3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Colt returned the next day at ten a.m., right on time by his self-appointed schedule. His hands were clammy on the steering wheel as he pulled down the loose gravel driveway, the dilapidated shape of Lullaby Lane looming up ahead. The morning sun cast harsh shadows across the frost-flecked lawn where Sera stood engaged in conversation with a woman Colt presumed to be Kate. His stomach clenched at the sight of Sera’s tall frame, unable to shake that last look the man had given to him the day before.
God, he wanted to turn the car around and get the hell out of there. He didn’t want to do this. Not today. Not tomorrow. But their heads had already turned, eyes locking onto him.
Well. No escape now.
Swearing inwardly, Colt killed the engine and reluctantly emerged from the perceived safety of his car. The cold air prickled his skin, heavy with the scent of distant rain. Hands crammed into his jeans pockets, he shuffled his way toward them, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
“Colt!” Kate’s cheerful voice rang out, and she opened her arms to embrace him when he neared. “It’s great to finally see you in person. Have you met Sera?”
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged someone, but it’d been awhile, and he’d be lying if he said the gesture didn’t feel kind of nice despite the awkwardness. Colt gave her a gentle squeeze before pulling back, where his gaze flicked between Kate’s big doe eyes and Sera’s piercing green ones, unsure of what to say. Before he could manage a response—
“We’ve met,” Sera said, his tone clipped but polite.
Kate’s smile faltered for a moment, maybe picking up on the undercurrent of tension, but she pressed on. “Well, that’s good. We were just talking about the house. It’s quite a project, isn’t it?”
Colt nodded mutely, eyes darting to the peeling paint and sagging porch. Each imperfection felt like a personal failing, a testament to his absence in his father’s final years.
“Glenn certainly left behind quite a legacy,” Sera remarked, his gaze sweeping over the property. “It’s admirable you’re taking this on, Colt.”
The words should have been comforting, but after yesterday, Colt couldn’t shake the feeling they were laced with judgment. He mumbled a quiet, “Thanks,” as his gaze fixed on a dandelion pushing through a crack in the gravel.
“Glenn talked about you all the time,” Kate said softly, her tone gentle. “He was proud of you, you know.”
Colt’s mouth went dry. Yeah, Dad had told him as much. Not that he had any clue what there was to be proud of; he’d limped through a two year commercial illustration program that he still wasn’t putting to use and was stuck instead at a dead-end office job at an insurance firm.
“Did he?” he managed, trying to pull his mouth into a smile, unsure if he was coming even close to succeeding.
Sera’s expression actually seemed to soften. “He did. Glenn had his faults, but his love for you was evident.”
Colt nodded, unable to form words around the conflicting emotions of sadness and resentment.
He stood there, caught between the two, as Kate and Sera continued their talk about the house. Their voices washed over him, a backdrop to the turbulent thoughts swirling in his mind.
Yeah, maybe Dad had been proud of him for whatever reason. Even though Colt had fucked off and been absent the last several years. Colt couldn’t figure out if he blamed himself or not, but…
Had his dad blamed him?
It’d been a topic they’d avoided during their infrequent phonecalls. In the beginning, Dad had tried to keep hold of him. He called on birthdays, invited Colt home for holidays. After a few years of rebuffs…he stopped asking.
But Colt was there now, wasn’t he? Trying to make things right, even if it was too late. But as he stood in the shadow of his childhood home, surrounded by the ghosts of what could have been, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was still that small boy, desperate for approval and belonging, forever trapped in a corner of a cluttered room.
Kate turned to him suddenly, eyes lighting up. “Well, why don’t we head inside and start tackling some of this? I’ve got a few ideas that might help streamline the process.”
Colt’s knee-jerk reaction was to snap at her. No one in the house. The space had already been invaded once. The thought of anyone else crossing that threshold sent a cold chill down his spine as anxiety gripped the back of his neck. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. If he said something, it was going to come out all wrong. Cruel, where he wasn’t intending to be. Harsh, because he could never just converse like a normal goddamn person.
“Actually, Kate,” Sera interjected, “I think it might be best if Colt handles this part on his own for now. It’s a deeply personal process, after all.”
Kate’s brow furrowed slightly, but Sera continued, his tone gentle yet firm. “Maybe we could talk about some resources Colt could tap later, if he needs them?”
Colt didn’t know where that perceptiveness had come from—had Sera seen how uncomfortable he looked?—or why he’d felt inclined to throw Colt a lifeline after their heated exchange, but he shot the other man a grateful glance. Kate hesitated for a moment before nodding, her cheerful demeanor returning. “Of course, you’re right. Colt, just remember we’re here if you need anything, okay?”
After Kate left and her car disappeared past the barrier of overgrown trees and shrubbery that blocked the view of the street, Sera’s presence seemed to fill the space between them, making Colt acutely aware of his own body. He felt so small standing next to him, and it wasn’t just because Sera was so damned tall. It was more than that. The man’s mere existence felt bigger, commanded more attention.
