His breaths quickened, forming angry white clouds in the chilly air as he strolled across Westminster Bridge. He stopped at the center with no one around and stared down at the inky water of the River Thames.
He needed to give up this pointless quest and return to the states. Better yet, he should go to Colombia and spend the holidays with his friends. His family.
For a moment, he tried to imagine it—sitting around some elaborate Christmas tree at the Restrepo headquarters, drinking, opening presents, and celebrating togetherness. He wanted that, longed for it, right up until everyone paired off and went to bed.
Where would that leave him?
Alone and pining for the love he’d lost.
Fucking pathetic.
He laughed aloud, and the ache in his voice caught on the cold breeze, tumbling toward the river. He sounded insane—in his mind and out loud. Even the voice in his head thought he was nuts.
Maybe he was having a breakdown? Or going through some sort of mid-life crisis?
Or maybe this was what it felt like to finally let go? He’d carried the guilt around for twelve fucking years, and tonight, he’d let some of it go.
He erased her from his skin.
His feelings about it were complicated. He felt a torrent of anger and relief, guilt and redemption, grief and hope, and never-ending loneliness. It was difficult to parse through when all of it twisted up around Lydia.
“This isn’t about her,” he murmured. “Stop being a goddamn pussy and move on. This is long overdue.”
He reached beneath the neckline of his jacket and yanked his necklace free, breaking the chain. Danni’s engagement ring sat in his palm, glinting in the moonlight. Such a tiny thing, yet so heavy with broken promises and lies and loss.
He’d carried the weight of this thing for too long. Danni was happy, and he could get there, too, if he stopped punishing himself.
It was time to let go.
His vision blurred, and his eyes burned with sudden, uncontrollable anguish.
Fuck it.
He blinked away the moisture and flung the ring into the river.
Then he closed his eyes and let the tears fall. Silently, lightly, they gathered at the creases of his mouth, and he wiped them away.
He felt numb. Hollow. But so much lighter.
Removing the phone from his pocket, he dialed the number he’d called countless times over the past fourteen months.
“Hello?” Rylee’s groggy voice whispered over the line.
“Did I wake you?” He did the time conversion in his head. “It’s only eleven at night there.”
“No. Yes. It’s fine. Hang on.”
Sounds of rustling indicated she was crawling out of bed, probably trying not to wake Tomas.
“Okay,” she breathed. “You there?”
“I did it.”
“What? What did you do, Cole?”
“I inked over the tattoo and threw the ring into the River Thames.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” He exhaled and rubbed his pounding head. “I thought you would…I don’t know…have something therapeutic to say.”
“I’m processing. Give me a minute.”
He hadn’t seen her or any of the Freedom Fighters since the night he left with Lydia in the desert. That was fifteen months ago. But he talked to all of them regularly, keeping them updated on where he was and what he knew about Lydia and Mike.
“So,” Rylee said, “after twelve years of holding onto the symbols of a life you wanted, you let them go. Good for you. What prompted it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” She sighed. “You finally realized you don’t want that life anymore, that maybe you never did.”
“I disagree. I would take back Danni if—”
“Staaaahp. Do you actually believe you would be content settling down in the suburbs with a wholesome little wife, an unremarkable job, and the same uneventful, unchallenging routine day in and day out for the rest of your boring existence?”
With Danni? He would’ve made it work. He would’ve been happy with her.
And miserable in every other aspect of his life.
“Something opened your eyes,” Rylee said. “Something or maybe…someone with a flair for tattoos, knives, garters, mystery, and danger.”
His groin tightened. “She’s a threat.”
“That’s not why you’ve been stalking her for fourteen months. Do you remember what I said to you when we met?”
“You said a lot of crazy shit.”
“A lot of crazy, smart shit. You remember.”
Yeah, he remembered.
If love comes for you again, it’s going to blindside you and knock you on your ass. You’ll deny it. You’ll fight it with every breath in your body. But having already experienced it once, you know it’s a fight you can’t win. So maybe, if and when it happens, give yourself a break. Don’t fight so hard.
“That’s not what this is.” He dragged a hand through his hair and started walking toward his rented apartment. “What she did to me is unforgivable. She can’t be trusted. Ever. She’s a goddamn risk.”
“If she consumes your mind, she’s a risk worth taking. Take the risk, Cole. Or lose the chance.”
“I already did that with Danni. I took the risk and lost the chance.”
“That’s why second chances were invented. It’s never too late to begin again, have a dream, and make her yours.”
“She already has someone.”
“That didn’t stop Trace when he went after Danni, and look how that worked out for him.”
“Ouch.” His jaw flexed. “Direct hit below the waist, Rylee.”
“Did it clear your head?”
“No.”
“Come home. If you don’t feel anything for this woman, bring your ass back to Colombia, spend the holidays with your family, and put some distance between you and this thing you’re wrestling with.”
“Not yet.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “I can’t.”
“I didn’t think so. When you’re ready, we’re here. You know that.”
“I know.”
“Try not to take too much longer. We miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” he said quietly, uncomfortably. But he meant it.
“Night, Cole.”
“Good-night.”
An hour later, he lay on a cold mattress in an unfamiliar apartment and thought about Lydia.
He didn’t know her natural hair color. She wore it in every shade and style possible, usually wigs, always eye-catching. But he preferred it red, and that was how he imagined it every night when he wrapped a hand around his cock and beat off.
He thought of the thick, silken, blazing red mass of waves tumbling off her shoulders and curling around the pink peaks of her gorgeous tits. He thought of the hair between her legs, imagining it a lighter shade of red and glistening with her arousal as he penetrated her with his tongue, his fingers, and hungry cock. He thought about her rebellious little chin lifting toward him, her lips parting, begging to be kissed as he teased her, worshiped her, and gave her everything she wanted.
Christ, he was hungry. So fucking ravenous for her. He finished too quickly and continued to stroke, milking the final drops, trying to prolong the transient moment of pleasure.