Echoes of Scotland Street

His body shook against mine in the most wonderful way as his deep laughter filled the air around us.

CHAPTER 21

“W here do you think you’re going?” Ollie stared at my suitcases with a sneer.

Despite the fear snaking through my body, I jutted my chin out defiantly. “I’m leaving. We’re done. Get out of the way.”

I heard this inhuman growl, just before a blur of color streaked across my line of sight and a sudden pain slammed into my head.

Agony ripped through my right shoulder. I was dazed, and my vision kept blinking out, but I could still feel the pinching pain around my upper arms and the hot breath on my face.

Somehow I was on the floor. Ollie had me pinned there, his grip bruising my skin.

I shrieked in outrage, ignoring the throbbing ache on the left side of my head. I tried to push back against him, kicking with my legs, but my struggles were temporarily paused when he punched me in the gut.

The wind was knocked right out of me and I could do nothing but try to breathe.

Fire spread out across my cheeks from the almighty burning sting in my nose where his fist had just landed.

He pressed the right side of my face into the carpet—another kind of fire from the carpet burn streaking down my cheek. Then his weight was off me, but I took too long to realize it, turning my head to stare up at him as his foot swung into my gut.

I grunted, curling in on myself, gritting my teeth against the pain in my shoulder and the burst of pain that lit up my ribs every time he swung his boot into them.

“Mine, Shannon!” he roared. “Fucking mine!”

I felt the crack and the resultant agony, and the scream tore out of me before I could stop it.

There was nothing beyond the pain. I was barely cognizant of the crazy stuff pouring out of his mouth, about how it was us forever, only us.

It was only when I felt the cold air across my chest and the push of his hand between my legs that my survival instinct kicked in. Panic and terror rushed over me, the adrenaline kicking in, numbing the pain.

I fought. I clawed. I scratched and bit . . . but he wouldn’t get off me.

I felt him push against me. Ready to steal everything from me.

“No,” I sobbed. This wasn’t how it really ended. I had gotten away.

“You’ll never get away,” he panted in my face, his eyes turning black like a demon’s. “This is where you belong. No one wants you but me, Shannon. No one’s here but me. Not your family, not your brother. They hate you. They’ll never forgive you.” He kissed my lips gently. “But you’ll always have me.” His grip on my wrists tightened and he surged—

“No!” I cried out, my eyes slamming open in the dark.

I panted for breath as my eyes adjusted and I looked around. I was in Cole’s flat, in his bed.

“Shortcake?” his sleep-roughened voice queried from beside me.

The nightmare had been so real.

So goddamn real.

I sobbed in relief, drawing my arms up around my knees.

“What the f**k?” Cole muttered, and the bed moved as he sat up.

The light came on and he cursed again seconds before he pulled me into his arms. I fell against his chest, unable to control the sobs that felt like they were being ripped out of me.

“Shh,” he soothed, rubbing my back in comfort. “It was just a dream. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re safe, Shannon.”

*   *   *

I was still feeling a little shaken as Cole returned to the bedroom carrying two mugs of tea. His hair stood up in all different directions, his lids were droopy with sleep, and he was half-naked. That was because it was only four o’clock in the morning.

But he didn’t seem to care.

He handed me a mug and climbed back into bed. He slid his free arm around my shoulders to pull me into his side while we sipped the chamomile tea I’d added to his kitchen along with a variety of other stuff a few weeks ago when he told me to make myself at home.

“A nightmare?” he said, his voice still hoarse with tiredness. “Do you get those a lot?”

“Sometimes,” I admitted. “But I haven’t had one in a while.”

I was frustrated I was having them again. Especially after our trip to Lake Como. Cole and I had reached new levels of intimacy in Italy—if anything I felt safer now than before we’d left for our trip. However, we’d returned two days ago and I’d spent most of those two days trying to shove the fact that I still hadn’t heard anything from my family out of my head despite my birthday having passed three weeks ago. And the reason I couldn’t get them out of my head was my guilt. I was so happy with Cole that it just made my remorse that much more insistent. It was plaguing me. My family was plaguing me.

