SWNOVELS Broken Hearts: Chapter 15
hard and fast, like a punch to the gut. I thought I had fortified my heart with a wall of hatred and contempt for Cole, but now I see the cracks in that defense, and I can’t pretend they’re not there. Overwhelmed, I run, desperate to avoid falling back into a cycle I’ve vowed to leave behind.
Restless in the middle of the night, I decide to pack my bags and get into the car, planning to text the girls in the morning about leaving early.
When I arrive home, seeing my dad’s car in the driveway brings a comforting sense of normalcy, a stark contrast to the chaos I’ve just fled.
Parking on the curb, I grab my bag and make my way to the house. As soon as I open the door, I freeze, hearing the sound of feminine laughter coming from the kitchen.
Making my way down the hall, both my father’s laughter and the unknown woman’s resonate, their joy mending a part of my soul that was unknowingly aching.
I walk in, and there, sitting comfortably with a mug of tea in her hands, is Mrs. Harper, my old English teacher. Dad sits across from her, a sheepish smile on his face, his eyes alight in a way I haven’t seen since Mom passed.
The scene before me is like a photograph from another life, one where grief hasn’t yet touched our family. Mrs. Harper always had a kind word. A gentle smile. Seeing her here now, in our living room, with my father, brings a sense of warmth I didn’t realize I was missing.
My father pales when he sees me. “Oh, Eva, I—” He stands, embarrassment clear in his voice. “I didn’t expect you before the weekend.”
I shrug. “I missed home.” I turn a genuine smile toward Mrs. Harper. “I’m happy to see you.”
She stands and pulls me into a hug, which I’m happy enough to return. I saw the happiness on my dad’s face when I walked in, and just for that, I am all for it.
“I assume you’ll go to school soon, but I’ll see you both tonight?”
Mrs. Harper looks at my dad, who’s standing behind me, and she smiles. “I am not certain tonight, but I’ll see you again before you go back to school.”
I nod as she leaves, watching my dad follow her to the door, his posture awkward yet tender. The sound of their low voices drifts back to me, a gentle murmur of a budding relationship. I turn away, giving them a moment of privacy, and make my way to my bedroom, the sanctuary of my memories and dreams.
The familiar comfort of my room envelops me as I close the door behind me. I pause for a moment, taking in the sight of my old posters, the shelves lined with books, and the photographs capturing moments of a happier past. This room has witnessed my tears, my laughter, and my silent battles. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I let out a long, deep breath, feeling so many emotions swirling within me.
The door opens quietly, and my father steps in, a hesitant look on his face. “Eva, I… I didn’t want you to find out like this,” he begins, his voice laden with regret.
Looking up at him, I see the vulnerability in his eyes. “Dad, it’s okay,” I say, my voice gentle. “Mom’s been gone for five years. You deserve to be happy. She would have wanted that for you. I want that for you.”
He comes in and sits beside me on the bed, grabbing my hand. “I don’t want you to think I’m forgetting your mom.”
I squeeze his fingers. How could I ever think that? It was their love that made me believe I could have that too. “I’d never think that, Dad. Plus, I really like Mrs. Harper. Are you two… living together?”
“Call her Susan.” He sighs. “No, well, not really. I was waiting to see if you were okay with all of this.”
I turn toward him, and in a wave of emotion, I hug him, trying my best to contain my tears. My father has always put me first in everything, made all the sacrifices for me. And even now, when he seems to have a real chance at happiness, his concerns are still about me. This last thought makes my composure crack, and a few tears escape my eyes.
Dad pulls back a little, and his eyebrows etch in concern as he cups my cheek. “Sweetheart, why are you crying? Is everything okay at school? Is that why you came up early?”
I nod silently, trying to rein in my tears.
“What is it, baby? Tell me.”
“I just… I missed home, and I decided to come. I love you so much, Dad, and it breaks my heart that you think you can’t be happy if I don’t want that. You—” I clear my throat and shake my head. “I’m growing up, and it makes me so happy to know that you’re not alone. I love that there’ll be someone here with you to make you laugh the way I heard when I walked in. She obviously makes you so happy, and I love her for that already.”
My father’s face has a tense, almost pained look, and I know it’s how he looks when he’s overflowing with emotion.
He pulls me back into his arms and kisses the top of my head. “I could not have dreamed of a better daughter.”
“And I could not have asked for a better dad.”
He kisses the top of my head again, and we stay silent for a moment.
After a little while, he sighs and pulls back. “I’ve got to go to school. I have boys to torture.”
I laugh. “They love their coach.”
“What are you going to do in the meantime? Do you want to come? Walk down memory lane?”
I know my smile wavers at the chilling thought. The school holds many happy memories, excellent ones even, but the last months made it something I wish I could forget forever.
