Colt #2
I seize her waist and twirl her around. She erupts with laughter and tries to run from me, but I grip her tighter, holding her firmly in place. “No. No running. Tell me right now. Did you know you still had that book?”
Alice cranes her neck, peering over my shoulder toward the large front window. I take her chin gently and force her to look at me.
“Answer me, Alice.”
Her giggles quiet when our eyes meet, though she’s still smiling. She tips her head back, meeting my gaze defiantly. “Yes. I knew I had it. I never even attempted returning it.”
My eyes study hers, searching for an answer to a question I’m incapable of voicing. Instead, I ask the closest thing to it. “Why did you keep it?”
Her answer comes swiftly, unapologetically, the smile falling from her lips. “Because you gave it to me.”
I just nod, finding it hard to breathe.
“Because you asked about the book I was reading,” she continues, her blue eyes locked on mine. “And you brought me the sequel home without a word, and just left it on the counter.”
My thumb slides from her chin, traveling down her neck. Alice lifts her head a touch more, making space for my hand. Slowly, my fingers wrap around her, lifting ever so slightly to brush the soft hairs at the nape of her neck.
I stop breathing entirely, every inch of my skin burning to close the distance between us and do what I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. The music plays on in the background, indifferent, but I can barely hear it over the roar of adrenaline in my ears.
Alice’s eyes drift to my mouth, and suddenly I’m sixteen again, and I’m standing in the living room, steps away from where I am now, and I can hear Grant talking in the kitchen, trying to keep his voice low.
But it’s not low enough, because I can make out that he’s explaining my mom and what he saw in our fridge and asking if I can stay for a while.
I jerk my hand away and step back, sucking in air, remembering how much I needed this place and these people years ago.
“Well,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’m pretty sure it’s a…
federal crime. Stealing from a public institution.
” Returning to the box, I start yanking out books and putting them on the shelves, trying to resume a normal breathing pattern and forget what I almost did.
Alice comes to stand beside me, and we line up the books, handful after handful.
She’s close enough that her arm brushes mine when we reach into the box at the same time.
There’s a current in this house. The same sensation I’d feel before an enemy erupted from their hiding place.
It’s a sensation of knowing something big, something dangerous, is coming.
“You were always doing stuff like that,” Alice says quietly, her eyes fixed on the spines she’s straightening.
“Lifting my spirits when my parents were being strict. Listening when no one else would. Showing me I had talent where I thought none existed.” She bites her lip, and the sight causes my vision to blur.
Alice puts her hand on my forearm, stilling me.
“You saw me, Colt. And the memory of that attention, even while you were gone, kept me going when I felt…alone.”
Something inside me snaps.
I drop the book I’m holding, grab her waist, and pin her against the very shelves I just built.
Her lips part and her breath catches. I plant my hands on either side of her head, gripping the shelves, locking her in.
The gold flecks in her eyes catch the light, and I can see her pulse thrumming against her neck.
I lean in, my face inches from hers, my mind screaming at me to take what I want.
To find out if she tastes the way I imagine.
To cling onto her happiness and make it my own.
It’s this last thought that stops me.
Because she is sunshine and hope and happiness. And I can still see my mom passed out on the linoleum floor and my father’s abandoned clothes hanging in the closet. I can see the unread texts I sent to Warren and I can see the sand.
And the flash and the smell of burnt metal.
My team. My boys. My fucking responsibility.
Alice is a woman who believes the best can happen.
And I’m a man who believes I should have died alongside them.
“Colt.” Alice’s soft voice cuts through the noise, and I step closer, my forehead going to her shoulder.
Her hands find my back and she’s pulling me toward her, but I need no help with that.
Alice arches into me, her breath warm against my neck.
I turn my head just enough and my lips graze her skin.
I keep them there for a second. Just long enough to think this could happen. I could be happy. I could be the man she thinks I am and share this dream alongside her. And then I’m stepping back, head hanging.
“I should get back to work,” I rasp, unable to meet her gaze. Because I’m not worthy of Alice, and if she looked closely enough, she’d see that too.
She’s quiet for a long time. And then, “Okay.”
I nod.
We both stand there for a moment longer, and then Alice walks back into the office. I snatch my keys off the counter and bang through the front door, the sunlight blinding. Swinging the truck door open, I climb inside. Start the ignition. Back up. Head toward the lumberyard. I’ll get more wood.
I’ll sand more shelves.
I’ll build every bookshelf in the world if it prevents me from reaching for Alice again.