“What are the dreams about?”

I sucked in a trembling breath. “Ollie’s attack. Except in the dream I don’t get away.”

The air around us crackled with Cole’s anger.

“I’m okay,” I promised.

“You’re not okay.” He put his mug down none too gently on the bedside cabinet and turned me to face him. His green eyes were more alert. Anger had bled into them. “You’re in my bed having nightmares.”

I gave him a shaky smile. “It’s not because we’re not good. You know we are. We’re so good in fact that I feel guilty all the time.”

Realization dawned. “Because of Logan.”

I nodded. “I know they told me to stay away from him, from them . . . but I thought . . . They’re my family. I thought they’d call at least.”

“Not going to lie, Shortcake. I really hope they don’t. With the exception of Logan.” He shook his head. “Why did they even bother having kids?”

I laughed bitterly. “You sound like Logan. He used to say that all the time.” I sank into Cole’s embrace and sipped on my tea. “My parents just don’t have enough love to go around. They’re not capable of it. They gave most of it to each other and we get the scraps whenever they feel like it. Logan was the only one of us they ever showed genuine interest in. Amanda and I were just a second thought.” I looked up at him, saddened by the distance in my family. “Amanda’s always hated me. I was close to Logan because we were more alike. Also, I look like Mum and Amanda doesn’t, which means my somewhat narcissistic mum spent more time with me when I was little, trying to turn me into her little duplicate. That changed when I became a teenager and started developing my own opinions and interests. Still, Amanda never really forgave me for those mother-daughter bonding moments I got and she didn’t. When I got into the clueless pattern of dating losers, Amanda loved it. It was something she could bond with my parents over.”

“I’m sorry it was like that for you,” he said softly, sincerely.

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Cole. I had my grandparents.” I grinned remembering them. “They were everything my parents were supposed to be, so I never really felt like I missed out on much. But they’re gone.” My lips quivered as my eyes filled with tears. “Logan’s gone. And for once . . . I just really want my family to care.”

“I get it,” he murmured, kissing my head. “I do. And I know it’s not the same, but you have me now. I’m not going anywhere.”

I sniffled and turned my cheek to press a kiss to his chest. “I know.”

We were quiet a moment as I sipped on my tea and attempted to calm my nerves.

“I found something that might cheer you up.”

I pulled back from him. “Oh.”

“One second.” He gently eased away and got out of bed, striding from the room. He returned a minute later holding a folded-up piece of paper in his hand. He climbed back into bed and, giving me that boyish grin of his, handed it to me.

It was a piece of cartridge paper. On it was a drawing of a comic book superheroine and a zombie. She had her hands braced on her curvy h*ps and she was wearing a sexy black-and-blue costume. An abundance of red wavy hair blew back from her face as she faced off against the zombie. There was a speech bubble above her: I’ll destroy you with my razor-sharp disinterest and lack of fear, slow, stupid zombie guy.

I laughed, covering my mouth in shock.

Cole tugged the drawing out of my hand. “I drew this the night after we met when we were kids. I was big into comics at the time.”

I stared at him in wonder. “You saw me as a superhero.”

He waved the paper. “Correction. A hot superhero.”

“Cole . . . you still have it?”

“Yes. And here’s the cool part.” He settled on his side, gazing at me with so much tenderness I felt full to bursting. “Jo and I were living in Cam’s apartment at that point in my life, but my mum still lived in the flat above us. We used the extra rooms in our old flat for storage. I had a lot of artwork in my old bedroom. My mum never really let up on me even after we moved out. In fact, she blamed me—said I’d turned Jo against her.”

I glowered, my blood turning instantly hot with anger. “Does Jo know that?”

“Nah. I didn’t see the point. Jo was happy and she deserved to be. I could handle Mum.”

“So she was continuing to be a bitch to you?”

