Darkness Before Dawn

just wasn't his time," he replies quietly before kissing the tip of my nose.
    "Thank you." I lean back on his chest.
    "I met my parents," he says suddenly, making me shift my body as much as it lets me.
    "What?" I gasp. "How? What happened?"
    "I went to their house with Aimee," he says with a shrug as if it's no big deal.
    "Cole! What happened? What made you finally do it?"
    "The same thing that makes me do all the crazy shit I do," he replies, shaking his head. "You."
    "Me?" I ask in confusion.
    "Baby, you'd been missing for over two weeks, I was desperate to find you. The cops had stopped searching, Mark was being an asshole. God, I have so much to tell you, but I want to make sure you're up for it, so I'll wait until we get out of here, okay?"
    I groan and throw my head back. "Just tell me about your parents."
    "So I went to their house...I saw the Home Alone house, by the way."
    "Cole! Focus!" I interrupt impatiently.
    He leans in and grabs me by the nape of my neck before he pulls me in and ravishes my mouth, making the heart monitor beep wildly again. "God, I fucking missed you."
    "Cole," I plead.
    He groans. "I went to their house-" he pauses and puts up his hands to air quote, "my mom fainted, my dad couldn't believe it, we got into an argument, and we talked about how to keep your story in the public eye. Yada yada yada, big fucking welcoming. I've been in touch with them since. I'm sure they'll be around when Aimee tells them you're here. Only if you're up for it, though."
    I look at him and sigh. "I guess." I know I can't escape the press for too long, but if the mayor comes to visit me, it's going to be all over the papers and news and then they'll know where I am.
    "Not today. Nobody comes in here today. Today, you're mine and mine alone," he says as he presses his lips to my forehead. We wrap our arms around each other, exhaling tranquil breaths, until Aubry comes back into the room with the pizza. "And Aubry," Cole grumbles. "Of course, I have to share you with fucking Aubry."
    I laugh but stop when I get a pain in my side as I sit up slowly. Thankfully, my soreness is getting better, which I'm sure has to do with the last dose of morphine Dyann gave me.
    "There are a shit load of news trucks outside," Aubry announces as he puts the pizza box down.
    "Yeah, I figured," Cole replies. They both look at me for a while. I know they're dying to ask questions but are trying to give me time, and I appreciate it because I'm not ready to talk about everything I've been through.
    A loud knock on the door makes us pause mid-chew and put our slices of pie down. Cole calls out for them to come in, and when the door opens, we're greeted by police officers. My body instantly goes rigid. I haven't had time to think of what I'm going to tell the authorities. I didn't even have time to discuss it with Cole! As if he senses my discomfort, Cole places his hands over my fidgety fingers and holds them firmly.
    "How can we help you?" Cole asks, getting up from the bed to greet them.
    They introduce themselves as Detective Ginsburg and Officer Emmanuel, and ask to speak with me privately. Aubry steps out of the room, and after going back and forth with Cole, he sits down beside me and tells the officers to carry on with their visit because he's not leaving. They start off by asking me how I'm feeling and making small talk before drilling me with the more difficult questions, the ones I cannot answer.
    "Do you remember what happened the day they took you? What were you doing? Who had you spoken to? Where did they take you? Who took you? Did you catch any names? Did you see their faces?"
    They're all completely valid questions, but I cannot answer them truthfully, so I do the only thing I can do. I lie. A lot.
    "I was getting ready to leave the park and head home, they knocked me unconscious so I couldn't see my kidnapper. I was kept in a dark room by myself and only saw them when they brought me food. They had their faces covered the entire time we interacted. I didn't catch any names. I'm sorry I can't help any more than that."
    The older gentleman, Detective Ginsburg, looks at me with disbelieving eyes and continues to ask more questions. At this point, his questions are in the form of demands, not leaving me much room to answer anything. He says I know who took me, I know where they kept me, and I did interact with them more than I say I did. His accusations make me angrier than they should. He's right, after all—I do know