Broken Hearts : New-Adult Angsty College Romance (Silverbrook University Book 2)
Broken Hearts: Chapter 23

Taking it slow with Cole feels right, but it’s not without its challenges. I constantly wrestle with the line between guarding my heart and giving in completely. Leaving his bed after we make love is always hard. The warmth and safety of his arms are tempting, his coaxing kisses and loving words nearly breaking my resolve. But for now, I manage to stay strong.

Today, as a small gesture to our connection, I chose to wear Cole’s jersey. It’s a subtle thing, especially since it will mostly be hidden under my coat, but to me, it feels like a significant statement.

“Umm, Westbrook, huh? What happened to ‘just an acquaintance’?” Nessa teases from my doorway, grinning. Today, her long silver-and-purple hair is styled in thick braids, paired with black leather pants and a purple tank top under a black fishnet top. Her look is more grunge than goth, but her fiery spirit is unmistakable.

I try to shrug it off casually. “So what? It doesn’t mean anything. My dad wears Ronaldo’s shirt, and he’s not romantically attached to him.”

Nessa’s laughter fills the room, her eyes sparkling wickedly. “So you say… who knows?”

I can’t help but join in her laughter, even though a part of me wonders if I’m fooling myself. “What about you and Liam, huh? Just ‘friends with benefits,’ no feelings involved?”

She hesitates for a moment, her carefree facade faltering slightly. “Yeah, that’s all it is,” she replies, but her tone lacks conviction.

“I wish I could believe you,” I say, watching her closely.

Nessa shrugs, avoiding my gaze. “Poppy will join us there,” she suddenly says, switching topics. “She had a shift at Pizz-tachio.”

I turn to face her again. “Do you think I’m an idiot?” I blurt, wording my unspoken thoughts.

She looks at me, puzzled. “You’re a former violin prodigy studying seven subjects and assisting a professor. So stupid,” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Sighing, I sit on the edge of my bed. “I mean about Cole.”

“What part exactly?” She asks, tapping her black nail against her lips.

I pause, considering. “Is there more than one part?”

Nessa shakes her head. “You’re not an idiot, but I’m no expert. My dating history is a series of disasters.”

Standing up, I grasp her shoulders. “You think I’m crazy for giving him another chance, right?”

She shakes her head again and removes my hands, holding them in hers. “No, I think it’s brave. And honestly, Cole can act all alpha, but he is whipped. Are you really taking it slow or just keeping him at arm’s length? Because when you’re ready to forgive and give him a second chance, you have to be all in. Otherwise, it hurts everyone.”

Her words leave me speechless. Am I really just holding back?

“But what do I know? I’m eighteen,” She adds, turning to leave. There’s a depth to her words, a pain that comes from somewhere deeper than romantic troubles.

The way she said it spoke volumes—she knows a pain that seems to come from somewhere deeper than romantic troubles because Nessa is way above that, and I don’t think she would ever let a man affect her that way.

I grab her wrist, stopping her. “Who’s doing that to you?” I ask when she turns around.

Her expression darkens. “My family.”

As Nessa and I head to the stadium, my mind whirls with her words. The revelation about her family weighs heavily on me, creating a need to know more, to understand her pain. But another thought nags at me, too—am I really being fair to Cole? His patience and willingness to take things slowly have been more than I could ask for, yet Nessa’s words echo in my mind. Am I holding him at arm’s length?

Determined, I decide to invite Cole over tonight. I remember his warning—if I didn’t want to spend the night, I shouldn’t have him in my bed because once there, he wouldn’t leave before morning. This feels like a big step, a way to show him that I’m ready to give more, to be all in. It’s a decision that makes my heart race with excitement and apprehension.

We arrive at the stadium and replace Poppy already seated in the premium section. Despite the stadium being covered, there’s a chill in the air that seeps through my clothes. I wrap my jacket tighter around me, my mind still partially elsewhere.

The game progresses, and Cole is as spectacular as he has always been. When halftime hits, he looks my way and winks. I pull out my phone and send him a text, knowing he will see it.

Me: I’m thinking that we could celebrate in my bed tonight. What do you say?

My finger hovers over the “send” button before I press it, sealing my decision.

Just before the second half starts, my heart skips a beat as my phone vibrates, anticipating his response.

Cole: I knew you could not resist my skills, Angel. It will be a night for the history books.