“Yeah. And one day I went into the flat to pick up something, a hoodie or jacket . . . and I walked into my old bedroom and it was a wreck. Mum followed me in, looked me in the eye, nothing in her expression, and said, ‘We’ll never be even.’ She left me to go through the destruction she’d caused. She left clothes and stuff like that alone”—he curled his lip in disgust—“and she went straight for the stuff that mattered. Photographs and all my artwork.”

“All of it?” I gasped.

“Everything . . . except . . .” He lifted the comic drawing and gave me a small smile. “I found it tucked behind the radiator. It must have whipped up into the air during her frenzy and hid out there.” He shrugged, running his fingertips over it. “It felt important that it was the one thing that had escaped her. So I kept it.”

I couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down my cheeks. There was so much going on inside me. I hurt for him and what his mother had put him through. I hurt for him in a way I didn’t think was possible to hurt for another person. The thought of anyone being cruel to him tore me up inside. At the same time I was overwhelmed by the drawing and the story behind it. There was a stunning reassurance in believing that something bigger than me had always planned to give me a life as beautiful as the one I’d found with Cole Walker.

Cole sat up to brush my tears from my cheeks and he dipped his head toward mine. His lips inches from my lips, he confessed, “I love you, Shannon. I want to protect you and keep you safe. I want to be your family and to give you mine so that you never have to feel sad about anyone who is too stupid to realize they’ve let go of something so special their lives will always be a little darker for it.”

I choked back more tears, feeling too much—much too much—all of it building in my chest. I pressed my mouth against his and clung to him, pulling the calm I needed out of him. Finally, when I felt able to speak, I broke the kiss and clasped his face. I stared straight into his eyes and fought every single fear inside me. “I love you too.”

CHAPTER 22

R ae was smirking at Cole and me as we walked over to the table hand in hand. Tony and Simon were wearing similar expressions.

“Managed to drag yourselves out of the love shack, did you?” Rae had practically yelled, and I could feel the curious and amused gazes of the other restaurant patrons burning into me.

“Remind me that I kind of love her,” I said, gritting my teeth.

Cole grunted. “Hard to do when I’m busy trying to remind myself.”

“No!” Rae continued to speak much too loudly as Cole pulled out the seat next to her. “Switch with Simon and Tony. If I sit next to you two I’ll look like someone has rolled me in flour.”

Assuming she was referring to the tans we’d gotten in Italy, I took the seat Cole had offered. “Suck it up.”

She pursed her lips in annoyance. Finally, as Cole settled into the seat next to mine, she said, “There’s something different about you. And I’m not talking about your smarter-than-usual mouth.”

I shrugged. “It’s called happiness.”

Rae’s attention flicked between Cole and me. She gave us a huge beaming, genuine smile at odds with her next words. “Cheesy buggers.”

“So, okay, I really want to find out what you think of my home country.” Tony smiled lazily, but I could see a glitter of excitement in his eyes. “But first I want to tell you something.”

“Tony.” Simon groaned.

“No, no.” His partner narrowed his gaze. “I want to know what they think.”

“About what?” Cole said.

“I want to adopt a child,” Tony announced, his usual air of insouciance gone. “Simon, he no want to because he think I’m crazy. Convince him otherwise.”

Cole relaxed back in his chair, seeming to be unperturbed by what I considered to be huge news. “Okay, well, I will but it all depends.”

“On what?”

“On if you’re crazy or not.”

Simon snorted.

Tony did not look amused. “I am ready to be a papa. I think Sy and I would make wonderful parents.”

“I think you would too,” I found myself opining before I could stop myself. From the moment he’d announced the news, sounding almost as casual as if he’d decided he needed a new car, I’d felt the irritation heating in my blood. I tried to temper it, knowing Tony had a good heart. He smiled at my words, but I cut him off. “But only if you both want it and have thought long and hard about it. A kid isn’t an accessory—something to have because it fits your mood and it’s what people expect. You can’t just return it, Tony, and you can’t ignore it because a child isn’t all you’d hoped it would be for you, and you certainly can’t raise a child in a household where one parent may possibly resent it.”