28. Zee
We Didn’t Start The Fire - Fall Out Boy
“You finished?”
Turning my head so I can see Callan in the doorway, I nod. “Gimme five.”
“Sure thing.”
He steps into my bedroom, meandering over to the window where he looks onto the ranch.
In the time I’ve been here, I’ve grown used to Callan hanging out with me. Not only do I not mind because I’m used to Tee hovering while I work, but I like the kid.
Sure, his candor is borderline offensive, but he’s kind. And he always seems to know when I’m having a bad day.
It’s uncanny.
Today, however, it appears that he’s the one in a mood.
Once I’ve finished the email I was working on—a deep dive into a complaint against the strip club in West Orange that the Satan’s Sinners own—I twist in my chair and stretch a kink in my spine.
“You look pensive.”
“I heard your alert earlier,” he comments.
“Sorry. I know it’s annoying. Tee set it to a crying baby because she knows that’ll make me react fastest.”
“I know Colt has apps on his phone that monitor your blood sugar. Can I be included on the account?”
“You don’t need to?—”
“I’ll feel better.”
“The alerts can sound in the early hours,” I protest.
“It’ll make me feel better,” he asserts.
“Colt and Tee are on the account.”
“I’d still appreciate being included.”
“The weight of the world isn’t yours to bear, Callan.”
His gaze is measured and so like his brother’s that I have to shake my head. Whichever girl hooks this one is in for a ride.
“Fine,” I mumble as I add him to the apps.
“Colt says Father is staying in Vancouver,” he rasps—ah, the reason for his mood. “Clyde could bounce around Canada for a while, thinking that time will make Colt change his mind. Then, he’ll come back.”
Ah, the mega-rich—they seriously live in a different stratosphere.
“And the prospect bothers you?” I ask, joining him at the window.
In the distance, I see Colt standing by a pasture, the fence propping him up as he watches two guys inside the corral. There’s one on a gorgeous pinto Mustang who’s figuring out how to use a lasso, another yelling instructions.
From a conversation I heard at breakfast, I know they’re in the middle of dozens of job interviews to cover the severe staff shortages afflicting both ranches.
Even from over here, I can tell this guy’s not about to be hired.
“I don’t want him to come back here. Ever.”
“I’ve never been to Vancouver,” I muse out loud because I don’t blame him for never wanting to see his father again.
“Ask Colt. He’ll take you. You should go on a honeymoon.”
“Why would we do that?”
“Duh. Because you’re married. That’s what married people do.”
This matchmaking schtick of his is new. Especially as he knows the ins and outs of the contract that binds Colt and me together—I learned that over a game of Titanfall.
Narrowing my eyes, I ask him a question that’s a mirror of the one he asked me the day I moved in: “You want to get rid of me or something, Callan?”
“Huh?”
I poke him with my finger. “You want me to seduce your brother so I can become pregnant sooner and we can divorce?”
He gapes at me. “Why would you divorce when you’re having a baby together?”
Okay, so that’s not his goal, then.
“What’s with the matchmaking?”
“Colt deserves to be happy,” is his immediate retort. “What the hell were you talking about?”
Turning away from him, I stare at the yard.
Naturally, my gaze goes where it shouldn’t.
Him.
Always freakin’ him.
It’s pissing me off how I can always find him out there. Whenever I stand up from my desk, I manage to see him somewhere. He’s like Where’s Waldo?
Now that we’re married, he owns the largest ranch in North America. Four-hundred thousand acres are his to roam, and yet, whenever I look outside, he’s goddamn there.
“Zee!”
“What?”
He grabs my arm. “You can’t leave when you have his baby.”
“Part of the contract was that he wanted an heir.”
“Don’t make it seem like he was behind the verbiage. My father wrote it. As did your grandmother. Don’t tar Colt with the same brush, not when you signed identical agreements.”
That has me squirming.
I hate it when he’s right.
Which he is.
A lot.
“But I don’t understand. What’s this about leaving when you have his child?”
Ah—did he only read the initial contract and not the amended one?
It’d make sense that Colt would keep that on the DL, considering what I know of Callan’s childhood.