I stand up and grab my bag, trying to mask my emotions from my dad. He doesn’t need the burden of my pain, my complicated mess with Cole. He believes my high school date stood me up at prom, causing my upset departure, my accidental injury, and Max’s timely intervention. The truth is far more complicated, a web of lies and hurt I will never unload on him.
“I think I’ll unpack, maybe take a nap, and then see Max,” I say, keeping my voice steady.
My father purses his lips but nods. I know he’s not overly happy for me to spend that much time with an ex-Navy SEAL ten years older than me, but my father sees how much Max helps, and he backs away.
“Alright. Let’s have dinner tonight, you and me.”
I feel a surge of warmth at the thought. “No, have Susan join us too.”
His face morphs into a big smile. “She’ll like that.”
He kisses my forehead and stops as he reaches my door. “You’ll call me if you need anything, right?”
“Of course. Now go, we wouldn’t want them to think the coach is slacking!”
He snorts. “As if.”
I watch out the window until I see him pull away from the driveway. As soon as he’s gone, I settle on top of my bed, looking at the ceiling, lost in my thoughts. I need to rebuild my defenses, fortify the walls around my heart that he has started to crack. Max will understand; he always does. He’s my safe harbor in the storm that’s brewing inside me.
The short night finally catches up to me, and I fall asleep as soon as I close my eyes.
Awakening from a restless nap, I feel an urgency to move, to expel the turmoil churning inside me.
Leaving the warmth of home, I go to Max’s gym which, with its familiar smells of sweat and steel, is a refuge where I can silence the chaos in my mind. The gym is officially closed for the afternoon, but I know that doesn’t apply to me. Max and I have that kind of understanding. He’s my brother now.
The gym is quiet when I enter, the silence offering a contrast to the usual racket of grunts and clanging weights. Max is there, only wearing a pair of sweats, showing his chest covered in scars, and methodically organizing equipment. He looks up, his face breaking into a warm, knowing smile as I walk in.
“Hey,” I greet him, trying to sound more upbeat than I feel.
He turns toward me, and if he’s surprised to see me, it doesn’t show. “Eva,” he responds with a nod. “How’s my girl doing?”
“Good,” I offer with a noncommittal shrug.
He only raises an eyebrow but otherwise remains silent.
“I’m okay.”
He crosses his arms on his chest, still silent. I hate when he does that. It feels like he’s interrogating me without uttering a word.
Sighing in defeat, I finally admit the truth, “I’m lost.”
He nods, relaxing. “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.” He stretches his neck from side to side. “You look like you could use a good session.”
I can’t help but smile. Max always knows. I shed my hoodie, standing there in my sweatpants and sports bra, ready for action. The familiar feel of the mat under my feet grounds me and brings me back to a sense of normalcy.
We start slowly, Max leading me through a series of stretches, but the real therapy begins when we start to spar.
“Talk to me.” He’s gentle but firm, pushing me just enough to make me work for it.
He pulls me toward him and swirls me around until my back is against his chest.
“I’m weak,” I say as I put my leg behind his and pull to make him lose his balance.
Distancing myself, I turn around to face him, taking a fighting stance.
He snorts. “Absolutely not. You’re one of the strongest girls I know.”
I find myself opening up about my struggles and my weakness for Cole without ever saying his name. “I slept with him, and I feel like I can so easily get lost in him again, despite…” I shake my head, and I attack.
Max counters me and makes me fall flat on my back.
“It’s okay to have weaknesses,” Max says as he extends his hand to help me up. “It’s human. Giving in sometimes doesn’t make you weak; it makes you real.”
His words resonate deep within me. There’s comfort in the physical exertion, in the honesty of our fight. It’s a dance of sorts, one that allows me to express my frustrations and fears in a way words never could.
“He’s not to blame for everything. At least not for this,” I add, showing him my palm.
“But he’s guilty of what led to it.”
Of course he is, I think as I give Max a sharp nod.
“You can survive him. If you go back into his arms, I can assure you you will not end up on that bridge again. You’re not the girl you were a year ago, and even then, what happened was a slipup, a moment of weakness, and trust me when I say we all have them.”
I let my eyes drift to his chest and the scars marking it.
As if he can read my thoughts, he continues. “Even me, little one… especially me.”
I want to ask what he means by that, but he moves fast and takes me down. My reflexes are there this time, and as I crash, I wrap my arm around his neck and my leg around his knee to take him down with me until he’s lying on top of me.
“Well played.” He chuckles.
Just as he’s about to stand up, the door to the gym bursts open, and Cole strides in. His presence is like a sudden storm cloud, darkening the calm aftermath of my training session with Max. He stands there, his eyes taking in the scene before him—Max and me on the mat, a picture that could be misinterpreted in so many ways.
Max takes his time to stand up, but his muscles are tense as if he’s preparing for a fight.
I scramble to my feet, feeling a flush of heat rise to my cheeks. “Cole, what are you doing here?”
