The Night Vigilante

XIX. Grace

{When my fingers find the pulse on his neck, my legs opening so he can come closer, I can feel the familiar feeling of falling.

            I am terrified of heights, of physically falling, so I guess it’s no different metaphorically when it comes to the boy in front of me, his soft touch a revelation that maybe I’ve already fallen.}

Grace POV

           Cole’s fingers dig into my waist, pulling me forward so I am nearly sitting on him, all the while never breaking the kiss.

            There is something urgent- almost frantic to the kiss, like after all these years of only being able to watch each other from a far, this was too good to be true.

            I run my hands down his head and neck to rest on his chest and I feel like my heart is going to explode when my phone goes off.

            Normally, I would ignore it, but given the fact that only one person was assigned that ring tone, I know I have to answer it.

            Cole, intending to ignore it, pulls away reluctantly when I push him back, my eyes avoiding his.

            “Where the hell have you been?” Thatcher bites out through the phone as soon as I answer it.

            Immediately, everything comes to a screeching halt, the feeling of needing to keep cool settling thickly in my mind.

            “You could’ve been dead for all I know from your stupidity,” he continues, his tone furious.

            “I’m okay, I just wanted to spend a few days by myself,” I say defensively, acutely aware of Cole beside me.

            I shove away the desire to curl into Cole’s arms when Thatcher mutters a nasty curse word on the other line, a telling sign that he is indeed beyond pissed.

            “I’m going to your house right now,” he tells me, not even asking.

            I swallow my anger at the fact that he didn’t ask anything when it came to me, it was just ‘I am going to do this because I own you’.

            I think back to the night the intruder broke in and I suddenly remember that I didn’t even clean up the mess-

            “No,” I say quickly. “I’ll come to you.”

            Cole places a hand on my knee and I dwell on the simple touch, something so different from Thatcher’s touch.

            “Fine. Don’t be late,” he mutters, ending the call.

            Exhaling, I lower the phone, my face still warm from Cole, the feeling of his hands on my face a memory I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

            When I look up at him to tell him that I need to leave, he is stare off into space, deep in thought, my words dying in my throat.

            “Salem’s coming,” he tells me, gently sliding my legs off of his body to clear some space between us on the bed.

            I barely have enough time to run a hand down my messy hair and straighten my shirt before there’s a loud thud of a knock, which Cole answers, with a gruff “Come in.”

            Salem opens the door, his large frame nearly taking up the entire door frame as he looks at Cole with a hard gaze, an unspoken conversation happening between them before Salem slides his scrutinizing gaze over to me.