Chapter 30 Colt
Colt
Every muscle in my body aches like I've been stomped by a bull as I pull up to the clinic, exhaustion settling into my bones after a day that started very early and hasn't quit punishing me since.
Three ranch calls, two emergency surgeries, and a colicky horse that took four damn hours to stabilize. The kind of day that reminds me why I love this work and also why I need something soft and warm to come home to.
Lucy.
All I want right now is to wrap my arms around her, breathe in that vanilla scent that's become as necessary as whiskey after a hard day, and forget about everything except the way she melts against me.
Maybe we could grab takeout from Mabel's diner, head back to my apartment above the clinic, and spend the evening tangled together on my couch. Simple. Perfect.
That fantasy dies a quick death the moment I walk through the clinic door and see Gabriel standing there in full uniform, all authority and barely contained possession as he looks at Lucy like she's already his for the taking.
"Ready to go home?" he's asking, and something in his tone makes my jaw clench hard enough to crack teeth.
Home. Like it's a given that Lucy belongs at his place, in his bed, in his life without question or discussion.
"Actually," I hear myself saying, my voice coming out rougher than I intended, "I was thinking Lucy might want to stay here tonight."
Gabriel's blue eyes flick to mine, and I can see the challenge there. The reminder that he's been the one taking care of her, the one she's been staying with, the one who's got some kind of claim on her time that the rest of us are supposed to just accept.
"She's been staying at my place for medical reasons," Gabriel says, slipping into that sheriff voice that's meant to end arguments before they start. "Those reasons haven't changed."
Medical reasons my ass. I can see the bite mark on her neck from here, fresh and dark and absolutely not medical.
"Haven't they?" I step closer, feeling that familiar temper start to simmer in my gut. "It looks like Lucy's recovered just fine. Maybe it's time she had some options about where she spends her nights.”
The clinic door chimes again, and I don't have to turn around to know it's Beau. I can feel his presence like a storm front moving in.
"Afternoon," he says to Gabriel and me, polite as Sunday service, before turning to Lucy with something warmer in his voice. "I brought you these. Thought they might brighten up the clinic."
Sunflowers. Of course. Trust Beau to show up with the perfect gesture, the kind of thoughtful romantic bullshit that makes the rest of us look like we were raised in a barn.
I watch Lucy's face light up as she accepts the bouquet, and something ugly and possessive twists in my gut like a knife.
"I was hoping," Beau continues, and there's something different in his voice now, something that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, "that you might want to come back to the ranch tonight. For dinner. I make a mean pot roast, and I thought we could watch the sunset from the hill."
And there it is. The gauntlet thrown down, polite as poison and twice as deadly. All three of us here, all three of us wanting the same thing, and Lucy caught in the middle like a calf between hungry wolves.
"So," Gabriel says, his voice deceptively calm, "we're back to this."
"Back to what?" I ask, though I know exactly what he means.
"Back to competing for her attention instead of figuring out how to share it."
The word 'share' hits the air like a lit match thrown into spilled gasoline. Because that's what this is really about, isn't it? The fact that we're all pretending we can make this work while none of us actually knows how to step back and let the others have what we want for ourselves.
"Maybe," Beau says quietly, and there's something in his tone that makes me look at him more carefully, "the question isn't about sharing. Maybe it's about what Lucy wants."
What Lucy wants. As if any of us have actually bothered to ask her instead of standing here like territorial bulls, marking our respective claims on her time and attention.
I glance at Lucy, taking in her wide eyes and the way she's clutching those damned sunflowers like they're the only thing keeping her upright.
She looks overwhelmed, uncertain, and I realize with a sick twist of guilt that we're doing exactly what she's probably been afraid we'd do all along. Making her choose. Forcing her into a corner where any decision she makes will hurt someone.
But the rational part of my brain is drowning in a tide of frustration and exhaustion and two years' worth of resentment that has nothing to do with Lucy and everything to do with the man standing across from me with his perfect flowers and his perfect manners and his complete inability to fight for anything when it actually matters.
"You know what?" I say, my voice getting rougher by the word. "Maybe the question is about fairness. About how Gabriel's had Lucy in his house for damn near a week now, playing protector and provider while the rest of us get whatever scraps of time he's willing to share."
Gabriel's jaw tightens like a vise. "I was following medical protocol."
"Medical protocol?" I laugh, but there ain't a drop of humor in it.
