Cole: The Wounded Sons, Leah Sharelle [the reading list .TXT] 📗

spent most of those hours with my boss in her suite of rooms. I really only prowled the main room when I heard that Cole was home, and those times I only had eyes for Cole.

“I can’t believe the whole yard has been transformed, and the guys built a path for Nan and Pa. I wasn’t expecting them to do that.” Nodding to the still-setting concrete path leading to the washing line, I still couldn’t believe Deck insisted they do it. When he arrived with his crew, he went about asking me a hundred questions on my requirements. I made the mistake of telling him my grandparents rarely came out here because of the rocky path. The next thing I knew bags of cement were getting chucked into a cement mixer that seemed to materialise out of nowhere, and a smooth path took shape.

“Not a problem, baby, Deck had enough cement for the path, but the driveway needs a hell of a lot more, so the best thing for that is a truck load of concrete. Deck has to come back and insert the reo bar before they can pour, though.”

“Hmmm, he said early Monday morning; I will see if I can get the morning off work.”

“No need, baby; Deck and his men have everything under control,” Cole assured me, reaching for another sandwich while he eyed the half in my hand. Yes, I was still on the same half I started ten minutes ago, but I was a slow eater. It was a technique I learned while in hospital.

Take it slow and don’t let your mind register it is carbs. Distract yourself when you eat; talk, get up and get a glass of water. Keep your mind off what is going in and think instead how good it is that you can eat. My eating disorder counsellor’s advice replayed over in my mind. And that was what I did, I distracted my mind from what I was eating and focused on the fact that I could. It also meant having a meal with me was not fun for the other person.

Shrugging at Cole, I held up my half-eaten sandwich. “It’s a coping technique; I eat slowly, so I don’t feel full too quickly. Therefore I won’t feel guilty.”

“For eating?” Cole worried, his eyes narrowed.

“Eating disorders don’t make sense to someone who hasn’t had one, and I realise that, Cole. Sometimes it makes no sense to me, but it is what it is. I eat, just slowly.”

“I’m not picking on you, baby,” Cole insisted, his hand wrapping gently around my upper arm, “I’m just trying to know as much about it as I can.”

“Why?”

“So I don’t stuff up and trigger you by saying something thoughtlessly. If I know what your coping techniques are, I won’t comment on them.”

My breath hitched in my throat, the sandwich suddenly forgotten about as a warmth from Cole’s sensitivity washed over me.

“Oh, Cole,” I whispered, too overwhelmed to say anything else.

His hand crept from my arm to cradle the side of my neck. His hand was rough yet gentle and smooth at the same time, making me want more of his touch.

“Oaklee, I care about you. It’s important that I know, I read up on it a bit last night before I went to bed, but I find it better to learn directly from the source. That’s what I do; recon work is more effective watching and learning. There is only so much you can get online and reading intel. You said recovery was an ongoing process, so I am gathering as much information as I can.”

His explanation was simple and made sense, but to me, it meant the world.

“Now eat, Temptress,” he bossed with a gentle tone, directing my hand holding the bread to my mouth, his smile encouraging and not at all like he wanted to run the other way from my problems.

Biting into the sandwich, I chewed the way I always did. Thoroughly. While silently, I reassured myself that carbs weren’t the enemy anymore.

CHAPTER NINE

COLE

The last of Deck’s crew was now gone, leaving Oaklee and me alone in her new weed-free backyard. Gabe and the boys had left an hour earlier to get home to their wives, Kodah taking off for a road trip to Deke’s hometown with the last of his personal items. I was worried about him; he had grown very quiet since we lost Deke. That wasn’t unusual in itself, we all were still reflecting on the loss of our teammate and friend, but Kodah’s behaviour was different. Almost like he was pulling back from the team, at least that’s how it felt to me, so much so, I mentioned it to Bastian last night at the compound when I got back from the Bar and Grill.

“Something going on with Ziggerman?” I blurted out without preamble, walking up to Bastian. Sitting in the living area at the compound, Bastian was waiting for his turn at the pool table.

“Was going to ask you the same thing. Gabe is just about ready to rip his head off and shit down his neck,” he growled out, using his own unique way of putting things. Ammo was not one to beat around the bush, he called it as he saw it, and it was always colourful.

“He needs to talk about what happened to Deke because once we get deployed again, all of us need to be in the same headspace. What happened with Signal can never happen again.”

“Agreed,” Bastian concurred, “but something tells me it ain’t so much about losing Deke as it is about where he wants to put his dick.” Glaring at me with his intense blue eyes, a signature of the Johnston kids thanks to their father, Bastian held my gaze until the penny dropped.

“Fuck me! No way!”

“Way,” Bastian clipped, nodding his head.

“Monroe? What the fuck is he thinking!” I wasn’t asking, more worrying that Kodah was into something he