His gaze is icy as it flicks between Max and I. “I could ask you the same,” he retorts, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Thought you might be late for our dinner, being hours away from Silverbrook and all.”
Feeling a surge of irritation at his tone and the possessiveness that drips from every word, I glare. “I didn’t realize I needed to report my whereabouts to you,” I snap back, trying to keep my voice steady. “How did you know where to find me?”
Max, who had been silently observing the exchange, stands up and offers Cole a cold, measured look. “She’s here because she wants to be. Something wrong with that?”
Cole’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, I see the flash of anger in his eyes. But almost as quickly, he reins it in. “No, nothing at all. Just making sure she’s not overdoing it. You might catch a cold half-naked like that, Angel.”
“I can take care of myself,” I say firmly, trying to defuse the situation. “I don’t need you checking up on me.”
His eyes flash with something so malicious I am bracing for the next words coming from his mouth.
“Did she tell you we slept together?” he sneers, his eyes locked on Max in a challenge.
Max’s expression shifts from anger to disgust and something darker, more dangerous. “And you claim to care about her well-being? You follow her here to assert your claim, yet you have no qualms shaming her?” He shakes his head, his disappointment palpable. “Remember, boy, if I hadn’t been there, Eva would be dead!”
Cole pales, and so do I. The air feels thick, suffocating, as if every breath is a struggle. The words hang between us, a stark and haunting revelation.
“Dead?” Cole’s voice is a whisper, his usual bravado gone.
“Max, don’t,” I whisper, but it’s a version of him I’ve never seen before. He looks like an avenging angel.
Max’s fury seems to escalate, his control slipping away. He charges at Cole, his hand finding his throat. Cole, still reeling from the shock, doesn’t react immediately.
I can’t move, frozen in place by the unfolding drama. Max’s voice is a distant echo, recounting the worst night of my life.
“You should have seen her that night. She was wearing this pink silk dress covered in blood. Her hand…” His voice cracks, a rare show of vulnerability from the usually stoic man. “Her hand was mangled, her dreams shattered, all because of you.”
He pauses, his grip on Cole’s throat tightening for a moment before he regains some semblance of control. “And now you come here, acting like you have any right on her when she’s the only reason I’m not killing you and leaving your body in a shallow grave.”
Cole’s face is a mixture of horror and disbelief, his eyes flickering to me for a brief moment before returning to Max. “I-I don’t understand,” he stammers, trying to defend himself, but Max isn’t having any of it.
“You don’t get to talk about understanding,” Max spits out. “You almost destroyed her. I found her on that bridge, rich boy. Teetering on the edge, lost in a world of pain that you caused. She was ready to jump, and just as she let go, I caught her wrist. A few seconds later, and she would have disappeared into the water below.”
Bile rises in my throat, a mix of shock and despair. This can’t be happening. Not here, not now.
Max’s words paint a picture so vivid, so raw, that it feels like I’m reliving that night all over again. The despair, the helplessness, the overwhelming urge to let go and end it all.
“And that dress,” Max continues, his voice a low growl. “That damn dress. It was supposed to be for a special night. Instead, it became a symbol of her nightmare, soaked in her own blood.”
The silence is heavy with accusations, a tangible presence in the air. This is all because of Cole. His actions, his decisions, they led us here, to this moment of reckoning.
Max releases him abruptly, pushing him back with a look of utter contempt. “You’re lucky she’s made of stronger stuff than you’ll ever be. You’re lucky I caught her in time because, I swear, Cole Westbrook, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”
The raw intensity in Max’s voice sends a shiver down my spine. I realize, in this moment, how close I had come to being a mere memory, a tragic story whispered in the halls of our school.
Cole, now free from Max’s grip, looks lost, his usual confidence shattered. His face becomes a canvas of shifting emotions, telling a story of its own. Initially, there’s a hard glint of denial in his eyes. “No, that’s not… it can’t be because of me,” he stammers, disbelief and refusal clouding his voice.
But as the gravity of Max’s revelation sinks in, I see the denial crumble into guilt. Cole’s eyes, usually so assured and piercing, now betray a turmoil of confusion and pain. “I didn’t know, Eva,” he says, almost a whisper, a confession to himself more than anyone else. His gaze turns searching, pleading. “Angel, tell me this isn’t true,” he pleads, his voice cracking under the emotional strain. It’s a plea for denial, for a way out of the guilt that’s engulfing him.
I can’t respond. My silence is my answer, and it hangs heavily between us. His posture deflates. The revelation of his actions and their consequences visibly weighs on him. The confident, unshakable Cole I knew crumbles, leaving a more vulnerable figure in his place.
I can’t stay here, not now, not with this truth out in the open. I turn and run, the sound of my footsteps echoing in my ears as I flee from the scene, from the memories, from the pain that Cole brought into my life.
And as I run, I know one thing for certain—I can’t keep running forever. I’ll have to face this, face him, but not today. Today, I need to escape.