The Story So Far > Chapter 27

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Chapter 27- Cole- Whatever This Is

Life is surreal. One minute, I’m arresting my almost-girlfriend; the next, I’m shopping for flowers for a serial killer. I stare at the floral mountains in front of me with absolutely no idea where to go from here. Do I go on the nose and her blood red roses? Maybe a bit much. Daisies? Also a bit obvious. 

I shift awkwardly from foot to foot as my nose fills with one sweet scent to the other. The woman at the desk is looking at me with pity-filled eyes but I’ve already refused help. 

I really thought it would be easier than this.

“How much are the daisies?” I ask, pointing to some multicoloured bouquets. 

Her pity seems to increase fractionally and I know I’ve said something wrong before she even opens her mouth. “The gerberas are on offer.” 

I’m completely out of my depth and I consider just grabbing the closest bunch of roses, shove some money in her hand and make a bolt for it when a hand lands on my shoulder. I’m so startled that I whirl around, so on edge that, I’m ashamed to admit, I reach for my holster. 

“Whoa!” Eliza says, her hands in the air in mock surrender. “Bit on edge there Cole.” 

I move my hand quickly. “You jumped out at me, that's all.” Now that I’m calmer, I look her over with an appraising eye. She’s not in bits, she’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, which I’m not used to seeing her in, but she seems well… happy. Not like someone who lost a boyfriend and a job within twenty-four hours of each other. 

“You look good.” 

She smiles, and I could have sworn it was a genuine smile. She’s doing well, really well. Like our relationship never existed. Which, far from making me feel jealous or annoyed, gives me relief. 

“Thank you, Cole,” her eyes trace over the florists behind me and I brace for some anger. But, again, she surprises me. “Buying flowers for Daisy?” 

Of course she knows about Daisy. I’d known the uniforms wouldn’t be able to keep their mouths shut about me bringing in the Captain’s daughter as a witness to a fatal accident at two in the morning. 

“Yeah.” 

She nods, and for the first time an edge of sadness creeps into her eyes. “Honestly, I can see that working out for you.”

I open my mouth to ask what the hell that is supposed to mean, when she leans down to pick up some soft pink flower which looks a lot like a rose but isn't with the other roses. 

“Peonies are perfect for a new girlfriend. They symbolise love and good luck,” she hands me the bouquet. “Both of which I really hope she brings you, Cole.” 

My stunned hand reaches for the bouquet. “I hadn’t even realised that flowers had symbolism.” 

She laughs, although it’s a betrayal of her discomfort. Eliza’s laugh was always wide, high pitched and spiky sounding. This is more like a curated arrangement of vowels. “You never were much for flowers, Cole.” 

Is that a dig? It’s true, I never did get her flowers in the months we were together. But right now I’m trying to win back the trust of an obsessed serial killer and flowers seem like a faster way to do that than anything else but I can’t exactly tell her that. 

“Sorry, Eliza,” I say, the plastic wrapping crinkling in my hand. “I never really treated you right.” 

Her lips curl in on themselves and stretch into a tight smile as she nods slowly. “Mm. We just weren’t right for each other.” 

I walk over to the counter and she follows as I pay for the flowers, hovering awkwardly for the gift wrapping. “Yeah, guess not. How are you doing, though? You look good.” 

“I am good!” Her smile is this time a lot brighter, reaching her eyes, finally. “I’m dating someone.” 

I feel like I missed a step. I’m not into Eliza… I don’t think I ever was. But, it’s been like a week! “That’s soon.” 

She looks up at me with an amused expression and I realise my mistake. “You got caught with Daisy literally the night we broke up.”

I wince at her light hearted chastisement. “Yeah- I can see how that’s hypocritical.” I say, tightly.  “Sorry. Is he good to you?” 

My God, gift wrapping flowers takes forever. I can only hope Eliza doesn’t go on and on about how amazing this new guy is. 

“It’s still quite new. We’re still at the ‘going out for drinks and sharing stories’ stage. I’m actually seeing him tonight.”

“Thank you” I say to the florist as I grab the bouquet and start walking towards the door with relief. Turning to Eliza, we step into the autumn air. “Well, I’m really glad you’re doing so well.” 

“You too, Cole.” 

And, without warning, she pulls me into a big hug, her chest pressing against mine in a tight embrace. I wait for the feeling of longing and loss. But all I feel is familiarity. There is no arousal, no need, no fantasising… it’s just Eliza and I don’t know how I never realised before Daisy came around that there is nothing between her and I. 

I need to stop thinking about Daisy like that. She’s a mass murderer, a serial killer of record-breaking proportions and she is dangerous. 

Eliza steps back and gives my bicep a squeeze before turning and silently walking away. 

My eyes blink furiously in an attempt to get my head around what just happened- and find I need to put the whole ‘my girlfriend might be a serial killer’ thing in a back pocket to do so. She looks happy, contented and part of me is curious to know more about what she’s up to. But the majority of me just wants far away from her and the awkwardness. 