“Thanks,” Colt mumbled, his eyes still fixed on the spot where Kate’s SUV had gone. “For, you know...”
Sera’s lips quirked into what might have been a smile. “I get it. Privacy’s important with things like this.”
“About yesterday—I was…out of line. You didn’t deserve any of that.”
“You were a bit of a bitch,” Sera agreed.
Despite the words, there was something in Sera’s tone, a warmth that hadn’t been there before, that made Colt look up. For a moment, Colt thought he saw a flicker of...something. Amusement? Sympathy? But it was gone so quickly, replaced by a neutral smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, it was impossible for Colt to tell if he’d imagined it.
“A bit of a bitch,” Colt agreed.
“Well.” Sera stretched his arms above his head. “I should let you go. Unless there’s anything you need?”
For all that Colt didn’t want a living soul to step foot inside the house, it didn’t mean there wasn’t a part of him desperate to not have to do this alone. But even thinking about letting Kate or Sera help made his chest twinge with panic. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks again.”
As Sera turned to leave, Colt’s gaze lingered on his retreating form, admiring the graceful way he moved. As quickly as the admiration popped into his head, he shoved it aside. Really not the time, Colt, what the fuck?
Yet he found his mouth moving before Sera could get too far.
“Hey!”
Sera turned, raising a brow. Colt swallowed hard around the uncertainty in his throat.
“… Why did Dad have you handling any of this?”
Something that looked a touch too close to pity for Colt’s liking flickered in Sera’s expression.
“Because he didn’t think you’d show up.”
The words hung in the air between them, heavy, laden with unspoken implications and Colt’s own shame. He didn’t know what to feel about that, let alone how to respond to it. A thousand questions stirred in the back of his head, and not a one of them likely had an answer he wanted to hear.
All he managed in the end was a curt nod.
Sera left. Colt trudged back to the house. The yard, surrounded by pines and redwoods and ferns, closed in around him much like the tightening of his chest. He stopped at the front door, gripping the knob but unable to bring himself to turn it just yet.
“He didn’t think you’d show up.”
Those words were going to bounce around his head for a nice long while.
Therapy fuel indeed.
***
Colt’s eyes watered and his sinuses protested as he sorted through yet another box of forgotten trinkets, the scent of decay clinging to his skin. The combination of dirt and dust had started to get to him, so today he’d lugged a few boxes out to the front porch to at least take advantage of the fresh air.
Colt heard the crunch of gravel behind him and his heart quickened, knowing who it would be. Still seated, he twisted around to see Sera leaning casually against the porch railing.
“Hey,” Sera called, his voice pleasant. “How’s it going in there?”
“Fine. Just...fine.” He stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Did you need something?”
Sera’s brow furrowed slightly. “No, I just thought I’d check in. You’ve been at this for hours.”
“I’m managing,” Colt replied, more curtly than he intended. He couldn’t bear to look at Sera for too long; the man’s face was damned distracting and kicked up a lot of conflicting emotions.
“Well, if you need anything...” Sera trailed off, straightening back up.
Colt nodded, already turning away. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”
As Sera’s footsteps faded, Colt exhaled shakily. Why did this have to be so difficult? It wasn’t just the house. It was Kate, trying so hard to go above and beyond her job to help for no reason other than she was a good, kind person. It was Sera, and the complex tangle of feelings Colt needed time to pick apart that had to do with his own guilt, fear, and resentment.
Sera himself hadn’t done anything wrong.
The fact he was attractive as hell was not helping matters.
Colt slipped back inside to grab a few more boxes. He paused at the staircase leading to the second floor. Another thing he’d been avoiding, but he couldn’t put it off forever.
With a deep breath, he placed his foot on the first step.
Each creak of the old wood sent his mind reeling back in time. He made it nearly at the top this time. Most of the doors up there stood open—they hadn’t been physically able to close in a long time, save for his dad’s old room at the end of the hall. That room had been entirely off-limits even to Colt.
Deep breath. Knuckles whitening on the bannister. He pressed forward, dragging himself to the bedroom door and easing inside.
He’d half-expected it to be spilling over with more stuff, but looking around, Colt frowned. Had his dad even stepped foot in here? Granted, it’d been seven years, but the place looked about the same as he remembered it. How many nights had he laid awake with little to stare at beyond boxes and bins and tubs, reading over the print on the cardboard ones until they played on loop in his head. U-Haul. Banker’s box. Amazon Prime. Fragile. Big, scuffed shipping labels and postage marks.
He’d loved his room as a kid. He and Dad had decorated an entire wall in bright paint when Colt was four, and within a year, it’d been covered up with squares of cheap department store wallpaper and, eventually, buried behind boxes. When Colt complained about the encroaching hoard, especially in his teenage years, Dad had apologized profusely, but it never changed anything.
This room had been his safe space once, a very long time ago.
“It didn’t last,” Colt whispered to himself, already retreating out of the room and back downstairs. “Nothing good ever does.”