Rescue
“Okay, hear me out—fake relationship.”
Cole turned to me like I’d just said I was an alien from Mars. “What?”
“Fake relationship,” I repeated, crossing my arms as we sat on the empty bleachers behind the gym. “You and me. We pretend we’re a couple so we can stop Edward and Mom’s wedding.”
He went silent for a few seconds. Then he let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “Faye, get a life. Seriously. You’re delusional.”
“Excuse me?” My brow furrowed. “You think I’m just making this up for fun?”
“Yeah,” he said flatly, standing up. “I think you’re overreacting because you’re emotional. It’s your dead dad’s birthday. I get it. But don’t drag Michelle into your hallucinations.”
I stood up too. “This isn’t a hallucination, Cole! You want proof? There’s CCTV footage at the restaurant. I’m not lying!”
“Then go show it to the world,” he snapped. “But leave me out of your soap opera. I’m not playing pretend just to sabotage our parents’ lives.”
“So you’re okay with Michelle becoming your stepmom?”
His jaw clenched. He didn’t respond.
“Come on,” I pressed. “If we pretend to be together, it’ll slow everything down. They’ll second-guess the wedding. Your dad will back off. My mom won’t rush. It’s temporary. Simple.”
“Simple?” He scoffed. “You seriously think we can pull that off? You and me? We can’t even have a conversation without arguing.”
“Exactly,” I said. “That’s what makes it believable.”
There was a long pause. Cole looked away, running a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening again—this time, not from annoyance, but something else. Conflict.
I took a step back. “Fine. If you’re too much of a coward—”
“Shut up,” he muttered. “Let me think.”
My heart skipped. That wasn’t a no.
Silence stretched between us for a whole minute.
The only thing you could hear was the wind whistling through the rusted metal of the bleachers. Cole remained standing in front of me, his face serious, clearly torn. Meanwhile, I was doing everything I could to calm my heartbeat, which had decided to go rogue.
“Let me get this straight,” he finally said, looking me in the eyes. “We pretend to be in a relationship to stop Dad and Emily’s wedding. That’s your plan?”
I nodded. “Just for a while. We act all sweet and couple-y in front of them. That’s it.”
“I can’t believe I’m even considering this,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.
“Believe it,” I said, smug. “It’s either this or Michelle ends up pregnant with your dad’s kid and ruins your bloodline forever.”
“Wow. Thanks for the nightmare fuel,” he replied, clearly irritated.
But he wasn’t laughing. He didn’t sit back down. He didn’t joke around like he usually would.
“You don’t even have proof, Faye,” he snapped, voice trembling—not from fear, but from frustration. “You’ve got nothing. Just your story.”
“I’m telling you what I saw!”
“You know what your problem is?” He stared straight at me, brows furrowed. “You love making drama. You haven’t even finished grieving your dad, and here you are stirring up chaos. You need help.”
I swallowed hard. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not thinking clearly. You want to ruin everyone else’s life just because you’re miserable.”
“Miserable?!” I stepped closer, eyes wide. “Because I want to protect my mom? Because I don’t want Michelle to become your stepmom?!”
“Stop talking crap about Michelle!” he shouted. “She’s not the problem here. You are.”
It felt like something crushed my chest. I couldn’t believe he was the one getting mad. I was the one trying to do the right thing—and somehow I became the villain.
“Fine,” I said quietly. “Believe whatever you want. But when this all blows up in your face… don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I turned and walked away, fast and shaking.
No one believes me.
Not even Cole—who has every reason to doubt Michelle. He was the one who defended her.
Now I stood in front of Dad’s grave, holding the wilted flowers I’d brought earlier, crushed in my hand from a mix of frustration and sorrow.
“Hi, Pa,” I whispered, hiding my tears in the wind. “This isn’t fair. It’s not fair, Pa. I saw it with my own eyes. And yet I’m still the one who looks insane.”
I sat down on the grass, not caring if it was dirty or damp. The sky tilted, and soon, the rain poured down.
But I didn’t move.
I don’t know how long I stayed there. Thirty minutes? An hour? I couldn’t tell. All I knew was the rain kept falling, like it wanted to match the weight pressing on my chest.
“Even though you’re gone… I’m still thinking about you,” I murmured, staring at his name etched in stone. “It’s happening again—the thing I fear the most. And I’m the only one who sees it. I’m the only one who believes.”
My hands started shaking. Cold. Soaked. The world suddenly tilted again, spinning a little too fast.
An hour. Maybe two.
Until I heard someone shouting.
“Fa—Faye?!”
I looked up slowly, vision blurred. It was freezing.
A figure ran toward me.
“What the hell are you doing here?! Are you out of your mind?!” Cole shouted, panting. “You’re out in the pouring rain?! Tita’s been looking for you everywhere!”
I didn’t reply.
I was trembling all over, but I forced a smile, even as tears welled in my eyes. “I just… missed Dad.”
Then everything went black.
“Faye?” Cole’s voice panicked. “Faye!”
I fell forward, right into his chest.
The last thing I heard—
“Shit. Faye?! Hey, hey—wake up! Shit!”
When I opened my eyes, I was blinded by a white light from the ceiling. I gasped, like I’d just come out of a deep sleep. My body felt heavy. And hot.
Where am I?
I looked around. White walls, shelves full of vinyl records, and piles of shoes near the door. This wasn’t my house.
I turned my head—there was a damp towel on my forehead.
Then the door opened.
“You’re awake, you crazy girl,” Cole said, walking in with a fresh towel and a glass of water.
I quickly sat up, but he placed the towel down and moved to stop me. “Hey, slow down. You still have a fever.”
“Where am I?” My voice cracked.
“My condo,” he said plainly. “You were having a full-on movie moment in the rain. I thought you were gonna dissolve right there in the cemetery. You looked like a drenched chick. I didn’t take you home—Tita would’ve bombarded you with questions.”
“Why did you bring me here?” I asked weakly, avoiding his gaze.
“Because I didn’t want you dying of hypothermia?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Also—because I know how it feels to be pissed off and alone.”
Silence.
He removed the old towel and placed the fresh one on my forehead, still cold.
“Faye,” he said more gently. “I know you’re angry. You want to stop the wedding. But… maybe just let them be happy.”
I looked at him, but I didn’t say a word.
“If there’s a problem between my dad and your mom,” he continued, “it’s theirs to fix. They’re adults. It’s not your job.”
“What if they get hurt?” I whispered. “What if I’m wrong, but my gut is right?”
“Then they’ll deal with it. That’s not on you.”
Silence again. But my chest was still tight—and it wasn’t just from the fever.
“I don’t want them to get hurt,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said. “That’s why you’re the one hurting.”
That shut me up completely. It felt like a soft slap—but one that hit right where it hurt most.
Heartbroken. Hopeless.
I closed my eyes, and my chest started to twist slowly. I couldn’t tell if it was the fever… or something deeper.
I couldn’t bring myself to talk. I couldn’t even cry.
He left the glass of water by the bedside and quietly walked away.
But just before he stepped out of the room, I heard him mutter to himself—
“Why the hell do I even care this much?”