Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“I saved us a table.” Colt knew she’d reserved that table days ago, once she’d known Lamar was flying in from Texas for the event. Arm tucked through Colt’s, Holly reached out her free hand to pat Tick’s jaw. “Which saves you from sitting with your mama.”
“I dropped my bag there.” Lorraine curved into David’s side.
Tick’s brows dipped into a frown. “The ER staff doesn’t have a table?”
“They do.” On a harrumph, Lorraine exchanged a pointed glance with Holly. She smoothed the bangs of her short bob to one side. A silver snowflake glittered on one perfect purple nail. “I’m not sitting there with that—”
“Baby.” David squeezed her hip, his tone a blend of soothing and warning.
“Mackey won’t if he has any sense.” Lorraine ended the pronouncement with a huff.
Amused confusion kept Tick’s brows knitted together. “What are you fussing—”
“I’ll fill you in.” With a sharp glance at Colt, David planted a palm between Tick’s shoulders and steered him toward the doors. “Let’s get everyone started with a drink.”
Frowning, Colt watched them go. That was weird as hell.
“Colt.” With another pointed look at Lorraine, Holly turned him toward the porch steps.
All right, the whole night had turned weird, what with Tick reaching out to shake his hand first, Holly and Lorraine being on edge, and David separating Lamar from the rest of them.
“Let’s find Mama and speak before everybody sits down. ”
Resting his hand at the small of her back, Colt lowered his head. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Not really, no.” She flicked a glance at him as they ascended the steps. She wobbled a little on the final one, gripping his arm hard through his blazer to steady herself. He flattened his hand, providing a hit of stability. All they needed was a trip to the ER tonight. “But, yes.”
Large gas patio heaters created a bubble of warmth on the porch, so the wide area was as packed as the main interior room, the rolling doors thrown wide to allow people to move back and forth.
Jazzy holiday music blended with laughter and greetings, and he cast a quick glance around for their mamas, determined to find out what was going on before they got waylaid.
“Holly–”
His gaze skittered over a blonde seated at the table in front of his mama’s, a familiar face he’d never wanted to see again.
Shit, what was she even doing here?
The music and chatter faded into a sick buzz, his skin clammy under his shirt.
He was never getting away from his past, what he’d done, what he’d been.
Right this second, watching her smile and laugh at her table, watching her watch Lamar walk to the bar when he wasn’t even aware of her presence, Colt kinda wanted to die.
Not like he had on his worst days, like the morning after when he’d heard about Will and known he couldn’t even look Tick in the eye or like the other morning after when Grandaddy had shown up to bail him out and made Colt look him in the eye.
He’d really wanted to die then, had even thought about how he might make that happen.
No, this was more the desire to sink into the floor, hell, under the floor, and escape what this night would be rather than the desire to stop his existence cold . . . so, he kinda wanted to run.
It wouldn’t work because a guy couldn’t outrun his own thoughts, but he sure as hell wanted to.
The one thing he didn’t want to do was look at Holly right now.
Or Tick, so make that two things he didn’t want to do right now.
And he couldn’t even have a drink when there was a freaking open bar.
“I’m sorry. I thought I’d get a chance to tell you before you saw her.” Holly clutched at his arm, a hint of desperation in her touch. “I didn’t want you to be surprised.”
“Yeah, I get it.” He fixed his attention above her head, on that one cracked brick on the opposite wall. “Thanks.”
“Colton.” Her firm tone brooked no argument, the same attitude she assumed when trying to make Polo – or Ralph – behave. “Are you going to look at me?”
He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Nope.”
“Colt.” She nudged his arm, hard, and mouth tight, he jerked a glare at her. Eyes narrowed, she matched him stare for stare. “We are not giving her this much power.”
“We.” A harsh laugh, short and ugly, scraped free of his tight throat.
She held her left hand before his face, diamond sparking under the artificial lights. “We.”
Damn it, how was he supposed to argue that? They’d agreed to share their lives, the good and the ugly. Only, he didn’t want her exposed to the ugly, and with her here — well, ugly was inevitable. Jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached, he scuffed a hand over his nape.
“She doesn’t get to do this, Colt.” Although her eyes glittered with a wet sheen, Holly’s low voice rang with determination. “She doesn’t get to ruin tonight just by being here. She doesn’t get to ruin anything for you, ever again.”
He sank his teeth into the inside of his bottom lip, trying to block out the panic and pain screaming through him. Logic whispered Holly was right – years had passed and she represented one bad decision out of his whole life. Lamar was here, though, and–
He wasn’t doing this to himself anymore. He’d sworn that to himself.
The deep breath he managed to get into his lungs shook, but he expelled it in a slow, easy flow. “Okay.”
The tight lines by her mouth melted into a tremulous smile, and she rubbed her palm over his arm. “Okay.”
Another slow inhale and exhale centered him further. He jerked his chin toward the interior room. “Let’s go speak to our mamas.”
Luckily, Mona and Aunt Lenora sat with his parents.
He felt her gaze land on him and ignored it, focusing his attention on Holly’s hand on his arm, her fingers caressing through his jacket and shirt.
Mama’s eyes lit at the sight of them together, lightening the pressure in his chest. He loved seeing her happy almost as much as he loved that same emotion on Holly.
“Hey, Mama.” He leaned down to engulf her in a hug and kiss her cheek, his throat aching when D rose to slap his back and pull him into a snug embrace. Geez, his parents weren’t perfect, but once he was someone’s daddy, he had a lot to live up to where D was concerned.
They lingered a minute, swapping hugs and handshakes at the table and letting their mamas snap photos.