A wave of nervous excitement washes over me, but I know I made the right choice.

As the second half begins, a sudden shift in the atmosphere catches our attention. Poppy, Nessa, and I turn simultaneously, and there he is—Jeremiah Westbrook, in his perfectly tailored suit, a serious but not hostile look on his face. Beside him is a woman who, despite her less frequent media presence, I instantly recognize as his wife. Dressed unassumingly in mom jeans and a hoodie with the Lion’s logo, she is a stark contrast to her public persona. Her smile is so warm and genuine it feels like being greeted by a long-lost friend rather than the mother of the man who has turned my world upside down.

“Do you girls mind if we sit with Miss Sinclair for a while?” Jeremiah asks, his voice carrying a notable catch as he says my name. A giggle escapes his wife, somewhat lightening the tension as she rests her hand on his arm.

Poppy and Nessa glance at me, their expressions filled with surprise and concern. I know they will stand their ground if I ask, but I give them a nod, signaling it is okay. They shift down the seats to make room, leaving me sandwiched between Cole’s parents.

For a while, we watch the game in silence, their presence both comforting and intimidating. Then, Jade Westbrook breaks the silence. She turns to me with a beaming smile, “I’m so happy to meet you,” she says, taking my hands in a motherly gesture.

Her husband, however, is less effusive. “Jade,” he warns, though there is a hint of affection in his tone. “We talked about this.”

“What? She is pretty, and she seems nice. What’s not to like?” Jade counters playfully.

But Jeremiah’s gaze on me is more calculating, his words laced with caution. “I thought you were someone who had a good head on your shoulders, Miss Sinclair. I hoped you might be a calming influence on my son.”

Hesitation grips me for a moment as I consider my words carefully. I am not sure what Cole told his parents about us. I thought we agreed to keep it a secret.

No, you told him there would be no parents meeting, but you never told him to keep you a secret. A warmth I don’t expect in the presence of an intimidating man starts to spread in my chest. Cole told his parents about me, about us, and it means a lot.

Confused, I try to gauge where he is leading with his words. “Is this about Dr. Mahoney? I’m still considering that, but I don’t think taking time is reckless.”

“He’s not talking about a doctor, sweetheart,” Jade whispers in my ear, her voice full of amusement and a hint of sympathy.

Jeremiah Westbrook leans in closer, his gaze piercing. “Did you both think you could keep it a secret, Miss Sinclair, or should I call you Mrs. Westbrook?”

The world freezes as Jeremiah’s words echo in my ears. “Mrs. what?” I blurt out, my voice a mix of disbelief and rising panic. “No, you’re mistaken.”

Jeremiah’s eyebrow arches, a calculated smirk playing on his lips. “Am I?” he challenges. “Didn’t you think the court clerk would contact my lawyer after registering your Vegas wedding certificate?”

His words crash over me like a wave, fragments of forgotten memories—a chapel, Cole’s intense gaze, a reckless decision—flash through my mind. I feel my heart pounding, shock and betrayal colliding inside.

It must have been a dream! He was sober; he never would have—I turn toward the field and look at him running. I narrow my eyes. Of course he would have! This has Cole’s controlling attitude written all over it.

My mind races, anger boiling inside me. How could he let this happen? How could he not mention it, not even a hint? I feel betrayed, furious at him for keeping this a secret, even if I had forgotten it myself.

I feel my face flush with anger and embarrassment. How could I have been so naive to think he was really taking things slow? And now, sitting here with the parents of the man I drunkenly married, I’m at a loss for words.

Jade’s hand reaches out, clasping mine in a comforting grip. Her warm, motherly touch starkly contrasts with the cold realization settling in my heart. “Eva, dear,” she says softly, her voice laced with understanding, “We’re not here to judge you. We just want to make sense of this… surprising news.”

Shaking my head, I struggle to process the revelation. This has to be a mistake, yet deep down, I recognize the truth. Visions of that night in Vegas start to become clearer—Cole lifting me in his arms, laughter, a spontaneous vow. I look down at my hand, devoid of a ring, and understand Cole’s foresight. He knew I would’ve sought an annulment immediately if I remembered.

I look around the stadium, suddenly feeling like it’s too small, too crowded, that the air can’t reach my lungs. Feeling cornered and overwhelmed, I stand up abruptly, the need for escape consuming me. “I… I need to go,” I stammer, my voice quivering with a slew of emotions.

