11. Colt
“Come here, kiddo.” Lifting my arm, I tuck her into my side. “Cry it out.”
She immediately burrows her nose in my ribcage. I grew used to that years ago, same with bony elbows and knees accidentally digging into me.
Susanne isn’t that great with personal space.
“I hate it when you call me that. I’m chaos.”
My smile is solemn. “Don’t you feel like a kid today?”
Tears soak through my plaid shirt.
Guess that’s my answer.
Awkwardly, I press a kiss to the crown of her head.
“I don’t want to be here anymore,” she garbles around a sob.
I close my eyes. “I know you don’t. But you are here, and your mom wouldn’t want you to join her. Not yet. She’d want you to be happy and to live a long?—”
“Why? What’s the point of anything? Everyone always leaves. They die. They all die.”
The words cut too close to the bone.
I’ve felt that way many a time in my life, but that Susanne…
She’s a cheeky little thing but her heart is pure gold.
That she might want to end it…
I squeeze her tighter, as if the harder I hug, the more I can fight those thoughts and stop them from becoming definite actions.
“Why did she have to leave me, Colt?”
“I wish I had an answer for that, Susanne.” I tip my head against the stall door. “Your mom tried to do something good and it bit her in the ass.”
“I told Calder to keep his dumb dog in the house.” She swipes at her cheeks. “Mom went in to save him. One second she was there, and the next she wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry.” The words aren’t enough so I press another kiss to her temple.
“What am I going to do? Grand-mère hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“She does! She’s so mean to me. Even Walker said she is and Grand-mère treats him like Jesus has come back.”
A huff of laughter escapes me. “I don’t know my scripture as well as I should, but I don’t think it’s a good thing if He visits.”
She hitches a bony shoulder. “I miss Mom. Already. She only just?—”
When her words break down into sobs, a dust mote dances in the air. I track it as, woodenly, I rasp, “Of course you do.”
“How am I supposed to live without her?”
“You…” I think about Uncle Clay. “You take it one day at a time.”
“Will you come to the funeral?”
“You know I can’t.”
Susanne pulls away from me, drawing her knees to her chest and burrowing her face in them.
God, I hate it when she cries.
Over the years, I’ve grown used to her quirks and have adapted myself to her sense of humor, which is pretty dark when it comes to her diabetes. For a kid, anyway. Seeing her cry hurts something in my goddamn soul.
“I’ll sneak in at the end of the line,” I mutter, aware that if I get caught, Dad will rain hell on me for ‘fraternizing’ with the McAllisters.
Still, it’ll only be words, not fists anymore. He stopped with that when I fought back.
Her head pops up. “You will?”
I nod. “Have you been keeping a check on your blood sugar?”
Her lips purse in mutiny.
“Susanne!” I chide. “You have to monitor it.”
“I am.” Her tone is beyond snooty.
“Regularly?” It kills me to say this but… “Your mom isn’t around anymore to do it for you. You have to grow up when it comes to this stuff.”
Her throat bobs.
But she stays quiet.
Goddammit.
“Promise me, Chaos. I don’t want to lose you too.”
She peers at me with wide eyes. “You don’t?”
“No. So, promise me.”
“I-I promise. Thank you for caring,” she whispers, nestling into me again like the teddy bear she isn’t.
“Of course, I care.”
In the ensuing silence, I stare at Loki as she withdraws her kit from the little pack she carries with her at all times. It isn’t the most hygienic place to do this, but at least she’s doing it period.
When she grunts, I can tell her level isn’t the greatest. Something that’s confirmed when she opens a wrapper and starts snacking.
In comparison to us, Loki doesn’t have a care in the world, yet he’s staring at us as if he understands.
I wish he did.
“Do you think he knows how much we love him?”
A sigh drifts from my lips as I hold her close, smiling when she offers me a peanut butter cracker. “If any horse could, I think it’d be him.”