Ten Things

Ch.19-Must be Something More (part one)

Cole

I was having one of those moments when your whole life flashes before your eyes in just a few seconds, and you realize you hadn't really lived it to the best of your abilities. One of those moments when you realized that in the few moments when you weren't living by other people's rules, you were pretty much fucking up the sacred moments you were given.

I apprehended all that, staring into Grace's large, clear blue pools.

Grace was an amazing girl and she didn't deserve any of the shit I had asininely put her in.

"I don't know," I admitted, searching her eyes for some betrayal as to what was going through her mind. It had been the truth. Even with Jayden goading me into it, I had full power to refuse. But if I was being honest with myself, there was some part inside me—however deep—that had wanted to kiss her.

And God help me if that part didn't want to kiss her again right now.

"You don't know?" she parroted, her lips turning downward. They were literally perfect. Full and pink and tasting like the freshest cherries.

I shook my head. My fingers twitched and to appease them I brushed the tips against her blonde locks. Subconsciously she moved toward my touch. Her hair was so damn soft. I moved my hand all the way through, gently tugging it loose from the braid it was in. I was feeling impulsive. Whatever I was feeling I had never felt before, and I wanted to see where it took me. My heart was pounding and my blood boiling. Grace's face was pink. "Is there a reason you always have your hair up in a braid all the time?"

"I don't know," she breathed. Her hair band fell to the wooden boards of the porch, her golden tresses breaking free and scattering over her shoulders. I paused when my fingers ran over something raised along her neck. Before she could say anything I moved aside her hair.

"What is this?" I demanded, eyes stuck on the long cut her braid had expertly covered.

"It's nothing," she mumbled hurriedly, trying to cover it up, but I used my other hand to push hers away.

"What is it, Grace?" I asked her seriously.

"I fainted again," she confessed in a quiet voice. "I hit the chair in my room on my way down."

I swallowed hard, not liking the image that entered my head. I leaned in toward her, whiffing in lemon soap and the faint traces of cologne from her spending time in the locker room. "You should be more careful," I whispered, feeling her shiver as my breath caressed her skin. Thoughtlessly I pressed my lips against the cut, a feather-light contact.

"Cole," she gasped, her muscles clenching as her body fought to identify the emotions coursing through her. If only I knew what the hell I was doing. I pulled back and looked into her eyes, and felt like the hugest dick alive.

How could I ever think I could manipulate and hurt those blue eyes staring back at me?

"Grace, I—" I began, but was interrupted when her door swung open, wholly shattering the moment. Grace took a giant step back as her mountainous father regarded us with skeptical and knowing eyes. I cleared my throat, rubbing a hand along the back of my neck.

"Dinner is ready," her father announced. He nodded to me. "Mr. Winters. You best be getting home, correct?"

"Yes sir." I avoided eye contact with either of them as I loped off the porch and more or less ran to my car.

I sat for a moment in the seat, waiting for my heart to quit beating so fast and my blood pressure to die down.

I had a whole lot of shit I needed to work out before things ended up getting worse.

"Cole! Nice of you to finally join us."

I grunted, plopping down at the kitchen table where my parents were eating spaghetti. They were—shocker—still in their business suits.

"How was practice?" my father asked me, looking like he was fighting the urge to smile. Peculiar.

"It was fine," I replied.

"How is Miss Loving doing? I heard she was a new coach."

I stiffened slightly. "She's fine, Dad." I shoved a forkful of noodles in my mouth. "Why do you ask?"

He and Mom shared a sneaky glance. That was thoroughly perturbing. "Your math teacher called today."

"Oh, yeah?" I stared down at the table. That couldn't be good.

"Yep." Suddenly he grinned. "He ever-so-kindly informed us of your withstanding 'A' in the class. Cole! Why didn't you say anything?"

I shrugged. "Honestly I had no idea."

"Well thank goodness," my mother said, leaning back in her chair. "I knew you had it in you, Cole. Your father and I are very proud."

"Thanks."

"Perhaps we didn't give Miss Loving enough credit."

The words were so unbelievable I thought for a moment I had envisioned them. My mother praising somebody? And Grace nonetheless?

Was she feeling okay?

"Hey . . . Do you have anything on them?"

"Them?" my mother questioned obliviously, turning her fork through the pasta.

"The Lovings. Do you have anything on them?"

"I'm sure we do, sweetheart. Any particular reason why?"

"Just want to check up on something," I murmured. The truth was I wanted to find out more about that family, Grace in particular. What she showed on the outside couldn't have been the whole story. There must have been something more.

"In our office, it's alphabetized. Don't mess anything up."

I jumped up from the table. "Cool, thanks." And without another comment to them darted from the kitchen and into their office. I closed the door behind me. It smelled like dry-cleaned suits and polished shoes.

Repulsing.

"Okay," I mumbled to myself, dropping in the leather chair behind a desk. I dragged a box of files onto the desk and began flicking through them. My mother's job specialty allowed her such confidential things. Technically I shouldn't have been allowed access to them, but she was so obsessed—along with my father—to turn me into one of them that she would have permitted anything.

I smiled in victory when I found a folder labeled Loving. If a family was new to Heart they most likely had to go through my mother first, and it looked like the Lovings were no exception.

I flicked open the file, thumbing through some official papers. There were things about her living in Tennessee, what her school was like and who her social worker was. Social worker? That was interesting.

One piece of paper caught my eye, and I tugged it out. It was covered in the unidentifiable scrawl of a doctor, and I could make out the name 'Dr. Greene' scribbled on the top.

Where had I seen that name before? I was sure I had at least heard it around. It sounded awfully

familiar . . .

And then it hit me.

The therapist office in town. It was owned by a Dr. Greene. I used to hear about interesting cases going in there all the time. Some would even be in the paper. But why would his file be in theirs? And why could I identify Grace's name throughout the paper?

We had said it all along; something was not right with that family.

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