I watch Gabriel's control slip just enough to show the man underneath the badge. "Watch it, Mercer."
"Or what? You'll arrest me for pointing out that you've been using your position to keep Lucy to yourself?"
"Enough." Beau's voice cuts through our brewing fight, calm and controlled as always. "This isn't about Gabriel, and it's not about medical protocol. This is about all of us being too proud to admit we don't know how to share someone we care about."
"Right," I turn on him, two years of hurt and anger finally finding their target like a heat-seeking missile. "Because you're such an expert on sharing, aren't you, Beau? Tell me, how did that work out for you last time?"
Something flickers in Beau's gray eyes, a warning I'm too pissed off to heed.
"At least I tried," he says quietly. "At least I didn't run away when things got complicated."
"I ran away?" The words come out louder than I intended, and I can see Lucy flinch in my peripheral vision. "I ran away? You're the one who walked away, remember? You're the one who decided overnight that what we had wasn't worth fighting for."
"Colt," Gabriel says, his voice carrying a warning, but I'm past listening to warnings from anyone.
"No, this needs to be said." I step closer to Beau, close enough to see the muscle ticking in his jaw like a time bomb.
"You had something good, something real, and you threw it away because it got a little messy.
Because sharing someone meant you had to actually trust someone else with something that mattered to you. "
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I? You got scared and ran"
Beau goes very still, and I realize I've hit something deeper than I intended. But I'm too far gone to pull back now, too raw from exhaustion and want and the memory of watching him walk away from the best thing that ever happened to either of us.
"You think I walked away because I was scared?" Beau's voice is quiet, dangerous as a rattler in tall grass.
"I think you chose the easy way out instead of fighting for what you wanted."
Beau laughs, but it's an ugly sound that makes my skin crawl. "The easy way out. Right."
There's something building in the air between us, something that feels like a thunderstorm about to break open and flood everything in its path. Gabriel takes a step forward, probably sensing the same thing, but Beau holds up a hand to stop him.
"You want to know why I walked away, Colt? You really want to know?"
"Enlighten me."
"Because she was using you." The words come out flat and brutal as a sledgehammer to the chest. "Because Sophia never gave a damn about you, or me, or anything except what she could get out of the situation."
The world tilts sideways like I've been thrown from a horse. "What?"
"I heard her on the phone with her friend.
Laughing about how easy it was to make two grown men dance to her tune.
How she'd already decided I was the better mark.
All that Blackwell money wrapped up in a man desperate to be loved, while you were just..
." He stops, running a hand through his hair.
"You were just the distraction. The warm body to keep her entertained while she worked on getting her hooks into me. "
I can't breathe. Can't think. The words are hitting me like physical blows, reshaping everything I thought I knew about that time, about why it ended, about why he walked away.
"That's not true."
"It is true. And I couldn't tell you because you were so damn in love with her it would have destroyed you to know she saw you as nothing more than a stepping stone to my bank account."
The clinic has gone dead silent except for the sound of my heart hammering against my ribs like it's trying to break free. Lucy's face is pale as winter, her eyes wide with horror.
I stare at him, my chest heaving, trying to process what he's just told me. The words are ricocheting around in my head like bullets, refusing to form a coherent picture.
Sophia was using me. Using us both. And Beau knew.
"You knew," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "All this time, you knew, and you said nothing."
"Colt..."
"Two years." The rage builds slowly, a cold fury that starts in my gut and spreads outward like wildfire. "Two years I've been blaming myself, thinking I wasn't enough, thinking I drove you both away."
"That's not..."
"Two years of believing I was the problem."
I pull back my fist and punch him as hard as I can.
The sound of knuckles connecting with jaw echoes through the clinic like a gunshot. Beau's head snaps back, and he stumbles against the reception desk, blood already welling from his split lip.
For a moment, everything goes still. The only sound is the harsh rasp of our breathing and the soft gasp Lucy makes as she takes in what just happened.
Then Beau straightens, touches his mouth, and looks at the blood on his fingers like it's something mildly interesting instead of something I put there.
"Feel better?" he asks, and there's something that might be relief in his voice.
I stare at him, my knuckles throbbing like a son of a bitch, my chest heaving, and realize that I have no idea how to answer that question.
Because I do feel better.
And I feel worse.
And I feel like I want to hit him again and hug him at the same time, and I have no idea what any of that means or what the hell happens next.
All I know is that the truth is finally out, hanging in the air between us like a bridge we don't know how to cross.