"Cole?" I start to slide out of bed. "Are you awake?"

He stirs around beside me but doesn't seem to be awake.

I slip from under the covers and onto the floor.

My body aches as a result of yesterday. I just want to curl up into a ball and hibernate for a few years.

The floor creaks under my knee and my heart stops when I hear movement and a voice from behind me.

It's just Cole mumbling in his sleep.

Thank. God.

I inch my way over to my dresser and open it. My eyes close and I pray it doesn't squeak or make some other stupid eardrum-piercing noise.

Luckily, it doesn't, and I'm able to reach in two different drawers. Retrieving a new pair of underwear, a long sleeve t-shirt, and some shorts.

Putting my hair up with a claw clip, and snatching up my makeup bag, I walk out of my room and down the stairs. I dart straight for the bathroom under the staircase.

My priority right now is cleaning up as much as I can without waking up the sleeping Cole upstairs in my bedroom.

When I look in the mirror the shock almost makes me faint. I touch my face with three fingers and I wince when an intense pain replaced the dull throbbing I already feel.

My cheeks are swollen, my right eye is discoloured, but not swollen too much. At the most, my eyes are just puffy, but that could just be from the crying and lack of adequate sleep.

My lip is busted and a bit of dry blood is coming from the cut. Bruises of blue, purple, red, and black are scattered along my face. One big one on my forehead, two along my jaw, and one on my left cheek. I even have a few on my shoulders and arms. It doesn't take me long to notice finger shaped bruises on my wrist and forearm.

He really did a number on you this time, Christina. Why do you have to be such an idiot and make him mad all the time? Everything was so calm for so long and you just had to mess it up.

I scold myself in my head as I start to strip out of my t-shirt and underwear from yesterday.

There is blood on my shirt. I don't know exactly where it came from, but the culprit is most likely my lip. I don't see blood anywhere else.

Who knows... I might find a cut somewhere else when I take a shower later.

It would be dumb to take one now though because I would be risking waking up Cole.

My reasoning brings me to take a towel and do a sort of standing up bathing, using water and soap pooled in the sink.

Jeremiah and I bathed like this all the time when we were little since there were so many family members living in the duplex we shared with Abuela that the three bathtubs were always occupied by someone or other.

After changing into the clean change of clothes I brought down here with me, I put my dirty clothes in the towels basket on the floor. Brushing my teeth with my emergency toothbrush. The only thing to do next is put on make-up.

It's almost funny that the future career path I've chosen -- and that Cole hates so much -- comes in handy at times like these. My injuries have never been this bad, but a bit of foundation and concealer later, and the bruises are hardly noticeable anymore.

Happy with my work, I smile and proceed out of the bathroom. Make-up bag in hand.

A jolt runs down my spine as I open the door and smash my nose into something hard. It's Cole standing directly in front of the door.

Was he just standing in front of a closed door waiting for me to come out?

"Morning." I greet quietly, rubbing my nose.

"Mornin'," his reply is quick and cold. "Why were you in there so long?"

I hold up my make-up bag. "I was just touching up." I try to smile. My face hurts. Makeup only works as a mental painkiller. I don't have to see the damage, so it makes it easier for me to pretend it isn't there. "I was just going to go finish washing dishes and make breakfast."

"There's that lamp in the living room," he points behind himself using his thumb.

"I'll clean that up while you're eating," I assure while trying to slip past his body that is taking up a good deal of the narrow doorway.

His hand flies up and blocks the small exit window I have. His other hand comes up to my face and I flinch. All he does is take my chin in his fingers and lift my face so he can kiss me.

"Do ya'll have a TV?" he questions, scratching his jawline. His breath smells like he already brushed his teeth.

Did you bring your toothbrush with you?

"Uh, yeah," I point behind him. "There is a flat screen mounted above the fireplace."

"Thank ya, darlin'," he kisses me again and walks over there. After grabbing the remote, he plops down on the couch. "Cable?"

I turn off the bathroom light and walk to the kitchen. "I'm pretty sure. I don't usually watch TV."

