my anxious state that it was worse tonight, my brain sparking off too many nerve endings and trying to communicate with a limb that no longer existed, but that didn’t mean I could stop it. As I lay in bed, I had the horrible feeling I still had my leg, but instead of laying flat in a normal position, it felt as though it was bent at the knee, and my leg and foot were hanging through a hole in the mattress. I’d experienced the sensation plenty of times before, but it didn’t make it any less unnerving or distressing. I tried to shift onto my side, but now it felt as though the leg would have been bent at an unnatural angle. Even though I knew the limb wasn’t even there, never mind bent weirdly, I couldn’t get the thought out of my head and my heartrate increased, panic clutching my chest. If I continued to lie there, I’d end up with a full-blown panic attack—something that I’d started to get a handle on in recent months. I needed to distract myself, and that meant giving up on sleep.

I should probably go downstairs to check on my dad. His neck was most likely swollen and bruised from getting it stuck in the gate—my mind still boggled at how he’d managed to get himself in that situation—and I hoped it wouldn’t swell enough to affect his breathing in any way.

Sudden bitterness rose inside me. I shouldn’t be worrying about him right now. He should be here, taking care of me. I hated how selfish his addiction to drink had made him. He didn’t even know I had taken a fall, never mind actually care if I was hurt. If it wasn’t for him and his stupidity, I would never have slipped in the first place.

Anger filled me. Next time, I’d leave him out there. I’d let the neighbors see, and I’d call the emergency services.

I was done protecting him.

Chapter Fourteen

Cole - Eleven Years Earlier

I approached the
garage where The First and Last practiced, muffled rock music already thumping from behind the closed door. I frowned and broke into a jog.

They’d started without me.

I guessed Ryan was trying to make a point that I hadn’t been around much lately. I was only ten minutes late, but I hadn’t seen the guys as much as normal. Since the night I’d found Gabi wandering the streets in the rain, I’d done my best to spend time with her, ‘accidentally’ bumping into her in the mall, and sitting with her at lunch. She treated me with the kind of tolerance someone might have at finding a stray but cute dog suddenly following them around everywhere, but I was desperate for her to see me as something more.

I was still annoyed with myself for making a mess of things on that first night when I’d invited her to band practice. I didn’t know what I’d been thinking, strutting around like a god-damned peacock, trying to get Gabi’s attention by flirting with her friend. I’d totally misjudged her, thinking she’d be like other girls—just happy to be in my company. What an idiot I’d been. I felt especially bad as I was now the cause of her falling out with her friend, though I couldn’t help thinking Taylor wasn’t much of a friend if that was all it took to ruin their friendship. Maybe I didn’t understand the fairer sex at all.

Gabriella was constantly on my mind lately, her wide smile and big eyes always willing to jump into my head. I hoped I was wearing her down. Breaking down those defenses she’d built so high around her. I could still feel the imprint of her lips against my skin, how I’d caught a waft of her perfume—something sweet and citrus—as she’d leaned over and kissed me after I’d driven her home. I knew she was hiding something, but I didn’t know what. The thought her dad might be hurting her bothered me, though I’d never seen any unusual bruises on her, and she didn’t dress to hide her skin. It wouldn’t be unusual for a guy like him to be easy with his fists—a power thing—not that I was one to talk, though I’d never laid my hands on a woman. I wondered if that might have been the reason Gabi’s mom had taken off when she was small. Though I knew it wasn’t a good thing to have in common, I liked that Gabi understood how it felt to not be wanted. Selfish, I knew, but I’d always been a selfish son-of-a-bitch.

How could I be anything else when I’d never had anyone to care about other than myself?

But now, for some reason I couldn’t explain, I cared about Gabi. Our relationship was currently as innocent as a newborn baby, but she’d somehow woven herself into my heart. I took hope in the fact she’d kissed me on the cheek the other night. I needed to get her alone, take her on a real date, but nothing I came up with felt good enough for her. I didn’t have much money, and the thought of taking her to the movies or just to the diner for something to eat didn’t feel adequate. For some reason, getting Gabriella Weston to notice me felt like the most important thing in the world.