When I’m in the car, I rest the bouquet next to me and try to focus on the task at hand: winning over Daisy. Pretend I’m okay with her being a psychopathic murderer and try to win her over into giving me something to keep the handcuffs around her wrists. 

She doesn’t live far, and I’m surprised to look up to find myself pulling into her street. My heart is pounding in my chest so violently I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t bruise my ribcage. Such a small, unassuming house in suburbia. Yet she waits inside. And God only knows what waits for me in there if I dare to cross that threshold. When I dare to cross the threshold. 

I shiver involuntarily. 

Let’s hope she’s more forgiving than most psychopaths. 

All too soon I’m standing on the doorstep, my numb body clutching the flowers in one hand, tension squeezing all my muscles. I raise a fist. And knock. 

The barking from inside makes me step back in shock. A big dog for sure. But I’ve met her dogs, the regular ones at least. None of them seemed aggressive. 

The door is tugged open and my pounding heart just… stops. 

There’s nothing remarkable about how Daisy is dressed as I stare at her. She’s not in a ballgown, but in pink floral and silk pajamas paired with a white tank top with a bow on the cleavage. Her hair isn’t in some elegant updo, but balanced precariously in a messy knot on the top of her head. She hasn’t had her makeup professionally done, her skin is clear, her face naked of all products. But somehow she manages to be the most beautiful person I have ever seen. 

“Cole,” she breathes. “I thought you were my coffee order.” 

Her voice startles me out of my trance and I dumbly hold up the peonies, feeling stupid for still being attracted to the murderer. 

I don’t say a word, so it’s up to her to tell me what I’ve done. “You’ve brought me flowers?” 

I nod. “Yeah,” I grumble, my voice rougher than I would like, but a cough doesn’t seem to clear it. “I think I need to say sorry. I know it was a shock, me taking you to Sinclair. But please believe me that I wouldn’t have let you go to prison. I-” 

Her face softens slightly and she reaches for the flowers, gentle hands holding them like they’re precious. 

“You thought you had my confession on tape and you needed to follow through with protocol. I get it, Cole. You don’t need to apologise.”

She buries her nose into the peonies and inhales the sweet scent of them. When she looks up at me, her pupils are blown, the grey-blue tinged with hunger. “Do you want to come in?” She steps back, her eyes back to the flowers as though the question wasn’t a question but an order she expects me to follow. 

Wrapping myself in steel, I step into the house of a known serial killer. And am instantly accosted by a thick wet snout between my thighs. 

“Donut!” Daisy chastises with a giggle in her tone, pulling the golden lab away from me. “Sorry, I think she was ignored a lot as a puppy, she doesn’t have many manners. Do you want a drink?” 

“Water would be great.” I edge around the fat lab as I follow Daisy through the house. It’s a quaint house, I can definitely imagine the Captain living here. It’s got that homey feeling, with panelling instead of wallpaper and knick-knacks on every surface. Somehow, it feels out of place in the suburbs, I feel as though it would be better placed by the ocean. 

The kitchen is warm and tiny, with a big window overlooking the garden from the sink. Daisy pours me a glass of water and turns to cut the gift wrap off the flowers unceremoniously. 

“So… you never wanted me in prison?” she says in the same tone one might use to discuss the weather. 

I set down the cup on the counter carefully as she starts to snip the ends off the flower stems. “Yeah. I hadn’t thought it all through but I wasn’t about to let you go down for being the Heartbreaker.” 

My voice is calmer than I feel, steady, assured. Must be military training in the face of danger because I currently feel extremely aware of just how close she is to the knife block.  

Daisy sighs and looks up at me, the blue eyes looking almost grey in the light. They search me, stripping me bare with every passing second. She seems to be hunting for my fear but I look steadily back. 

“Please believe me, Daisy.” I chance a step forward and she turns to face me. 

“I do,” she whispers. 

I smile a smile as soft as her voice and take another step. “Can I hold you then?” Another step and I’m close enough to feel her warmth. 

“You hurt me.” Her voice almost breaks, those blue-grey orbs swimming in tears. “I thought you hated me.” 

I reach for her, my muscles screaming in protest. “I know,” I coo. “I’m sorry.” And my arms close around her. 

She is soft, silken and gentle. The skin of her back feels like silk against my hands. Her breasts press against my chest. I hold her tighter than I held Eliza. I feel her warmth more than I did with Eliza. My body betrays me. Even knowing everything, I want her. My chest aching in pain that this perfect woman is who she really is under this all. I hate myself for it. 

And suddenly, it’s all too easy to be the loving boyfriend. 

I press a tender kiss to the top of her head. “I couldn’t hate you if I tried.” I whisper into the top of her head. And, in the moment, I half wonder how true that actually is.