That's not a lie. Not in the least. I don't watch much TV these days. Reality shows and the news channels are out of control and idiotic, plus, cartoons these days aren't that funny and pretty inappropriate to me. Maybe that's just because I grew up on Saturday morning cartoons.

Actually, now that I look back on it, those shows were a bit much as well. I mean, Miss Sara Bellum didn't even have a face, but her boobs were insane.

It's Sunday, so it makes complete sense that Cole goes straight to the sports channels. I have no idea -- nor do I care -- what sports event he decides to turn on, but I hear yelling and hollers from excited fans.

Leaving it at that, I walk to the kitchen.

Honestly, I'm not sure of the abundance of groceries I have at my disposal. The funeral was sort of last minute, so mom didn't do her usual 'fill up the fridge before I leave' thing.

I search inside and find all that I feel like I need.

Four eggs, three strips of bacon, a half gallon of milk, and a banana. On the counter, I spot peanut butter and bread. I clap my hands in shallow happiness.

Overall, it takes me probably fifteen to twenty minutes to make breakfast and clean up the kitchen as I go.

I ended up scrambling three eggs, boiling one, and cooking all three pieces of bacon. I laid aside a piece of toast for Cole but decided to make myself a regular peanut butter and banana sandwich. I figured that was enough as long as I can eat that hard boiled egg.

"Done?" Cole makes me nearly jump out of my damn socks when he comes behind me and leans over to look at the counter.

I already put all of his food on the plate. Both for presentation and so I could hurry up and wash the multiple pots and pans it took to make this mediocre breakfast.

Snatching up the plate, I turn around. "Yep," he is much closer to me than I thought. "I made you scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast."

"You eat one of the bacon," he directs, picking one up and holding it to my mouth. "Put some meat on ya'."

You just hinted a few weeks ago that I was getting fat, now I'm too skinny? Get your mind together.

I stare at it for maybe a second before I bite down on it. "Thanks."

He takes the plate from me and kisses my forehead. "Good girl." he goes to the bar and sits down.

The living room is quiet, letting me know that he turned off the TV. A good thing considering how tight ass my mother is about conserving electricity around the house.

"Is it good?" I ask curiously as I bite into my sandwich. I meticulously cut it into for little triangles. My favourite way of eating sandwiches.

"Mhm." he smiles at me lightly. "Do you have some coffee or somethin'?"

I think on it. "Yeah, we do, I'll make you some." I move to find the coffee filters and other stuff you use to make the disgustingly bitter drink. "How do you want it?" I ask without looking in his direction.

"Black." he answers in a distant tone.

That is so gross.

"Black it is, I suppose." I put the coffee on and stand there waiting for it to finish. The feeling of a hand touching me makes me jump.

Cole is suddenly standing behind me yet again. The difference this time is that he has my phone in his hand. The look on his face is dry and expressionless.

"Who is this?" he holds it up to my face and I see that I have multiple missed calls from Billy.

He must think it's some guy.

"Um..." for some reason, it takes me a while to answer.

The hand on my waist flies up and grabs my face. "Who is it, Christina?"

This especially hurts because my cheeks are already swollen. I covered them with make-up to hide the bruises, but there is no magic in it that will make the pain go away.

"The thrift shop owner." I force out. "She just has a guy's name."

"Why would you have that kind of person's number in your phone?" he narrows his eyes at me.

My cheeks really hurt. "Christiane and I go there so much that we became friends with her," I squeal. "I told her I would call her last night, but I forgot."

"Okay, so if I call it, a woman will answer?" he questions obviously still disbelieving.

"Yes, Cole!" it comes out in a yell because the pain in my face is growing. "Just call the number. It's just a nice lady."

He let's go of my face. "Fine then." he presses the redial button and it shows clearly that it is calling Billy. He puts the phone on speaker.

It rings for several excruciating seconds. If Billy doesn't answer that phone, I'm in trouble for several different reasons.

Billy doesn't answer the phone.

"Yello?" it's a guy's voice.

My voice catches in my throat as Cole grips the neck of my shirt.

"Lying, bit...!" he's cut off by whoever is on the other line. He let's go of the front of my shirt and grabs the back of my neck instead.