We were just kids and I was dreaming to think we might have something together—we barely knew each other—but I couldn’t help fantasizing about the future. I imagined I would have a place of my own, and we would spend some real time together, cooking meals and cuddling up on the couch to watch boxed sets of DVDs. I’d never had my own space before, where I could do whatever I wanted, and to have Gabi at my side made the fantasy perfect. In fact, I realized, if she wasn’t by my side, I feared the loneliness that had been at the center of my soul since I’d been a small child would only deepen.

Each day that passed brought me another day closer to my birthday.

I knew my foster parents wanted me out. I’d been fighting with Danny again, and they’d now separated us, so I was sleeping on the couch. I could tell they were counting down the days until they’d be rid of me, and I didn’t blame them. Life would be easier for them with me no longer around, but they were too good people to just throw me out or try to get me placed with another family when I was so close to being free from the system.

Though I was looking forward to being independent, the prospect gave me sleepless nights. I didn’t have many opportunities ahead of me. I hadn’t had much of an education, no job, no family to give me a helping hand. I was in this on my own. Sure, I had the band, but even I wasn’t dumb enough to think we were going to hit the big time. We weren’t exactly mainstream. The only thing I knew anything about in the world was how it felt to be an unwanted kid raised by the state. I didn’t think there was much I could do with that—it wasn’t as though anyone was going to stump up money for my college education any time soon.

Perhaps someone would take me on as an apprentice, though I had no idea what I could be an apprentice at. I wasn’t particularly good with cars, having never had a dad or older brothers to show me my way beneath the hood of a vehicle. My skills in a kitchen were limited to toast, and I knew nothing about plumbing or electrics.

Besides, I didn’t even know if an apprentice’s wage was enough to rent a room, never mind an entire apartment. But I
did
want to work, and I was willing to do anything. I wanted to get out of the system and start to build a life for myself, off my own back. I’d been floating around for so long, all I wanted was to create some roots and anchor myself for a while.

I bent down and hooked my fingers beneath the old style garage door and hauled it up to send it backward across runners overhead, revealing my bandmates, still jamming. My drum set sat empty and silent in the corner.

Ryan jerked his chin at me, and Mike gave me a half smile, but Adam just stared at the ground as he continued to pluck the strings of his bass. I forced a smile back and then wove between them to take my seat behind the drums. I picked up my sticks and was about to beat out a rift, when the song came to an end.

“Break time, guys,” Ryan called.

Shit.

I didn’t know if he’d done that as a deliberate slight, but already my back was up.

“You coming, Cole?” he said as he walked past.

A door on the back led out behind Ryan’s house, which the garage was attached to.

I hadn’t expected the invite. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

I got to my feet, leaving my sticks beside my drum set, and followed them out. They sat in a patch of sunshine, rolling cigarettes from papers. I didn’t smoke—I tried it a few times, but I just didn’t like it. I wasn’t averse to a couple of drinks if they were being offered, but I would avoid the tobacco.

Except this time I noticed they were dropping more into the hand-rolled cigarettes than tobacco. I was used to smoking weed on the odd occasion, but this was something else.

“What you got there?” I asked.

“Just a little extra something to perk us up.” He held lit the cigarette and took a toke and then held it out to me. “Want some?”

I lifted a hand. “Nah, I’m good, thanks.”

“You don’t have to smoke it. You can snort some if you want.”

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

He shrugged and handed the cigarette over to Mike. “Suit yourself.”

I sat awkwardly with them while they passed the smoke around. Before long they were laughing together, making me feel like a total outsider. I’d never felt uncomfortable in their company before—well, maybe occasionally, but not like this. If I’d felt like I was on the outskirts of things when I’d walked into band practice, now I felt like I was practically on a whole other continent. Was this still some kind of punishment for having Gabi around? Or did they not even give a shit, and this was just something that was going to have been around anyway?

I got back to my feet and shoved my hands in my pockets. “So, are we going to jam, then?”

They’d been laughing with their heads together, but looked around as I spoke, as though they’d forgotten about my presence altogether.

“Yeah, sure, dude,” said Ryan. “Let’s jam.”

I tried not to let my relief show as we headed back into the garage. Everyone took their positions and I slid onto the stool behind my drum set. I was glad to be back on comfortable ground, and as soon as Ryan counted us in, we were all playing together just like usual. I tried to put the memory of whatever they’d been smoking out of my mind. It wasn’t my business. They were adults and could do whatever the hell they liked.

I felt sure I didn’t have anything to worry about.