The Bad Boys and the Fighter

9

COLE

Never, in a million fucking years, would I have expected myself to live the life I was living.

"You feel better?"

"I mean, I feel like I'm not gonna die. So, I guess."

I eyed the beige ceiling. "That's good."

She opened her mouth to say something, though hesitated before finally asking, "Are we gonna talk about it?"

And there was my cue to leave. "Let me know if you need anything."

She sat up as I did. "Cole..."

My name in her mouth felt strange. I didn't like it. "I don't think there's anything to talk about, Ariel."

I tossed a glance over my shoulder as I embarked for her door. Her expression was hardened - a stark contrast to the pain I had seen her in not long ago.

"You want to know what I think?"

God, she always did this. She knew just how to get under my skin in the worst ways. "Truthfully, darling, I don't care enough to know what you think. Got it?"

I didn't leave her time to answer. I couldn't hear another word come out of her mouth. The door slammed behind me forcefully, hopefully getting my point across.

As I descended the staircase, I nearly bumped into Jeremiah. "Is she okay?" He held an affection for her I'd never understand.

I nodded and brushed past him, "Give her some space. I don't think she's ready to talk about what happened."

A large hand gripped my forearm, causing me to stop in my tracks. My patience was running thin. "Danny called her."

My brows furrowed and I spun around to face my friend. "What? How'd you find out?"

"She left her phone on the patio so Carlos hacked it. She got a call from an unknown number that bounced off cell towers in Minnesota, where his safe house is located." His expression was solemn.

"Fuck."

I resented myself for being cruel to her just then. Before I had time to wallow, Tyler emerged from the kitchen. "I'm making pasta for dinner. I think I need help."

"What did you get?" Carlos asked Tyler as I rummaged through the cabinets for a pot.

Boxes of different types of pasta scattered the kitchen countertops. Tyler tugged at his hair, "I'm not exactly sure. Just one of everything."

I picked up a box to examine it, "What the hell is lasagnette?"

"Wikipedia says it's a French type of pasta," Jeremiah read from his phone.

Tyler held his hand up to silence Jer. "Does anyone know how to even make pasta?"

Jer laughed from where he perched on the counter. "Besides quesadillas, making pasta is the easiest thing to make. All you do is stir it around every other minute until, its soft and noodely."

I rolled my eyes. "You're illiterate."

"Don't be a fucking dick."

Seeing as no one was moving to the pot of boiling water, I trudged over to the stove and stirred the noodles for a couple seconds. Their gaze burned my
neck. God, that was so dehumanizing. "Is that good?"

Tyler began to applaud slowly, a smirk rising onto his face. "Congratulations! You just stirred a pot of fucking pasta! Your girl will love that."

I scowled at the wink he tossed me. "What girl? You're the only -"