Fighter {Completed}

Bonus: He's Hurt {Ellie}

Bonus: He's Hurt {Ellie}

I know something's wrong the very moment that Cole walks through the door.

It's so slight that I don't think anyone else would notice. But I do. 

He appears more pale and his breathing seems off, so much faster and deeper than usual, as if he is trying to keep himself calm. My heart begins to race at his strange demeanor. Before I can get a word out, he makes his way to Wyatt. 

I watch him sit on the floor with us, in the middle of the living room on the large rug. He moves weird, like he's trying to keep his weight even, but having trouble at the same time. Warning bells go off like sirens in my head. 

"Are you okay?" He nods once, reaching down with his left hand to hold our sweet boy's hand. Wyatt grips his fingers tightly, Cole's lips stretching in to a smile in response. 

"What's my boy been up to?" he wonders aloud. 

Despite the red flags waving in my head, I decide not to push it right this second. Instead, I let Cole turn the focus to Wyatt. "He just woke up. I've been trying to get him to play with these toys but he is obsessed with your glove." 

Cole looks insanely proud as he stares down at his four-month-old son who grips one of Cole's unused MMA gloves in his hands, kicking his legs as he babbles softly. "Little man wants to be a fighter too, hmm?" 

My husband shifts slightly and in that moment, I figure it out. 

He's hurt. 

I read it in the way his eyes close and his jaw grinds harshly. He releases a breath as he keeps his right arm weirdly still. He's right-handed, but he has barely moved that arm since the moment he arrived. 

"Cole," I try to get his attention. 

"Yeah?" he keeps his eyes on Wyatt. 

"What did you do to your arm?" He tenses, eyes closing as he realizes that he's been caught. 

"Nothing, baby."

"Tell me." I scoot closer, gently intertwining my fingers with his as he turns his eyes to mine. Those normally bright, happy gray eyes are filled with pain, despair, and what looks to be disappointment. "Tell me," I urge again, raising my other hand to find his cheek. He turns his face into my hand, seeking comfort. 

"I popped it out of place. Nothing too bad," he tries to play it off, shrugging his left shoulder. When I refuse to take that as an answer, he sighs. "I uh... I was sparring with Sebastian. I don't know what the hell I did but my shoulder just popped. Asher told me that he thinks I dislocated it, but I didn't let him check me out."

"I'll make you a doctor's appointment for in the morning, okay?" 

Cole makes a strange face, as if confused. "Why?"

"You need to make sure you didn't do any permanent damage-"

"No." His eyes harden slightly, almost guarded. "Why would you do it?"

"Make your appointment?" 

"Yes." 

What the hell? Why wouldn't I? 

Cole must sense my confusion because he speaks again. "You can do that? Just make appointments for other people?" 

I nod my head, still puzzled at the way he seems to be almost uncomfortable with the idea of me scheduling him with the doctor. "Do you not want to go?" 

"It's not that," he frowns. "I've never heard of anyone making an appointment for someone else. No one else has ever made any of mine." 

Something in my heart cracks a little as I finally understand why my husband is being so apprehensive. It's so easy to forget that he didn't grow up like our friends, so easy to forget that he didn't grow up like I did. Sure, my teenage years and early adult life haven't been the greatest, but I've suffered no where near as much as Cole.