Love, Ally by Hannah Gray
twenty-one
Ally
Two Years Before
“Twenty questions?” I ask Cole sweetly.
We’ve been together for four years now. I know him inside and out. I know his body, I know his heart, and I know his soul. But one thing he’s always kept sort of hidden is his mind.
“Tell you what, angel. I’ll give you five.”
“Fine,” I huff.
Five is better than nothing, I suppose.
“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if our parents had been normal?” I ask Cole as I lean against him while we sit with our legs dangling off the bridge up the road from our house.
“Nah,” he says, throwing a rock in the water. “Wondering won’t change it, Al.”
I bite my lip and nod. “I know. I just … can’t help but wonder. That’s all.”
He gives me a knowing smile. “I know. But if my dad hadn’t been an addict, I wouldn’t have ever met you. And if I hadn’t met you … I don’t want to even imagine that.”
I jab his chest lightly. “Laying it on thick, aren’t you, Stormy?”
“Just for you, babe.” He winks.
“Do you ever miss them? Your parents?”
Leaning back on his hands, he shrugs. “I didn’t know my mom. And my dad? Well, that man, like I’ve told you before, was a piece of shit. So, no, Ally. Not one bit.”
I nod. “Do you wonder what your mom was like?” I ask this more for my own curiosity.
My dad has never been in the picture. I tried to meet him, and it was a miserable fail. Yet I still find myself wondering.
He’s quiet for a moment before looking off in the distance. “In my head, I imagine that she had sunshine hair and smelled like chocolate chip cookies. I tell myself she left because she had no choice. My dad was a nightmare.” He looks at me, his knowing eyes reading my every thought. “I tell myself these things to feel less worthless, unlovable, or damaged. But at the end of the day, I’m not the one who should be feeling any of those things, and neither are you.” Reaching over, he cups my cheeks. “Both of our parents left their kids because of something inside of them, Al. Not because of us. It had nothing to do with us.”
His answer hurts my heart. He always knows what to say to quiet my demons. The ones who make me feel everything and nothing all at once. The ones who drive me almost to the point of madness.
He’s so reasonable and rational. Unlike me.
“Two more, baby. Time’s a-wastin’.”
“Where do you see yourself in ten years?”
“I’ll be twenty-six. So, I’ll be in the NFL, for sure. And you’ll likely be a famous singer, and I’ll be the lucky son of a bitch who’s married to you.”
My smile falters as I glance at the ground. “You’ll have a lot of women throwing themselves at you and all that fame and fortune. You’ll probably forget all about me,” I say, my cheeks growing redder with each passing second.
“Never going to happen. There’s nothing I’d put before being your man. No goal, no place of arrival, no amount of money, no woman, nothing. None of that is above me and you.” He smiles as he runs his fingers down my cheek. “One more question, sweet cheeks.”
“Why did you call me the angel when we first met?” I ask the question that has always been in the back of my mind.
Standing up, he pulls me up with him and scoops me up. “Because in the darkest of my days, I prayed for you. I just didn’t know you yet. But I prayed for an angel, knowing one day, if I was patient, an angel would come.”
“An angel.” I smile.
“Yep. And I never want there to be a day when I wake up in a world where you and I are apart.” His lips kiss mine, and after, the taste of mint lingers on my lips. “Understood?”
I nod slowly, wanting to taste his lips again. “Understood.”