Only, Always, and Forever You

45 - Pity

I lowkey almost cried when writing this chapter...

Enjoy :))

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Amara's POV:

A pit burns in my stomach as I look at his father's motionless body on the ground. When he was saying all those things to my face, I felt a deep anger that I've never felt before. I'm not an angry person, but how could I not feel enraged after listening to what he said to me?

Still, his words pain me more and more as I let them sink in further.

As much as I want to scream at him and claim that he is wrong, is he? Am I not everything he said I am?

I am worthless. I am below them.

Cole probably thinks the same, and I can't blame him. Compared to their family, I am worth less than dirt.

So, why does Cole spend so much time with me? Is it pity?

Does he consider me a burden? Does he think I'm using him for his money?

I don't want him to feel like I'm an obligation to care for.

A tear streams down my face.

Cole brings his hand up to try and wipe it away, but I flinch away from his touch.

I don't want his pity.

"I want to go home," I say quietly, afraid to meet his eyes.

I can feel his expression falter at my distant demeanor, but I don't dare look up from the ground.

"Okay," he mutters under his breath before walking to the driver's side.

We get into his car and drive away, leaving his father's body on the cold ground where it belongs.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence pass before he speaks again, "Amara, nothing that he just said is true, you—"

"You don't have to say that just to make me feel better, Cole," I interrupt, "I don't want your pity."

It takes him a second to fully register what I said, but when he does, he immediately pulls over to the side of the road, puts the car in park, and turns to face me. I keep my eyes focused on some random spot through the passenger window.

"Amara," he says firmly, making me turn to face him. I see some anger in his face, but more than anything else, I see sadness and guilt. A gloss shines over his eyes, and it breaks something inside of me to see Cole— Cole Anderson— about to cry.

"Don't ever think that my care, attention, and admiration is pity," his voice slightly breaks as he speaks, "I need you to know that you are so much more than what my shithead father said. He knows nothing. He doesn't know how kind you are, even to people who have wronged you. He doesn't know how thoughtful you are, even when others have their heads stuck up their asses. He doesn't know how generous you are, even when you have nothing left to give except for your own heart. He doesn't know you. Not like I do."

A single tear makes its way down Cole's stoic face, and I instinctively reach my hand up to wipe it away. I cup his face in my palm, and he holds my hand there with his own as he leans his head into my touch.

"I know this sounds cheesy, but it's true: I have never once considered you anything other than a blessing. Not a burden. Not someone I pity. Not worthless. And definitely not a whore," he says, and I can feel him tense as he repeats what his father called me.

I gently brush my thumb across his cheek and feel him relax under my touch.

Coming from anyone, these words are significant, but coming from Cole, these words mean the world to me. There is nothing I dislike more in this world than feeling like a burden, but he couldn't have told me more clearly that I am not at all that.

"It means: How do I deserve you? You remind me of him," I blurt out, but I sense his confusion at my random admission, "What I said earlier, in Spanish— that's what it means."

"Amara, I—" he starts, but I cut him off to explain before he can say anything else.

"My father died when I was 13 due to a sudden and unexpected stroke, and since then I haven't let anyone into my life. I've been terrified that I'd lose them just like I lost him, so I haven't allowed myself to get close to anyone else. I thought I was protecting myself." I admit, "My dad was my best friend. He made me laugh all the time, comforted me when I cried, and protected me when I was vulnerable. So when he died, it was like I was losing more than just my dad. I was also losing my favorite person in the world."

I pause for a minute and try to collect myself. I want to continue, and Cole can sense that, so he stays quiet and patiently waits for me to go on.

I've never opened up this much about my father ever, not to my mom, brother, or anyone. But something is telling me that right now, I need to open up, and I trust Cole enough to do so.

"For almost 4 years of my life, I went about my life miserably, isolating myself from everyone around me so that I didn't open myself up to the possibility of feeling that much pain again." I continue, tears making their way down my face, "I became known as the loser with no friends, and in a way, that's how I liked it because it ensured that I couldn't get hurt by letting people in anymore."

I pause and look down at my lap where my fingers are fidgeting in an attempt to alleviate some anxiety. That's when Cole's hand reaches out and covers mine, calming me down enough for me to finish.

"And then I met you," I continue, "And it has been the best and yet scariest thing that has happened to me in a while. You're the first person I have allowed to see me for who I am in a long time, and luckily for me, I chose the most amazing person. You make me laugh, you hold me when I cry, you protect me with no questions asked, and you have proven to me that you genuinely care. You remind me of him in the best ways possible, and more. And I..."

I trail off, but Cole senses my hesitation and squeezes my hand in his, offering reassurance.

"And I don't know what I would do if I lost you, too."