Page 81 of The Heart Breaker

For a second, I forget why I came storming in here in the first place. All I can focus on is the warmth of his hand still lingering against my face, the clean smell of soap on his skin, and the look in his eyes that makes my whole body go still.

It’s a very long, dangerous second.

I pull myself together and take a step back, putting space between us until his hand drops away. “It doesn’t mean anything,” I say, tugging the jacket tighter around myself. “I was… cold. That’s all.”

His smirk only deepens, and that annoys me more than it should because he knows I’m lying through my teeth.

I turn and head toward the door before I do something stupid.

He laughs behind me, the sound sending a shiver straight down my spine.

“See you around, Prescott.”

24

COLE

It’s freezing. My fingers are numb, the cold cutting straight through my jacket, but I don’t mind it. I’ll take this over thinking too hard about how campus is empty because everyone else has somewhere to be tonight.

It was the same during Thanksgiving. I stayed here, like I always do, watching the place turn into a dead town. I never go home. The only person I actually want to see is a thousand miles away with a man I wouldn’t piss on if he were on fire.

I shove my hood up higher and pull a cigarette from the pack, tucking it between my lips. The wind keeps killing the flame when I try to light it, and by the third attempt I swear under my breath. When it finally lights, I inhale deep and let the smoke hit my lungs, hoping it takes the edge off the rest of the shit in my head.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, my stomach dropping when I see Sophie’s name flashing across the screen with a FaceTime request.

“Fuck,” I mutter, flicking the cigarette away and grinding it out under my boot.

She hates smoking. She caught me once, and I can still see the way her lip started trembling when she told me she was scared of losing me. It gutted me so hard I told her I would quit.

What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

I let out a deep breath, guilt swimming in my stomach, then swipe to answer.

She’s barely visible on the screen, just part of her face under the hood and a curtain of dark hair.

“Where are you?” I ask.

She pulls the hood of her sweatshirt tighter around her face, her eyes darting off to the side before she looks back at me. “In my room,” she whispers. “Dad’s still asleep.”

“Drunk, you mean.” I shake my head with a scoff.

Her eyes drop, disappointed, because, once again, he didn’t even try to make Christmas special for her.

I don’t care that she’s sixteen now. Don’t care that she’s taller, louder, tougher than she used to be. In my head, she’s still the little kid who used to fall asleep on my chest during thunderstorms and looked at me as if I could fix anything just by being there.

“You need me to come get you?” I ask, already figuring out how fast I can get to her in case she says yes.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m okay. I just…” She bites her lip, and something in my chest pulls tight. “I wanted to say Merry Christmas.”

Something twists hard behind my ribs. “Merry Christmas, Soph.”

“Thanks for the backpack, by the way.” She smiles. “It’s so cute. I really needed a new one.”

Yeah. I know she did.

The old one was practically falling apart and he saw it every day and couldn’t manage to get her a new one.

“Wish I could’ve gotten you something better, kid,” I mutter.