I should've put the phone down. Instead, I held it like evidence, like it could still save me if I stared hard enough.
Footsteps padded down the hall. I stayed rooted in the kitchen.
Cole walked in, damp hair, sweatpants, and his towel draped over his shoulder. He looked casual and comfortable, without a care in the world.
He saw the phone in my hand and frowned slightly, but he just reached past me for a glass from the cupboard.
"Cole," I said, staring at him.
He didn't answer. He just filled the glass, took a sip, and then glanced at me like I was standing too close to the fridge.
I should've put the phone down.
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