“Eva, please,” Jade’s voice is tinged with concern as she reaches out to me, her eyes reflecting worry and empathy. “Let’s talk about this. There must be a reason behind what happened.”

But I can’t stay, not with this storm of emotions raging inside me. “I’m sorry, I can’t…” My voice trails off as I turn and hurry away, leaving a stunned silence in my wake.

I don’t look back at his parents or my friends as I leave the stands. The noise of the crowd and the game fade into the background as my thoughts whirl. I feel deceived, played for a fool. How many times have I seen him since Vegas? How many times have we talked, and he has said nothing?

As I navigate the crowd, my pace quickens, driven by a desperate need for space and clarity. The revelation that I’m married to Cole Westbrook feels like a surreal joke, yet its implications are intensely real.

My phone buzzes relentlessly in my pocket, but I ignore it, lost in my thoughts.

When I exit the stadium, the cool air hits me, but it does little to dim the fire inside. I walk aimlessly, just needing to put distance between myself and the revelation that’s turned my world upside down.

Cole and I… married. The thought circles in my head, a relentless reminder of a choice I can barely remember making. How are we going to face this? Can we face this? Right now, I don’t have the answers. All I have is a swirling storm of emotions and a need to be alone.

Reaching my car, I hesitate, knowing Cole might seek me out at the apartment. In a spur-of-the-moment decision, I head to the one place he won’t think to look—Blaze’s bar in the East end. It’s a refuge, a place to hide and gather my scattered thoughts away from prying eyes and the weight of a reality I’m not ready to face.

As I drive, the streets blur past, mirroring the chaos in my mind. What does this marriage mean for us? For me?

The bar stands inconspicuously at the end of a dimly lit street. As I approach, a couple of guys smoking by the door give me a cursory glance, their expressions unreadable. Pushing the door open, I step into the dim interior of Blaze’s bar.

The place is a haven for ex-Navy SEALs and Army veterans in general, but tonight, it’s thankfully quiet. The walls are adorned with military memorabilia, and the air is tinged with the scent of aged wood and whiskey.

Behind the bar stands Blaze, a man in his thirties with dark-brown hair and striking green eyes, so much like mine. A scar crosses his lip, giving him a rugged appearance that adds to his charismatic presence. He’s cleaning a glass when he looks up and notices me.

“Are you okay? Do I need to call Max?” he asks, his voice laced with concern. Max, my adoptive older brother and Blaze’s former SEAL teammate, is the reason I know about this place.

“No, I need a little space,” I say, making my way to the bar.

“And you come here? To this bar?” He chuckles, setting down the glass and reaching for a Coke. He slides it across the bar to me. “What happened?”

I take the Coke, my fingers wrapping around the cold bottle. “I made a mistake,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. The words feel heavy, loaded with more meaning than I can begin to unpack.

Blaze leans on the bar, his demeanor shifting to one of attentive listening. “We all make mistakes. It’s what makes us human.” His eyes hold a depth of understanding, a reflection of the experiences etched in his scar and the stories hidden behind those green eyes.

I take a sip of the Coke, its coolness offering a brief respite from the turmoil inside me. “It’s not just any mistake,” I continue, hesitating. “It’s about… I got married in Vegas. And I forgot.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he doesn’t press for details. Instead, he nods, acknowledging the complexity of what I’ve revealed. “That’s a pretty big thing to forget,” he says gently.

A guy a few stools away from me snorts. “I wish I forgot I got married too…”

Blaze glares at him before turning back toward me.

I let out a humorless laugh. “You can say that again. I thought it was a dream until his father mentioned it at the stadium today in front of everyone. I… I had to get out of there.”

Blaze listens, his expression empathetic. “Maybe you wanted that too, you know.”

I shake my head. “He tricked me,” I insist, but my voice lacks conviction. I know Cole; he’s pushy and obstinate, but this is insane even for him.

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need,” Blaze offers, his tone warm and inviting. “This place might be for tough ex-military guys, but we’ve got a soft spot for lost souls trying to replace their way.”

I smile, grateful for the sanctuary he’s providing. In this bar, surrounded by the silent strength of those who have faced their own battles, I replace a moment of peace, a chance to gather my scattered thoughts and brace myself for the conversation I’ll eventually need to have with Cole.