![]() ![]() ![]() His fiction tended to be heartrending depictions of love and loss with happy endings, in stark contrast to what he actually knew of reality. Cole had always been a writer and often lost himself in the worlds in his head. He’d gotten his master’s degree in literature and taught part time at a community college as he worked on getting noticed for his writing. ![]() All the sappy Lifetime movies he watched told him that education was the only way out of a penniless existence. He’d worked hard to put himself through school, managing to snag two scholarships sponsored by the state after his first semester. A place where no one would care that he was a foster brat. ![]() NYC had seemed like the Promised Land for someone like him, a place where he could lose himself in the anonymity of the city. No matter how warm he made his house, it wouldn’t warm the ice that seemed to encase his soul.Ĭole had left his North Carolina prison as soon as he’d turned eighteen. He sighed deeply, set his mug on the coffee table, and stood. He could already feel the heat ebbing as his fire lost energy. The flames crackled in the fireplace despite the warmth emanating from therein, he’d have to add wood soon. Colton Stanton, Cole for short, took a sip out of his polar bear coffee mug and let the hot chocolate warm his insides. ![]()
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