Regardless of their jabs, Cole knew being back at work was a good thing. It would help give him some much needed perspective and occupy his brain, hopefully forcing thoughts of Savannah aside, if only for eight hours at a time.
When he got home from work, he found Savannah sitting on the living room floor clutching Cuddles to her chest, tears freely streaming down her cheeks.
He dropped his bag in the entryway and stormed across the living room, falling to his knees in front of her. “Savannah, what is it? What happened?” He cradled her jaw in his hands, meeting her teary eyes.
She looked at him and then back at the TV. “Oh Cole, it’s just so sad.”
He looked at the screen to see what she’d been watching. It was one of those damn talk shows that featured a cast of low lives — this episode appeared to be a girl who didn’t know who the father of their baby was. A tattooed guy strutted across the stage, shouting obscenities at the audience after learning he was not the father. The mother was not to be outdone, was wildly gesturing and shouting, nearly every word bleeped out.
Cole turned it off. “You shouldn’t be watching that trash.”
“She didn’t know who the father of her child was, and he was just so mean…” She sniffed, drawing a deep breath. “And the poor baby…”
Cole pulled her to his chest. “Shh, it’s not real. It’s just TV.” He didn’t know if that was entirely true, but Savannah didn’t need to know that. She was just too vulnerable, too impressionable, having not grown up in the real world. If he could protect her from even some of its harsh realities, he would.
After holding her for a few minutes until her tears subsided, Cole rubbed gentle circles on her back. She pulled away and met his eyes. Still red and puffy, but no fresh tears. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, unwilling to take her eyes from his. “Thanks for…everything. For taking care of me.”
Her lips were only a few inches from his. The desire to kiss her was an overwhelming need, sucking the air from his lungs. His breathing became shallow and he nodded, still meeting her eyes.
She smiled softly and rose to her feet, leaving Cole sitting on his living room rug alone. After shaking away the crazy thoughts in his head, everything from a fierce surge of protectiveness to attraction, he got up and joined Savannah in the kitchen.
He sat perched on a stool while she began dinner. As she cooked, Savannah asked about his day at work. He told her about his new case, investigating a man who was believed to be working with a known terrorist. She listened in rapt interest as she sautéed chicken and vegetables for stir fry. He couldn’t help but notice how comfortable it felt to come home to Savannah at night, rather than his empty apartment. And a hot meal too? He knew he could get used to this — and that was bad, very bad.
***
Gasping for air, Savannah untangled herself from the sheets and fought to get her breathing under control. It was just a dream. Dillon wasn’t there. Jacob was gone. And she was safe. Tell that to her heart, currently thundering in her chest like she’d just sprinted a marathon.
“Savannah? What is it?” Cole sat up in bed, running a hand across his face.
“Sorry, nothing. Just a bad dream,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Cole reached over and flicked on the small bedside lamp. Savannah blinked against the warm glow, finding Cole’s features etched in concern and his hair rumpled from sleep.
Placing his warm palm on the center of her back, he rubbed slow circles, working to calm her. Savannah drew a slow shuddering breath and attempted a smile, trying to show him she wasn’t as broken as she felt.
“What was the dream about?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.
Blinking a few times, her eyes adjusted to the light and Savannah took notice of Cole’s shirtless form. His broad bare chest was enough of a distraction, and she focused on him instead of the memories swirling in her head. “It was just something that happened a few weeks before the raid. Dillon sat me down and explained that his father had promised him that I could be his. That was why he needed to go away and work, to save up money for our future.”
Cole’s brow wrinkled and his hand stilled on her back. “What do you mean promised you could be his?”
Savannah shrugged. She knew she didn’t want to belong to anyone. She wanted to be her own woman, and be loved and cherished in her own right, but free to come and go, make her own choices. Living with Jacob, or Dillon for that matter, that wasn’t possible. Which was why she was so grateful for Cole. She kept most of these somber memories to herself, preferring instead to focus on the good things — like the children and the few friends she’d had there. But she couldn’t control her subconscious, and dreams of Jacob’s crazy rants and Dillon urgings needed to stop.
“Can you just hold me tonight?” she whispered to Cole.
His expression was guarded, but he nodded his consent and held open his arms. Savannah crawled closer, nestled herself into the crook of his arm and he lowered them both to the bed, reaching over to flip off the light. Savannah breathed in his warm, male scent and rested her head against the firm plane of his chest. As crazy as it was, she felt completely safe and at ease with Cole. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, slipping into a restful sleep in Cole’s solid embrace.
***
That Sunday Cole got changed and readied himself for a tough conversation. He ventured to the living room and found Savannah on the sofa, little magazine clippings on the coffee table in front of her like she was in the middle of some project.