Chapter 19
COLT we’re hoarders.”
He laughs. “We’re not hoarders.”
“Our kitchen would argue with you. I need you to tell me what to keep, and what to get rid of.”
More of that brow pulling together. “Why do you need me to tell you that?”
I understand where his confusion comes from.
I manage our house and our kids like I’m their leader.
Colt helps a lot. More than many men I know.
But I’m the one in charge when it comes to domestic stuff.
And I do it with a clear vision, and never ask for his help on something like this.
However, I’m feeling quite overwhelmed at the moment, and have struggled a little while packing up the house.
“I can’t decide what to get rid of. I’ve tried. I can’t do it. You need to do it.”
He takes all of this in before moving to me. Stepping into my space, he brushes my hair off my face and says, “What’s going on?”
My heart has been racing for days, something it does during times of stress.
Colt always, always, settles it down without even trying.
I think it’s his calm ways, or maybe the care I hear in his voice.
Or maybe it’s just his presence. I don’t know what, but it’s something that only he does for me.
And right now, he’s already started calming it just by being here.
He’ll fix this for me.
“I honestly don’t know, but it’s been going on for the last two days whatever it is.”
“Fuck,” he curses softly. “I’m sorry you’ve had to do the bulk of the packing by yourself. I’ll finish it all off while you rest.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s that. I mean, sure, I’m exhausted, and the kids have been a handful and made it hard to pack, but I don’t think this feeling is coming from packing boxes.”
“When did it start?”
I can answer that without even thinking.
“I was in here with Mum and the kids. It was rowdy as hell. Mum was being her usual off-with-the-fairies self. Knox was zooming around the counter with Branson in tow. Matthew was trying to climb up the stool like he always is. Everlee was crying. And I was over there.” I jab my finger at the wall next to the pantry where we’ve recorded our kids’ heights over the years.
“And instead of trying to wrangle the kids into some kind of order, all I could do was stare at your handwriting on the wall. It was bedlam in here, and I just stood there allowing it while my heart went haywire.”
Colt eyes the wall I’m pointing at. He does this for a long time. To the point where I wonder if he’s forgotten our conversation.
“Colt?”
He turns back to me, and I skip a breath at the depth of emotions I see in his eyes. “We’re leaving a lot of memories behind.”
I take a minute, processing this.
He’s right.
So many memories.
I place my hands to his chest. “I love you.”
His hand goes to my ass. Exactly where it always goes if I’m anywhere within range. His eyes search mine. “Where’d that come from?”
I smile up at him. “You get me. And sometimes you get me before I get me. I didn’t put that together. The leaving memories behind and my overwhelm. I’ve been so excited for our new place, and so focused on getting there, that I haven’t stopped to think about what we’re leaving behind.”
“Yeah, I’m the same.”
I look at his handwriting on the wall again. “Do you remember the day you first wrote on that wall?”
His lips pull up into a sexy smirk as he recalls exactly what I’m remembering. He then takes hold of my ass with both hands and lifts me up onto the counter. It’s the only spare spot in the entire kitchen.
Resting his hands on my thighs, he leans in and brushes his lips over mine. He does this slowly, and without kissing me deeply. It’s like he’s teasing me. “I remember every fucking day I wrote on that wall.”
I loop my hands around his neck and my legs around his. “Do you?”