"Is this, Chris?" I'm asked. Who is this guy answering Billy's phone? Where is Billy? And how does this guy know my name? "Hey, is this Chris?" he asks again after I don't respond.

'Answer him.' Cole mouths.

"Yeah, this is her," I try to sound calm. "Who is this?"

He laughs lightly. "You were expecting my mom to answer the phone, sorry if I gave you a shock," he says softly and Cole almost immediately loosens his grip on me, but he doesn't let go. "This is her son, Beau."

"Hi, Beau," I reply, relieved that he answered that way. If I had asked where Billy was, it might have sounded like I was signalling for a lie. "Was it your mom that was calling me earlier this morning?"

"Yes, actually," I hear wind in the background as if he just walked outside or something. "You've got my mother obsessed over you. She told me you were supposed to call her last night and you didn't, so she kinda lost it." I hear a little voice in the background. "Hold on, sweetheart, give daddy just one sec... Anyway, yeah she is taking a shower now to cool her head."

"Okay, I'm sorry to have caused, Billy," I emphasise her name. "So much worry. Tell her to call me when she gets out the shower."

The sound of the strong wind is gone. "Yeah, sure, I will," he responds. "Christi..."

I take the phone and hang up the call. "You never trust me, Cole," I frown.

His hand is still on the back of my throat.

"Can you let go now?"

He loosens his grip. "You make it hard for me to trust you," he states attempting to hug me or something.

I brush him off and go to the fridge.

"Come on, Christina, don't hate me."

I breathe in heavily through my nose. "I don't hate you, Cole. You know I love you." I allow him to hug me from behind. The cold fridge air gives my legs goosebumps. "It's just...I don't understand why you refuse to trust me anymore." I close the fridge and my annoyance at him makes me want to get away from him right now, so I do. Making my way to the sink, I continue making my point. "What have I done to make me so untrustworthy to you?"

"You did quite a bit, darlin'," he leans on the counter and smiles at me crookedly. His brows are slightly furrowed.

Are you testing me?

"Cole...you make a big deal out of the little things," I take caution. "I mean, yes, I sometimes..." I'm slowly backing away from him as he inches towards me. "I keep things from you, but I always have perfectly good reasons."

"Those reasons?" he raises his eyebrows and backs me up against the floor-to-ceiling cupboard.

"I always try to tell you those reasons," I close my eyes so I can catch my breath. "But, you... just... don't listen to me."

He takes my hips in both his hands. "Is there anything you want to tell me about now before I find out on my own?"

"Yes." my eyes look into his. "Actually, there is. Billy wants me to work for her and her mother." I finally let loose. "As an at home caretaker... and possibly a babysitter for her son's daughter."

"Nope." he shakes his head. "I don't like it."

"What's wrong with it?" I hold in the urge to yell.

"That guy sounded too friendly..." he replies stiffly. "How do you think I'll feel about you being around that all day?"

He's right. Billy did say that he was around the same age as me and Christiane. But, seriously, how young could he be? His daughter is like five or something. I decide to go with that angle.

"Cole, please," I squeeze his shirt. "That was just his voice, but he's like in his thirties or something, why would I be interested in someone that old? Plus, my everything belongs to you, remember?" I smile with my arms wrapped around him.

He seems to scrutinise my every word. "Details?" he walks back over to the bar. I didn't realise he hadn't finished his breakfast.

"Huh?" I figure out what he means and rush to grab a cup. Going up to him and pouring coffee, I give him the info Billy gave me. "Well, Billy said that she would pay me ten bucks an hour. I'd be working only three days a week for five hours on each day. And, she'd pay me extra on days that she calls me to come unscheduled."

He keeps his eyes on me as he drinks. Still, he doesn't say anything immediately.

I know you are trying to tell whether or not I'm lying to you. I'm maintaining eye contact. That should be enough.

"Cole, the money would be really good for me to have," I take the coffee pot back to the counter. "Besides, tons of holidays are coming up, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's... those holidays are money killers and I barely have any to start with."

"I'm fine with it," he puts the cup down. "As long as you call me before and after you go."

A smile forms on my face. "Yeah, okay!" I hug his arm and kiss him repeatedly on the cheek. "Thanks, Cole. You're the best."