Shit, why didn’t I think of that before I opened my mouth?
“Do you know how hard it was for me to sign that damn thing?”
“As hard as it was for him!” he growls. “Do you know what Colt’s life’s been like? Do you? The one thing he deserved was to have a choice about who he’d spend the rest of his days with, but Pops, I mean, Father can’t even give him that!
“Do you know he practically raised me? He had four years of independence when he went to Saskatoon. Four years out of thirty-two of blood, sweat, and tears, Zee. And do you know how he spent most of those four years?” He barks out a laugh. “Studying his ass off. No parties for Colt. No fun. That wasn’t allowed. He had to get back here, you see. To us. Because Cody was only sixteen when Mum left and he knew what Pops would do when he wasn’t around.
“He drove up every weekend. It’s the only reason he studied in Saskatoon. My brother might not have my IQ, but he has the brains to be a Harvard alumnus. Instead, he went to a tiny university in an off-the-wall city in Canada so that he could drive home as often as he was able.
“You think Father’s a dick now? That’s nothing to what he was like when he was drinking. Mum left us with him and as much as that hurt, Zee, to be left with a monster, we all knew what would have happened if she’d stayed.”
He’s breathing heavily by this point, and my voice is soft as I inquire, “What would have happened, Callan?”
“He’d have killed her. She’d have been a statistic. And knowing Colt’s luck, he’d have been the one to find her.
“Father didn’t want us. He doesn’t like us. But he made sure that he gained custody to hurt her. Just because he could.” His nostrils flare. “Ever since, Colt’s been like both my parents. So bet your damn ass I want him to be happy and I don’t want him to have to raise another kid on his own when you two are freakin’ perfect for one another!”
What?! “Perfect for one another?”
“Yes! And neither of you see it! I’m surrounded by idiots!” he snarls, then he stuns the hell out of me—his hand pounds into the wall.
Once.
Twice.
I grab his shoulder when the drywall gains a crevice I’ll have to cover with a picture frame. “Callan, you will stop that right this second.”
He twists around to glower at me, but his fist immediately drops. “I’m so tired of idiots,” he screams, then he shoves his back into the wall he damaged and he slides to the floor, hands shifting to cover his face.
The bloodied knuckles of one are like an exclamation mark as I study him, uncertain what to do next.
He’s not crying as far as I can tell because he’s digging the butts of his palms into his eyes.
I crouch beside him. “Callan, you have to understand that when I signed the agreement, I had no way of knowing if Colt was like your father or not.
“Grand-mère didn’t provide me with a character reference. She gave me very few options,” I tack on bitterly. “But if, when I get pregnant and we divorce, I won’t leave my baby behind. I-I’m not your mom.”
My words have him gradually moving his hands from his face.
“You swear?”
“I swear. I-I never thought I’d have kids like this but…” I hitch a shoulder. “Colt’s a good man. There’s no reason we couldn’t make shared custody work.”
“If you know he’s a good man, then why don’t you want to be with him?”
Frustrated, I surge to my feet.
A part of me wants to slam my fist into the wall too, goddammit, but I don’t.
I’m the adult here, after all.
Scoffing at the notion, I return to the window where, of course, I find the man of the hour.
Why does he always seem as if he’s brooding?
He’s standing there, leaning on a damn newel post. But he looks like Emily Bront?’s Heathcliff—a long-suffering hero who needs a hug.
And maybe a blowjob.
My cheeks flush at the thought.
Since Tee found out about that kiss, I’ve been hyperaware of all things him. Honestly, she’s part of the reason I’ve been avoiding Colton. According to her, we’re a hop, skip, and a jump away from sex. The body might be willing, but the mind isn’t.
So I have trust issues—could anyone blame me?
“Why don’t you want to be with my brother?”
“Because he’s a stranger,” I sputter.
“And? People fall in love with strangers all the time.”
“It’s barely been a month, Callan!” I stomp my foot because he’s exasperating the living shit out of me, but before I can lay into him about consent and choices and free freaking will, I happen to see Colt straighten up.
At first, I think it’s because he’s radar and he heard my ever-so-loud stomp.
