Chapter 53
FIFTY-THREE
MADDOX
When June starts, I finally start to feel like I’ve got my feet under me again.
I go to town for groceries and grunt through people’s questions, spend a bit more time working to avoid Mama’s nitpicking, and pawn the bar off on Jamie for now.
He hires someone to run it and says they’re doing a decent job, but I haven’t stepped foot in the place.
Like he has some sort of radar that tells him when I get something off my plate and have a spare spot for some extra bullshit, Colt shows up on my doorstep. I’ve barely cracked it open to ask him why he’s here when he’s pushing his way inside.
I’m immediately swallowing my frustration when my eyes rake over him in the light of my living room.
He’s not wearing one of his quirky trucker hats, probably because he keeps gripping his hair like he’s going to pull it out, and he’s got two or three days’ worth of stubble on his cheeks.
It’s paired with pale skin, glassy eyes and darkness beneath them, like he’s still having trouble sleeping.
“Colt, what’s the matter?” I ask him, nervous. My cabin’s the last place in the world Colton would choose to come when he’s on the edge of what appears to be a breakdown. A million things run through my mind, but the dopey grin on his face derails them.
“I’m gonna be a dad, Maddie.”
I’m shocked silent. My mind whirls as the next eighteen years of Colt’s life play out before me.
“Maddie?” he asks quietly, and it hits me that he hasn’t called me that in years. It pulls my attention back to his face. The same terrified joy as before greets me.
I clear my throat, trying to figure out what question to ask first. “Does Mama know?”
“No,” he says quickly, grin widening. “I’ll tell her next, I just… Can I come home?”
“What?” His face falls a bit and I feel like shit. “Sorry, I didn’t mean… Of course you can come home, Colt. I just don’t understand why you’re asking me.”
“Oh, sorry, I got ahead of myself,” Colt says, raking a hand over his face. It doesn’t wipe away the smile. I gesture to the couch and he takes a seat. “I meant to ask if I could come home to stay. To work. Permanently.”
“To work? What about the rodeo?”
Colt nods, smile dipping as he looks down at his callused and rope-burned hands. His first love is the rodeo and it always has been. He waited all year for us to get to go when we were kids, counting down the days. You practically had to drag him away.
“Figure a kid needs their daddy to have a less risky job, don’t you?”
The breath leaves my lungs in a quiet huff and I plop down beside him on the couch.
My hand finds the back of his neck easily and even though his head’s still dipped, I see his lips curve again.
Damn kid seems fucking stoked. He looks up at me, eyes glassy again, and I know it’s not because he’s leaving the rodeo behind—though I figure that’ll hit him later.
“Yeah?”
He nods again. “Yeah, Maddie,” he says, voice breaking.
As much animosity as Colton and I have had between us the past several years, I can’t take one of my siblings crying, even if it’s out of happiness. I use my grip on his neck to pull him in for a hug, shoving his head against my shoulder and feeling his shake.
“When’s she due?” I ask him and then a few more important questions occur to me. “Is she your girl or was it a one-time thing? Where’s she living?”
Colt pulls away, flopping back against the back of the couch.
“Middle of November,” he starts and Jesus fuck, that feels soon.
He cuts his eyes over to me like he expects me to make a remark, but I just put my hands up.
Clearly this woman not telling him until she was already several months into the pregnancy is a bit of a sore spot for him.
“She’s my girl,” he confirms, grinning at the ceiling again. I swallow down my jealousy. “As far as living, that’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about. I know ya’ll are just starting tourist season, but is there an extra cabin on the property we could have?”
My brows raise. For one, Colt knows exactly what buildings are on this property. He may be on the road for most of the year, but he spends a couple months out of it here. I also just can’t believe he’s asking to move his girl onto the ranch.
“I can’t have my kid’s mama living in some city thousands of miles away from me, Maddie,” he says, sitting up.
Even at twenty-six years old, he has these ridiculous puppy dog eyes that let him get away with everything.
Most of the time, he doesn’t even purposefully pull them out, they’re just always there, ready for him to use as needed.
I huff and lean back against the couch, tossing my arm over my eyes. “Guest Relations is Jameson’s business so he’s the one you’ll have to convince. Otherwise, the two of you are gonna have to move into the Big House until the season’s over.”
He sighs and I know he hates the idea of living at the Big House just as much as Jameson or I would, but it’s not like it would be permanent. When I lift my arm off my face to peek at him, he nods reluctantly, agreeing.
“As far as working on the ranch, of course you’re always welcome, but it’s going to take some shifting around.
Bailey’s double-booked with duties, but I don’t think you want either of those.
Maybe Tate could take on one of those duties and you could take on trail rides?
” I think aloud. Tate hates trail rides, but that’s not really a full-time job. He’ll need more to do.
“Maddox, I’ll be a goddamn ranch hand if you need me to be, I don’t care.”
That shocks me. I always figured Colt was allergic to early mornings and hard work. “Ranch hands start work at five.”
He nods. “I know.”
“They do the grunt work.”
“I know.”
I try to think of another argument, but he cuts me off before I can. “I just want to be a good man for my kid and her mama. I’ll do whatever you need me to do if it means I’ve got a job, we’ve got a roof over our heads, and my little girl has a safe place to run around.”
I can’t help but stare at him. Just a month ago, Colt was trying to start fights and acting like commitment was contagious. I couldn’t wait to meet the woman who’d somehow set his head straight through his dick.
“Little girl, huh?” I ask instead.
Colt grins again, leaning over on one side to tug his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out a black and white photo I’ve seen a thousand renditions of throughout the past thirty-two years. He passes it to me like it should mean as much to me as it does to him.
It probably should. There’s probably something wrong with me. But the only care I have for this picture is that it’s directly tied to Colt’s happiness, nothing else. Still, I smile at him and clap him on the back, shaking him a bit, good-naturedly.
“Proud of you, brother,” I tell him. I just hope this sudden change in attitude is here to stay.
“Thanks, Maddie.”