I visibly winced with his choice of words. I hated them but hated the answer I had to give to him even more. “I guess it’s possible. I really don’t remember, Cole, but I can’t imagine that I would ever let Logan touch me. Drunk or not.”
“But he did touch you. He had his arm around you,” Cole argued before pulling up the picture on his phone and showing it to me.
I never wanted to see that picture again.
“Maybe I lost my balance? Maybe I didn’t know it was him? I don’t know.” I knew I sounded insane, like a drowning person desperately searching for air to stay alive.
“What were you drinking anyway?” he asked, like the question had just popped into his mind and he needed to get it out before he forgot about it again. “How did you, of all people, get so drunk that you blacked out?”
I still hadn’t worked that part out yet in my own head. “I have no idea. I literally did one sake bomb with the band, and then I drank beer the rest of the night. The only thing I can reason out is that I must have had way more than I’d realized. I mean, way more. Because one second I was fine, and then the next, I could barely stand.”
“Do you think he drugged you?” Cole’s expression turned angry, his jaw tight, eyes narrowed as he held his breath and waited for my response.
“I didn’t even know he was there.”
Cole looked downright murderous as he worked out whatever was going on inside his head. “Where’d you get your drinks from? The bartender?”
“The server kept bringing them to me. I just assumed they were from the bartender because the guys in the band told him to take care of me earlier.”
“Anything could have been in that beer, and you wouldn’t know. How did you feel this morning when you woke up?”
Ashamed. Embarrassed. Mortified. “I felt like I had a hangover. My head hurt the most,” I said before adding, “until I read my texts.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected to happen next. Maybe Cole would tell me he had proof that Logan had drugged me and that was why I’d blacked out and that it wasn’t my fault and we could fix this and everything would be okay.
“Were you violently ill when you woke up? Like food-poisoning type of sick?” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and I knew that he wanted my answer to be yes. That if I told him I was sick, then things would somehow make sense.
But I couldn’t lie to him. “No.” I had thrown up, but it wasn’t the kind of violent vomiting he was asking about. I’d thrown up because my actions had made me sick.
He didn’t say anything. He leaned away, his jaw unclenched and his fists unfurled, and I knew we were back to being in a situation that wasn’t fixable. A situation I had no excuse for.
I sniffed and reached for a tissue. “How did you find out what happened? What did Logan say to you?”
Cole frowned. “He sent me a text. He thanked me for leaving town.” He cleared his throat before continuing, “Then, he sent that picture of the two of you and said not to worry, that he kept you warm last night.”
All words escaped me. What can I possibly say to that?
I had nothing.
No defense.
No case to argue.
No cards to play.
Cole reached for me, his strong hands covering my own as he pleaded, his blue eyes glassy. “God, Christina. I don’t want to believe Logan. I really, really don’t. Just tell me you didn’t do it. Tell me you didn’t do it and I’ll believe you. Just say it never happened. Please.” He looked down, and I watched as his shoulders shook lightly.
Cole Anders was crying.
I looked right at him even though he kept looking downcast as the tears spilled across my cheeks. The last thing I wanted to do was lose him, but I couldn’t do this in order to keep him. And I knew it. My heart ached so badly in my chest that I thought it might crack into pieces and fall out at my feet. A red carpet for him to walk out on.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I did was ache.
“I can’t say that. I want to, Cole, but I can’t.” My tears blurred my vision until Cole was barely visible. “I wish I remembered. I wish I could tell you with absolute certainty that Logan was lying and he was only doing this to get between us and mess with your head …”
“But you can’t.”
“But I can’t. And I’m so sorry.”
Cole pulled his hands from mine and looked up before wiping at his face, any trace of fallen tears gone. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, and he suddenly composed himself in a single breath. “I am too. We can’t be together anymore.” He pushed up from the table without sparing me another glance.
His steps didn’t falter on his way out, and it devastated me even more when he didn’t slam the door closed behind him. I wanted to feel his anger, to see if he hated me as much as I hated myself. But Cole had closed it so gently, quietly, and soft, like it might fall off the hinges otherwise.
The door stayed perfectly intact.
I was the only thing falling apart inside this apartment.
Sleeping with the Enemy
Cole
I couldn’t stay a second longer. I had to leave. To get out of there and away from her before I lied, told her I forgave her and that everything between us would eventually be okay, when the truth was that nothing would ever be okay again. It’d physically fucking pained me to look at her. I knew how much she was hurting and that she never meant for this to happen, but none of that mattered. Not if she fucked another guy.
And if Logan had done something to her drink, which I wasn’t putting past him, would it really change anything? Was I the kind of person who was strong enough to forgive her for sleeping with the enemy? I didn’t think that I was. As shitty as that sounded, I knew that forgiveness of that kind came from a place I didn’t think I was capable of reaching. It would tear me up from the inside out. Eat away at me until nothing was left.
My imagination was on overdrive, making up scenes and scenarios I couldn’t unsee even though they were all in my head. I couldn’t stop seeing Logan touching her … or fucking her. My girl.
My girl.
That was why I had to end things. Why I had to walk away with my head held high even though I felt so damn low that I could barely look up. I had no idea how I’d ever trust her again. And I couldn’t live like that—with the constant questioning and wondering. Especially when I was out of town for a game.
The last thing I needed was to be so focused on my girlfriend’s whereabouts and actions that I couldn’t focus on anything else, like my batting average.
Hopping into my truck, I pounded the steering wheel until my palms went numb. It wasn’t enough.
I wanted to hit someone.
Hell, I wanted to hit everyone.
Nothing made any sense. And even though I didn’t want to believe what had happened, the fact that Christina couldn’t dispute it only made it worse. Part of me was thankful she wasn’t blowing up my phone, but the other part of me—the insecure and vulnerable part—hated that she wasn’t even trying. Why isn’t she apologizing nonstop and begging for my forgiveness?
I knew it was irrational and illogical, but I still couldn’t help but wonder, Why am I not worth fighting for? Why does every female in my life walk out of it and never look back?