But it isn’t me.
Of course, it isn’t.
His gaze locks on something in the distance, though. I know because his scowl is like thunder. It practically booms into being around him.
Curious, I peer in that direction. Whatever took the man from brooding to outright furious does more than prick at my inquisitive nature.
That’s when I see what turned my stoic husband into a wrathful alpha.
As much as the ranch hand disgusts me with how he’s whipping his horse, it’s the way Colt lopes over there, moving behind the rider and the bucking Camargue that draws my attention. With one hand settling gently on the gelding’s hind, he snags the bastard by the back of his jacket and drags him off the saddle.
God, if I wasn’t already tied up in knots for the not-so-strange stranger I’m married to, I am now.
Gravity has the guy plunking on the ground. Colt’s quick to tap the horse’s rear. The creature tosses his head before he gallops off.
Even with the distance, I can see the red stripe where the bastard managed to break skin. But at least the gelding’s out of harm’s way.
Colt grabs the ranch hand by his collar, hauling him up with it.
The punch he doles out to the bastard has me biting my lip. It shouldn’t be hot but this punishment is deserved and my inner Neanderthal appreciates the primal display.
The thought almost has me face-palming.
I’m cringing at my brain which Tee has corrupted.
“Colt can’t stand it when they mistreat the horses,” Callan mumbles, making me jump because I didn’t realize he’d joined me at the window. Still, he’s a welcome distraction from my embarrassing inner monologue. “You don’t have to be scared?—”
I need to nip that in the bud. “I’m not.”
Ten years might be missing from my ‘Colt’ encyclopedia, but I know him well regardless.
“It’s the only time he gets mad,” he assures me, though I don’t need the reassurance. “Grantley’s on his last warning too.”
“Grantley?”
“Marvin Grantley. He’s a piece of work.” Callan hisses as blood explodes from the guy’s nose in an impressive arc when Colt’s fist collides with it. That’s when he drops Grantley like a sack of potatoes.
Even from this distance, I can sense the control it takes for Colt to leave Grantley alone.
But he does.
That’s freaking hotter.
I’m not going to loop Tee in on today’s development. She’ll be asking for a play-by-play, and that’s not only dangerous for her imagination but for mine too.
Hugging my arms to my chest, I cup my elbows. “Why was he on his last warning?”
“He’s usually late. Aggressive with the animals. Things like that.”
“I’m surprised you’re in the know about the particulars.”
He sniffs. “Just because I don’t go out on the property much doesn’t mean I don’t pull my weight in other ways.”
“I wasn’t accusing you. I didn’t think staff minutiae would interest you.”
His grunt is the only answer I get. Still, after that meltdown, it’s better than silence.
A couple ranch hands approach when Grantley staggers upright and takes a swing at Colt, but he sidesteps him, kicks his leg out, and down Grantley goes again.
Callan whistles when Colt, still seething with anger, turns his back on the asshole and strides over to another horse that’s been tethered to a nearby post. He jumps on saddleless and takes off in the direction the Camargue went, leaving his men to deal with Grantley.
If there’s one thing that’s my catnip, it’s that.
No saddle. Just pure command of the beast. And what command. He maneuvers the nineteen-hand Percheron X like he was born in that position.
Having been raised to ride as soon as I could walk, I know the feeling, though I’ll admit I haven’t jumped back on the saddle yet.
Neither have I gone home to the Bar 9 or frosted any sugar cookies.
My time here’s been strange.
The days have passed quickly. The hours drain fast when you call your best friend at three and don’t stop talking until nine. Then, there’s work to be done and video games to play with Callan.
I guess I’ve been hiding out here and I didn’t even realize it.
And Colt let me.
He hasn’t pushed me.
He’s left me alone to come to terms with my new reality.
Watching him ride off, I know part of that is because he’s a busy man. Taking over the Bar 9 as well as tutoring the triplets have cut further into his time. There are only so many hours in a day, after all.
But I can’t stop wondering if he’s put me in the same pigeonhole as that filly Callan mentioned the day I arrived…
Is Colton gentling me and I didn’t realize it?
If so, I can’t help but think that it might be working.