Lord, it was worse than his first high school dance, when he’d been a relatively new driver, seriously gawky after a growth spurt, and Sue had been beside herself because he had his first date.
Holly knew it, too, smirking at him as they walked away, threading their way between the tables.
Able to breathe because her table was behind him, he restrained himself from popping Holly’s ass in retaliation for that know-it-all smile.
Two empty chairs waited for them, and of course, the pair of seats butted up to Tick and his wife on one side.
That was fine – David and Lorraine sat opposite them and Trace and Sara Davis to one side of the empty chairs.
Colt held the chair beside Tick for Holly because damn if he’d sit next to him, then took the spot next to Sara, reaching behind her to shake Trace’s hand, grateful to see them.
Colt had almost zilch in common with him – Trace taught history out at the high school, he and Sara had a little girl about the age of Tick’s daughter – but they could talk sports or something.
Anything. He’d take anything right now, with Lamar to his right and her behind him . . . because he could tell himself all night long he wasn’t doing this to himself any longer, but damn, this was hard.
Holly knew it, too, one steady hand curved around his knee in warm comfort.
As much as he could, he shrugged off the uneasy discomfort, talked basketball with Trace, listened to Sara and Lorraine and Caitlin talk about their children and with Holly about their wedding plans, tuned out David and Tick’s own basketball conversation.
He even managed a few bites of Mrs. Rhonda’s marinated steak and roasted vegetables, turning down dessert, although any other time he’d kill for that apple tart and cinnamon ice cream of hers.
He laid his napkin beside his plate, an arm slung over the back of Holly’s chair.
Idly rubbing a thumb against the softness of her sweater, he watched Mrs. Louella Hatcher drag Mr. Lewis Hatcher onto the small area left as a dance floor.
A smile quirked at his lips – Mrs. Louella completely ignored Mr. Lewis’s crotchety frown, a blissful smile on her face.
“You should dance with me, precious.” From the corner of his eye, he caught Tick’s movement, sliding his chair back to offer a hand to Caitlin.
Holly spooned up a bite of cinnamon ice cream, watching them take the floor. A hint of wistfulness twisted her expression. “She makes those shoes look easy.”
Colt shot a glance over his shoulder. She did, walking and dancing a lot like Gracie, like maybe she’d had years of dance lessons.
She and Lamar had that graceful fit to them, moving with the smooth flow of an established couple.
Colt shut down the old sense of loss, easing his chair back as Holly scraped up a final morsel of tart drenched in melted ice cream.
“Are we dancing with or without your shoes?”
A cheeky grin brightened her face, chasing away the hint of insecurity. “How much do you value your toes?”
“I know you know how to dance.” He rose, offering a hand. “I remember cotillion.”
“Hmm.” She laid her palm in his and let him leverage her to her feet. “You’re taller now.”
He swallowed a sigh at the playful dig. She’d been a couple of inches ahead of him at the beginning of middle school, and he’d caught hell about it from the other boys in cotillion classes, all through sixth grade, until he’d had a growth spurt over the summer.
“You’re still mouthy.” Winding their fingers together, he urged her ahead of him as they wound through the tables.
“You like my mouth.”
He snorted, carefully whirling her into his arms and a traditional waltz, aware his job was to make her part of dancing effortless. “You better hush before Mona hears you. That whole still-a-virgin gig will be up.”
Other couples filtered onto the floor. She flexed her hand on his shoulder and leaned closer, her hair brushing his chin, her pleased sigh warming his throat. “You always were good at this.”
He hid a smile against the shining crown of her head. “Sue made me practice in the living room.”
Her soft laugh puffed across his skin. “Of course she did.”
Circling a caress at the base of her spine, he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “I could twirl you.”
“I’d rather not fall on my butt, Colton.”
“I’d keep you from falling.”
Her palm slid over his shoulder, almost to his nape. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.” He bussed her temple. “I’ll always take care of you.”
She jerked her head back, staring up at him with wide eyes, and he firmed up his hand on her spine, steadying her. She blinked, a sheen of tears brightening her blue gaze. “You can’t say things like that in public, with no warning.”
A light scoff tickled his throat. “How am I supposed to warn you?”
“I don’t know.” She lifted her hand from his shoulder in a twirl. “But I don’t know what to do with promises like that.”
“Well, yeah.” He gave a subtle jerk of his chin toward the table where Barlow sat deep in conversation with Talley Palmer and Virgil Holton, his partner or girlfriend or fiancee or whatever she was focused on her phone.
“Because you pinned your hopes on him, and he damn sure wasn’t making you any promises. ”
Lips set in a pout, she pushed at his shoulder. “That might be the most condescending thing you’ve ever said.”
“Might be the most truthful thing I’ve ever said.” He pinched her hip. “Rebut it. At least two pieces of cited evidence.”
“I . . .” She snapped her mouth shut, and he grinned.
“Yeah, I thought so.”
“You better be glad we slept together before we came tonight.”
A guffaw escaped his throat, and he reined it in, but not before he caught Tick’s quick glance in his direction. Colt lowered his head, mouth near her ear. “It would take me two seconds–”
“Colton.” Her stern voice did nothing to belie the shiver that moved over her under his hands. “Behave.”
He dropped a kiss just below the curve of her ear. “Until we get home.”
Her giggle bubbled against his jaw, and he grinned, feeling that sweet sound and the happiness she brought all the way through him.
Everything he worried about – Lamar, her being here, all of it – faded in the sheer joy of having her in his arms, waltzing to cheesy holiday jazz, knowing at the end of the night, she’d still be there, lighting up his shadows.