Chapter 42
Forty-Two
Colt
I sense movement out of the corner of my eye, but I’m not thinking straight enough to react before the hiss of air reaches my ears.
I push against the door I’d been swinging shut, stopping it from closing, and glance out through the opening—
To see Kylie straightening from my back tire, a pair of scissors in her hand.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I snap, getting out of the driver’s seat.
She shoves the scissors in her pocket and moves toward me, jabbing me in the chest with her finger. “First of all, don’t you dare take that tone with me.”
I rock back slightly, her tone cutting through the tornado of emotions and thoughts that have been twisting through my mind, gathering strength over the last hours until I’m trapped in the middle of the violent maelstrom, unable to think, barely able to see, hardly able to feel over the noise.
Except…she’s launching herself at me, wrapping her arms tightly around my middle.
“Second, I’m here,” she whispers. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
My mind is still in that storm, still barely functioning.
But her body against mine, her scent in my nose, those words in my ears, and the wind quiets a bit.
“I’m here,” she says again.
And it’s like the dam breaks.
Shuddering, I bend and bury my face in her hair, inhaling the scent of her. I wrap my arms around her waist and haul her against me. Soft curves, floral notes, gentle words stitching up the edges of the big, gaping wound inside me.
It’s still bleeding.
And I know it will take a long time to heal over—maybe it won’t ever completely go away.
But I’m not alone.
“She was raped,” I whisper, my eyes burning, and goddamn it, I feel like a fucking baby, but a tear slips out, soaking into the dark silk of her hair.
“I’m sorry that was done to her,” she whispers back. “You know how much I am. But that also has absolutely no bearing on the wonderful person you are.”
That flays me open and I clench my eyes closed—maybe if I can just shut them tightly enough it’ll stop the flow of tears.
Newsflash, it doesn’t fucking work.
But Kylie doesn’t make me feel like a pathetic, sniveling coward, doesn’t push me away, doesn’t tell me to stop crying. All she does is shift our positions, pulling my head onto her shoulder until I get myself together.
“Sorry,” I rasp what feels like an eternity later, drawing back and scrubbing my hands over my face. “I—”
She pulls them free, cups my cheeks, forces my eyes to hers. “Don’t you dare apologize.”
“I—”
But I can’t finish the sentence.
Because I don’t know how to finish the sentence.
I shouldn’t be crying. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t be hurt. I shouldn’t feel scared or devastated or completely untethered in a world I suddenly don’t know…
But I do feel all of those things.
“You’re allowed to have emotions. You’re allowed to be hurt.
I know what it’s like, at least part of what she went through, but she decided to bring you into this world, and you deserved more than the neglect and emotional abuse, the cold disdain”—I try to turn away but she forces my gaze to stay on hers—“You’re her baby, and if she couldn’t be a parent to you, she should have freed you to find that with another family, another mother. ”
Those words hit me hard, draw those stitches a little tighter.
Because she’s right.
“And don’t get me started on your father.
He’s checked out, letting her pull her shit, and all he can say is ‘Respect your mother?’ That’s bullshit and as pathetic as the scenes she seems to live to make.
” She traces her fingers over the cheek my mother slapped.
“It was abuse, all of it, and he didn’t step in when he should have—not today, not in the months I’ve known you, and clearly not while you were growing up. That’s just as evil.”
“Baby,” I begin.
Still hurting.
Still feeling raw inside.
But not bleeding out from internal injuries.
“I won’t let her do it again,” she growls. “I swear if she puts her hands on you again, I’ll…” Her eyes flash with fury. “I’ll show her the meaning of a slap. She’ll be the one with the red mark on her cheek and it won’t be small and—”
“God, I love you.”
“—I don’t care if she presses charges, don’t care if I go to jail—”
“Starfire.” I slide my hand up her back, into her hair.
“It will be worth it—”
“Teach, take a breath.”
“—because she needs a taste of her own medicine and Blake needs space so he can live his life. Oh,” she adds her face changing, softening. “He’s going to move in with us. He asked and I said it was okay.”
“Baby—”
“And I know it’s presumptuous to say us because we’re still new, but we’ve spent every night since Utah together—well, every night you’ve been in town, that is—and I don’t want that to change and—”
Fuck it.
I tilt back her head, press my lips to hers.
And I kiss her with all that I’m feeling—the pain and devastation, the love I have for this woman who’s never hurt me and would fight those who do. I kiss her with the need I always have when she’s near, the joy she brings to my life, the careful way she cradles my heart.
Not just taking.
But giving back so, so much.
“I’m okay,” I say when we break apart, lungs heaving.
“Colt—”
“Okay,” I repeat before she can go on another rant. “I’m hurt—of course I am. I…I don’t understand if she felt that way…why keep me?” I shake my head, sigh. “It’s a mess and I know I’m going to need help figuring this shit out, but…”
“What?” she asks when I don’t go on.
“But it’s almost a relief, I guess.”
Her eyes go wide.
“I finally know the truth of why she hates me, and I guess some part of me even understands it.” I sigh, smooth back her hair.
“So, yeah, I know healing from this isn’t going to be smooth sailing, but…
do I want Blake to live with us—yes, us?
Absolutely. Do I want you to move in with me?
Also, absolutely. Do I want to build a life where we’re happy, so damned happy I don’t think of what was missing from the woman who was supposed to love me? Yes, of course I do.”
She sniffs. “I want that too.”
“Good.” I smile. “Because I want babies with your eyes and to help you grade papers and decorate your classroom. I want to find a way to get Holly fired and see Adrian graduate from high school and kick ass in life. I want you, Teach, forever and always. Not just because you’re smart and beautiful and mine but because you see me and you love me, and you show me that. ”
“Colt,” she whispers, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes.
“I knew I wanted you from that first smile, knew I would find a way to make the shadows in your eyes disappear. I knew I had to make sure you were no longer scared when I was near. Because I knew I needed you in my life forever.” I kiss away her tears.
“But I didn’t know it could be like this, could be more, that you—only you, starfire—could make my pain go away.
Ever since I was a kid I had to find a way to just be okay, to bury the hurt, to put one foot in front of the other and move on. But you”—I cup her jaw—“you love me.”
“I do,” she says, her hand settling over my chest.
“And you don’t care if I’m not okay—” Frowning, she opens her mouth, but I gently place a finger over her lips, pausing her rebuttal of those words. “You love me—okay or not, happy or sad or indifferent, hockey player or teacher’s assistant or newly crowned reality TV buff.”
“I do,” she says again. “Because you’re that for me too.”
“I know.” I touch her cheek. “Because you taught me that’s what love should be.”
A soft smile. “You’re going to make me cry again.”
“That’s okay. I’ll hold you until you’re done then kiss your tears away all over again.”
She sniffs.
I tug her close, hold her tight.
“I just have one question,” she says long, long minutes later when we’ve finally managed to pull apart.
I take her hand, draw her back to the hospital, back to my brother, back to make arrangements that are going to change all of our lives…and do it for the better.
“What’s that?” I ask, as we reach the entrance.
Her smile seals the wound inside me a few more millimeters.
Her mischievous question a couple more.
“Who’s changing the tire?”