Chapter Twenty-Five
That’s What We Are
Colton
The rest of the night, I did my best to let go .
Let go of the gnawing feeling that Indi has an ugly side of her past that she’s hiding. Let go of my fears over Milo’s future; dancing with him until he couldn’t dance any longer. Let go of proper wedding etiquette when we, the Del Rays and the Bryants, traipsed down to the beach in our wedding attire.
Let go of the fear that has kept me from good and truly committing to Cheyenne for too many years.
I can’t do that without showing her how badly I want her in my life. Not as a friend, not even as my best friend, but as the woman I will love for the rest of my days. I need to prove I can be the man who doesn’t run when life hurts but rides it out even when he’s scared.
I have to take a risk that will alter my life irrevocably.
I let myself out onto the back deck of the lake house after Milo and the girls are in bed. My skin is still cool from the night swim, and my damp hair chills me as I hold my phone to my ear. My elbows rest on the railing, and my heart thuds loudly against my ribcage.
Travis answers on the second ring. “Please, for the love of all things good and holy, do not tell me you threw it all away by getting trashed at your brother’s wedding.”
“No.” In fact, I’m more sober than I’ve ever been, not just in relation to alcohol. “Far from it.”
“Oh no.” Even across the phone line and thousands of miles between here and California, I sense his apprehension. “Colton, it’s, what? Eleven your time?”
“Just past, yes.”
“Then you shouldn’t make any deci—”
“I’m done, Trav.”
On his end of the call, I hear city traffic and Meredith asking him who it is. Here, cicadas sing in the backyard and music drifts in from downtown on a southern breeze. I vaguely register the click of the sliding door behind me, but I don’t turn.
Heaviness lifts from my shoulders, letting relief trickle through my tired body. I’m tired from the day, certainly, but I’ve been fighting a much greater tiredness for a long time now. One that sinks well below the surface.
My body is tired of being relentlessly pushed and prodded and thrown from the backs of beasts. My mind is tired of the games that come with being a professional athlete, the constant ups and downs of winning and losing. My soul is tired of jumping from woman to woman and place to place, never having a safe haven to land in.
“Colton,” Travis says slowly, drawing my name out. “I don’t wear hearing aids because I’m only forty, but I think I might need them.”
“I second that statement,” Meredith hollers from somewhere in the background.
“You don’t need hearing aids,” I tell him.
“Colt—”
“That is the fourth time you’ve said my name in the span of two minutes. I think we’ve established who I am.”
Travis makes a strangled sound. “No, we haven’t. The Colton I know is a two-time world champion bull rider who is on a hiatus. Not…” His voice drops to a disbelieving whisper. “Not quitting.”
“Not quitting,” I agree. “Retiring.”
“You can’t—”
“I can,” I say firmly, “and I did. We’ll talk soon.”
I hang up before he can launch into a chastising spiel—one that would end with asking me to ride in Fort Worth next weekend. I do mean it; I’ll talk to him when I have more to say. Travis has been with me for the better part of my career, since the day he took a chance on that misfit teenage boy, and I’ll do right by him.
But I also have to do right by Cheyenne and Milo.
By myself.
I stare at the abyss of dark water, phone still in hand. Its screen illuminates the inky night, and my thumb rests a millimeter from the power button. I’m frozen, though, so I don’t press it. I don’t brush at the tear that crests my eye, or the one that rolls down to my chin. I feel everything and I feel nothing.
Arms circle me from behind. Cheyenne rests her cheek sideways on my back, her palms pressing into the cotton of my t-shirt, into my abdomen. I’m vaguely aware that I should be the one holding her, but for the moment, I’m selfish. I take the comfort she offers, and I hold onto it for dear life. I inhale deeply; lavender perfume and sticky July heat and honey-vanilla periwinkle hydrangeas.
“I’m proud of you, Collie,” she whispers, and she kisses my back.
“I’m scared,” I tell her.
Cheyenne slips between the railing and my body. Her palms find my jaw, and she looks up at me with tears in her shimmering eyes.
“Me too,” she admits. “Does it feel right?”
I nod without hesitation.
And then I kiss her. My hands pull her warm body into mine and my mouth claims hers fervently. Cheyenne moans in the back of her throat and my chest rumbles with relief. I pause only long enough to toss my phone on the wicker sofa before I’m kissing her again.
Her fingers press against my neck, urging me closer, and her bare knee bumps mine as she lifts onto her tiptoes. Everything about her is soft—her skin beneath my fingertips, her curves against my hard ridges, her lips beneath mine—but it’s also urgent. We’ve kissed before, and I’d like to think I have her memorized. I don’t. Those kisses weren’t this .
Then , we knew it was going to fizzle, that it wouldn’t last longer than a fleeting summer storm.
Now , with desperation, this kiss says we’re going to last.
The difference is stark and electrifying and passionate.
Cheyenne whimpers when I kiss a line across her jaw. Her breath heats my skin, every nerve in my body on high alert to her. The sounds she makes, the taste of her, the feel of her body against mine.
“I love you,” I say. My mouth brushes the tender skin below her ear.
Cheyenne grabs my face, and for a split second, I freeze. But when I see the smile on her face and the fearlessness dancing in her eyes, that heat kindles hotter than it ever has, pooling heavy within me.
“What did you just say?” she demands, though it can hardly be called that. Not when her mouth is swollen from my kiss and her flush rivals the deepest red roses.
“I said,” I murmur, kissing her collarbone, “that I love you.”
“What was that? I couldn’t—”
Growling, I kiss her more fully, if only to silence her smart retorts. She lifts on her toes, her desire matching my own. Her mouth tastes of wedding cake and spearmint toothpaste, her skin of lake water and humid summer air.
Seconds blur into minutes, our mouths dancing between bruising urgency and tender caresses. The heat of the night can hardly compete with the heat between us. Her hands pressed into my lower back and my chest heaving against hers. Cheyenne pulls my head down and places her mouth near my ear.
“I’ve never stopped loving you, Colton Del Ray,” she murmurs.
I take those words and I let them penetrate my soul. I tuck her in my arms, our elevated heartbeats thundering shamelessly. My hand wanders under her loose t-shirt, pressing flat into the flushed skin of her lower back, and I press my lips to the top of her head.
Wordlessly, she shifts until our arms align, her right and my left. I trace the connecting freckles with my gaze while she draws it with her fingertip.
“That’s what we are,” she begins, borrowing my words from years and years ago.
“Infinity,” I finish.
“ Infinity ,” she confirms.
TEXTS BETWEEN TRAVIS & COLTON:
Travis: Colton you cannot be serious!
Travis: At least think it through!!
Travis: Don’t ignore me. You’re contractually obligated to listen to me. I am your manager!
Travis: You didn’t think it through did you?
Colton: I thought it through more than I’ve ever thought anything through, and I meant it when I said we’ll talk soon.
Travis: You never use punctuation!
Colton: Consider the 2.0 version of myself to be more grammatically inclined.
Travis: I don’t want a grammatically inclined version of you! I want my client back.
Colton: You won’t get him back because he is no longer. Give me a few days and we’ll talk.