32. Colt #2
She faces her parents, her brother, her friends, and raises a glass.
“I’m so grateful to have all of you here for the soft opening.
We’ve got more to tackle over the next…” She glances at me again and laughs nervously.
“Thirteen days. And I couldn’t have gotten this far without Colt, who’s been here every step of the way and donated his time to help me fulfill my dream. ”
“I helped too,” Grant calls out.
Maggie rolls her eyes.
“So,” Alice continues. “Without further ado, I’d like to officially welcome you to…” Alice steps back, pulling the sheet off the temporary sign. “Birds Bookstore!”
My eyes dart from the sign to her, and I huff a laugh, shaking my head. Because I can’t believe she did this. Alice beams back at me, her eyes communicating that this means exactly what I think it does.
The birds. My birds. The ones that meant safety when I was deployed.
“Alice—” I begin.
“Who is that?” Maggie interrupts, lowering her phone.
I follow her gaze to the window and see Warren staggering up the porch steps. He grabs onto the railing, balancing himself, and then continues toward the door.
“Fuck,” I breathe. “Stay here,” I tell Alice before beelining toward the porch.
Maggie beats me there, opening the screen door and stepping toward Warren. She raises a hand, stopping him, like she too can sense that he’s wasted. “Hey. You must be the fire—”
“Move,” Warren demands.
Maggie’s face scrunches. “Ex-cuse me? Okay, why don’t we go onto the porch. You look like you’ve—”
Warren lowers his face to hers. “Get the hell out of my way.”
I shove Warren backward, putting space between him and Maggie. Over my shoulder, Maggie yells, asking who the hell he thinks he is. I start pushing my brother away from the doorway, but a sound behind me steals my attention.
Spinning, I watch Alice rushing toward the kitchen, pushing through the employees only swinging door I installed just this week. I can see instantly that she’s upset. Turning back around, I stab a finger into Warren’s chest. “Don’t move. I mean it! I’ll be back.”
Maggie crosses her arms, staring down Warren. “Don’t worry. I’ve got him.”
I hurry into the kitchen, and when I see Alice’s face buried in her hands, I move to her side. “Hey,” I say gently. “Alice. Alice, look at me.”
She raises her head, and when I spot the tears in her eyes, I jerk my face back like I’ve been slapped. Seeing her like this—upset, vulnerable—it makes me want to physically hurt someone. I don’t think, I just reach for her, pulling her into my arms.
“Alice, what did they say?” I ask.
She shakes her head against me, her tears dampening my flannel shirt.
Jesus, I walked away for two minutes. How could her parents have crushed my girl this quickly? I press a kiss to the crown of her head, knowing I need to get back out there, trying to find the right words to soothe her.
“The hell is going on here?” a voice cuts in.
I release Alice and turn.
Mr. Sinclair stares at us.
Alice steps toward her dad, wiping her face. She takes my hand, grips it tightly. “We’re seeing each other, Dad,” she announces defiantly. “We have been for a few weeks now.”
Mr. Sinclair’s face pulls into an expression of disbelief. Or maybe it’s disgust. Either way, it cuts me far deeper than I thought possible. “Are you kidding me?” His eyes widen as he glances back and forth between the two of us.
“Dad,” Alice says.
Mr. Sinclair points a finger in my direction. “This… It’s not right, Colt.”
Warren pushes the door open, glancing between us. He laughs humorlessly. “Ah. So you found out Colt’s dating your daughter.” His eyes slide to mine. “Did he take it well, Colt? Welcome you into the family?”
Mr. Sinclair stiffens. He may be older, but he’s a farm boy, born and raised. And even with new money to his name, I don’t doubt that he’d accept any challenge Warren threw his way.
“Warren,” I bark. “I told you to stay outside.”
Warren folds his arms, leaning against the open door. Mrs. Sinclair slips closer, brows furrowed in confusion. Behind her, Maggie, June, Dalton, and Grant laugh about something, oblivious to the escalating tension.
Warren nods toward me, but looks at Mr. Sinclair. “So? Does he have your approval?”
Mr. Sinclair faces him. “I don’t know who you are, boy, but—”
“I’m his fucking brother, that’s who I am. Who are you?”
“Warren!” I yell, stepping between them.
“Let me guess,” Warren says, words slurring. “He was good enough to babysit your kid and make sure he got that football scholarship, but not quite good enough to date the daughter, am I right?”
“Enough!” I push him backward.
He staggers a step, and then moves toward Mr. Sinclair again, who’s starting to yell back. “You already got outta him what you needed, huh? He’s no use to you anymore? Once he finishes working on this place for free, that is.”
“That’s not—” Alice begins.
But now Grant is grabbing Warren’s arm, asking what the hell is going on.
Warren shoves Grant. “Get off me!”
Grant stumbles back a few steps before righting himself.
“You the one who pretended to be Colt’s brother while I was gone?” Warren scoffs.
“Fuck you, man,” Grant fires back, not missing a beat. “You left him, didn’t you? Someone had to be there.”
I lunge for Warren, but it’s too late.
Warren tackles Grant, and the two crash to the floor.
I’m on Warren in an instant, yanking him off Grant and hurling him to the other side of the room. It’s not easy. The guy weighs more than I do, but I have better training. The moment Warren’s on his feet, I’m in his face, shoving him once, twice. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I roar.
“Both of you need to get out of here!” Mr. Sinclair booms from the doorway.
I corral Warren toward the front door as he runs his mouth.
“You’re on their side, Colt?” he hollers. “They used you!”