Chapter Nineteen #3
Once he was done, Gene smiled and ushered them toward the truck. Tick’s presence in the back seat made Colt nervous, forcing him to concentrate hard on the drive out to the country club. A heavier quiet coated the cab, Tick responding to Gene’s conversational prompts with monosyllabic replies.
Colt shut his mouth and kept it closed.
He took the same stance on the course, through the longest golf game of his life.
If D or Gene spoke directly to him, he replied, but that was it.
Even Tick’s lack of skill on the course couldn’t lighten his mood, and eventually, his cousin withdrew from the game, simply pocketing his ball and walking through each hole.
Finally, they made it to the clubhouse and lunch. Daddy sitting to his left and across from Gene meant Colt faced Tick across the table. He ordered the grilled fish, a total waste since the lump in his throat prevented him from swallowing much more than iced water.
D squinted at Gene’s plate as he sprinkled salt over his potatoes. “Aren’t you supposed to be cutting back on that?”
“I know how not to overdo it, D.” Grandaddy shook his head and set the shakers in the middle of the table. “Your mama does a good enough job keeping me in line. She doesn’t need help.”
Tick glanced up, a sharp little frown drawing his brows together. Colt dropped his gaze, taking his fish apart with his fork so at least it would look like he’d eaten part of it. He ate out here on the regular with D or Gene or his cousins, so no need to insult the kitchen staff.
A golf shoe nudged his foot, and he jerked his head up, gaze colliding with one as dark as his own. Lamar turned his head away, pulling his phone from his pocket a few seconds later to read a text and reply.
Silence ballooned into a bubble about their table, a tension headache pulling at Colt’s temples and over his eyes. Dragging his fork through his cheese grits to approximate a bite, he set his jaw and his resolve.
He would never put himself through this again. Sure, he’d made a mistake, but he’d lived with it for years. Damn if he’d torment himself like this ever again.
An engine rumbled out on the road, and Tick straightened, his expression brightening, softening. He scooted his chair back. “Excuse me a minute.”
Colt glanced sideways, watching him walk to the parking lot, where Caitlin parked the Jeep and helped their little girl from the backseat.
The sunlight glinted over her gold necklace – some kind of ring, like a larger wedding ring on a thin chain – and she smiled while Tick swung his daughter up on his hip.
With a deliberate motion, Colt turned his attention back to the food he wasn’t eating.
Just a little while longer, then this would be over.
Today, he could see that the problem the last few years had been him, not accepting Tick’s we’re done all those years ago. He’d hung on, hoping, hurting himself.
Well, no more.
Eleanor scampered up to greet Gene, Tick and Caitlin following, and Caitlin smoothed her into leaving a few minutes later. On a sip of water, Colt caught Tick’s gaze following her as she walked away, much the same as Colt himself watched Holly.
“She’s a good mama.” Gene reached for another biscuit.
Tick glanced sideways at him and nodded. “She’s amazing.”
D tagged Colt’s arm with a gentle hand. “Your mama’d be happy if you provided her with a grandbaby with an amazing mama.”
Colt froze, fork over his plate, then released a long breath. He couldn’t go there in his head right now. “A year ago, it was she’d be happy if I got my life together. Keep moving those goalposts, Daddy.”
“So you have this job you like, and you’re doing well at it.” D waved a hand in a circle, punctuating his words. “A family might be a logical progression from that.”
Colt’s mouth tightened, a familiar heat burning up his throat. Didn’t Daddy get that today wasn’t the day? He was barely holding it together here.
He dropped his fork and leaned back in his chair, darting a look around them and pitching his voice low. “I don’t know what I want yet, Daddy. How about I just get through today?”
“All I’m saying is your mama’s not getting any younger.”
“D, he has time if that’s what he decides he wants.” Grandaddy’s voice rang even, steady as the stream of honey he drizzled over his biscuit. “You and Lamar settled down young, so you don’t always realize he has a lot of miles ahead of him.”
“Thank you.” Relief flooded Colt’s bloodstream.
“I’m about ready for my afternoon nap.” As he finished his biscuit, Gene dabbed the hunter green napkin over his lips. “D, you want to run me home? Tick can ride with Colt.”
What the everlovin’ hell? Colt darted a glance at Grandaddy before he remembered himself. Having Tick in his truck for the ride over here was bad enough.
Minutes later, after Gene had signed off on their ticket and bundled out to the parking lot with D, Colt sucked in a breath. Might as well get this over with.
“Well.” Colt folded his napkin next to his plate and his basically untouched Marley’s special. “This is awkward.”
Tick’s head jerked up, a scowl knitting his brows together. “Don’t be cute.”
“Just stating a fact.”
Shaking his head, Tick pulled his phone from his pocket and paused.
“Wouldn’t kill us to talk about it.” Colt flexed a hand on his knee, the skin around his mouth feeling too tight, itchy with stress and pressure. Had those words really come out of his mouth?
“No.” What was that monosyllable, anyway? Acceptance or rejection?
“This has to be your call.” Colt ground his teeth, until his jaw ached. “I won’t force it on you.”
Folding his napkin, Tick laid it by his plate with careful precision. His throat moved with a swallow. “What the hell is there to say, Colt?”
“That I wronged you and there’s no excuse for what I did.
” The words hurt his throat. Yeah, this was like jumping at the lime mine, all over again, except he was the only one jumping.
He glanced away, chest heaving with a deep breath before he swung his gaze back to Tick’s. “That I hurt you and I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t freaking breathe, even out here on the patio, cool fresh air wrapping around him on a light breeze. A low conversation buzzed about them, punctuated by the clink of silverware on china and the occasional laugh.
“That I’d make it right if I could and I know there is no making this right. That I love you.” Colt blinked, lashes wet, and his chin trembled before he firmed his lips. “And I miss you.”
“I can’t get in that truck with you.” The words burst from Tick’s mouth in a harsh growl. He snatched up his phone.
“I get it.” Colt lifted his glass, gripping it so tight his knuckles hurt. He was surprised the glass didn’t shatter under the pressure. He sure felt like he was breaking apart. “Sometimes I can’t be in the truck with me.”
“Yeah.” Scowling, Tick slapped the device on the table. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this, Colt?”
Biting the inside of his cheek, Colt shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Even he heard the hushed resignation in his voice, but he had no answers. He’d never had any, not for a long damn time.
Tick grabbed his phone and pushed his chair back. But the cotillion manners were strong, and he tucked his chair under the table before he strode to the exit.
With that unreasonable anger stirring under his sternum, Colt didn’t look after him. He’d tried apologizing, making things right, the same as he did that night, with the same result. They were done.
For good.