Cold Devotion | ✔️

Chapter Twenty-Six

I look over at the now familiar voice, Colton. He looks like he hasn't slept, his hair dishevelled and his usual pristine suit crinkled. "What do you mean?" I ask into the wind. Colton runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath before responding.

"When you'd need an escape... you'd always come out of this door and go to the house on Henry Way, you spent a lot of your time there," he informs me and I remember him vaguely brushing over the subject.

"Zach and I... we'd go there as children," I smile fondly, reminiscing. "I'd love to see it again," I say but Colton's face drops.

"The house is... destroyed," his voice travels through the wind and it feels like a punch in the gut as the words process in my mind. It's destroyed...

"Destroyed? How?" I question as Colton strides toward me, the wind ruffling his hair more.

His beauty really is unmatched.

"We can go there and I can tell you... if you'd like," he suggests and I nod my head slowly.

***

Colton

Seeing her look at me as if I were just a mere stranger in passing hurts more than words can describe. But I am reminded that I haven't lost her completely when she does little things like this. It's odd that even though she doesn't remember, she does the same things that she had done before - maybe it's a subconscious thing of some sort?

I am trying my hardest to be optimistic and convince her that we will restore her memories but I see the hope slipping from her and her eyes losing the usual brightness that resides in them.

We walk in a comfortable silence as we pass a few people milling about. I can't help but be a little happy that she has forgotten some things. Like the way I had treated her and the things I had done that I know she'd hate me all over again for.

I haven't told her everything, just a vague explanation of the last month and I know that she deserves to know but that selfish part of me can't stomach the thought of telling her it all.

"I had actually followed you that day," I say and meet her eyes. Her eyes that I love so much, the beautiful mixture of brown and green - my favourite feature about her other than her kind heart that continuously forgives me for my mistakes.

"For some reason I am not surprised," she laughs and I relish in the noise. Rose hasn't laughed enough the last couple of weeks.

I can't help but feel a slim bit of happiness for her that she has been relieved from those memories that had haunted her. I never understood why things had affected her so much but I've soon realised that, that is a problem of my own.

She lifts her fingers to her temples and winces a bit, so subtle that I barely even noticed. "What's wrong?" I ask but she shakes her head.

"I've just had a really bad headache all day," she says and I halt.

"We can go back if you want to," I suggest but she grabs my hand and drags me along. The feeling of her hand in mine is indescribable, her small hand fitting perfectly.

I look down at our entwined hands, her beautiful clear skin with my tattooed skin. "Oh sorry," she immediately removes her hand from mine and the loss of contact stings.

"It's... fine," more than fine. I want nothing more than to touch her for the rest of my life, to revel in the feeling of her skin against mine.

"As you were saying," she says sweetly and gives me a small smile.

"I'd followed you and... there was an attempt on your life. The roof had caved beneath us because for some absurd reason you wanted to sit on there," I laugh to myself. "We jumped off just in time but the house blew into smithereens, you saved my life," I say and meet those hazel eyes again.