36. Colt
COLT
I dip the brush into the paint can, wipe the excess against the rim, and then drag it along the replacement shelves. Seven days. That’s all we have left until the Fall Festival. And somehow, it feels like the more I tackle, the more there is to do.
Countless times Alice has come down those stairs, insisting she help.
But the doctor was clear—she needs rest. She’s still getting headaches, and her spirit…
Well, her spirit is injured far worse than her body.
I’ve never seen Alice like this before. Hardly able to smile. The light in her eyes dimmed.
When I think about that moment in the river—
The paintbrush in my hand stills.
My heart pounds.
I’ll never forget the sight of her still body in the water. I thought I’d lost her. For a moment, every good thing in my life was gone. To picture a world without Alice in it is unthinkable. Unbearable. She’s still here, thank god, but something in her has died all the same.
But that’s okay. Because I will do whatever it takes to put a smile back on that woman’s face. I’ve filled the house with flowers from Maggie’s shop, cooked all of Alice’s favorite meals, and I will finish this bookshop on time if it kills me.
Alice always tries to show me how beautiful life is.
Now I’ll remind her of the same thing.
Optimism doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m trained to look for the ambush, the IED, the flaw in the plan. But for Alice? I’ll learn to believe in the best-case scenario. I’ll show her that she was right to believe in this place. And in me.
I’ve been working on a plan of my own. A plan like Alice once had. And after seeing Alice in that hospital bed, I know I have to finish it.
I stand, checking my phone. The tracking notification for the front window says it’s scheduled for delivery tomorrow. Once that glass is in, the shop will stop looking like a boarded-up bunker and start looking like a business.
A sharp knock comes at the front door, and I spin around.
At first I think it’s Alice, who left a few minutes ago for her first venture out since the accident.
She was dead set on going alone to get ingredients for baked apples.
And though she won’t admit it, I know it’s because her mom used to make those when we weren’t feeling well.
But it’s not Alice out there. Between the gaps in the plywood, I make out a man’s frame. He bends down, his shadow growing closer, and I gather that he’s trying to peer inside the house.
I rush across the room and gaze through the peephole, finding exactly who I expect on the other side.
Travis.
I spin away from the door and lean flat against the wall, closing my eyes, forcing myself to take calming breaths.
Because if I open that door, I’m going to beat the shit out of him.
And I can’t do that here. Not on Alice’s property.
That will give him the exact reason he’s looking for to have this place closed before it’s ever opened.
He knocks again, harder this time. “Colt. I know you’re in there. I see your truck.”
I stare straight at the kitchen, hands curling into fists. That bastard isn’t stepping foot inside. If he does, he’ll find more fabricated compliance issues. I’m not sure I can get this place done by next week as it is. If Travis issues another bullshit citation, we’re finished.
“Colt,” he shouts, pounding on the door. “Are you interfering with city-mandated inspections? Because if you refuse to address the issues I have confirmed reports about, I’ll be required to issue a stop work order.”
I gaze through the peephole again. The sun is setting, but even in the shadows, I can see that Travis is red-faced, wearing a long-sleeved button-down that’s too tight across his soft gut.
“Fine,” he sneers, looking right at the peephole. “I’ll be back Monday with a formal ordinance and a sheriff’s deputy if I have to. You’re not opening this hazard to the public. Not on my watch.”
He retreats toward the sidewalk, and I wait, statue-still, until the sound of his car fades completely. Then I spring into action. I set the brush in the kitchen sink and grab my keys from the counter. I’m moving on instinct now—a tactical focus that doesn’t leave room for second-guessing.
I swing the front door open, heading for my truck, and nearly steamroll June.
“Whoa! Sorry!” she gasps, clutching a book to her chest. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I just finished reading this and thought Alice…” June’s expression shifts from surprise to concern. “Colt, what’s wrong? Is Alice okay?”
My eyes flick to the street. “Travis was just here.”
She tsks and shakes her head. “Oh, that guy is the worst. Tries to screw over her bookshop and then has the gall to ask her out?”
I flinch, the world tilting on its axis. “He asked her out? Recently?”
June’s mouth falls open and she winces, realizing Alice didn’t tell me. “Yes?” she says cautiously. Then, frowning, she forges ahead. “He was really hassling her, Colt. They were outside the market and he just wouldn’t stop and—”
I storm toward my truck, blood roaring in my ears.
“Thank you, June,” I call out. “Go on in. Alice will be home soon.”
I slam my truck door closed and peel away from the curb, heading for my mom’s place.
The house squats amidst the pines, my brother’s rusted-out Chevy parked in the driveway.
I don’t bother knocking. I just shove the door open and walk inside.
Warren is sitting at the kitchen table, a beer bottle in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other.
I want to kick the chair out from beneath him when I remember the defeated look on Alice’s face at the soft opening.
I want to finish the fight we started at her house and not stop until one of us folds.
Warren sets his sandwich down, looking at me with wary eyes, as if he can’t decide whether to meet that energy.
I pace, crossing back and forth across the stained living room rug.
“There’s this guy,” I explain. “This fucking guy that keeps interfering with the renovations. He’s a city inspector.
But only part-time, I think, because he’s also into real estate and—” I throw my arms up.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s trying to fuck with Alice. ”
Warren turns bodily toward me and takes a sip of his beer. He watches me over the bottle, then taps it down onto the table. “So,” he says evenly. “Why aren’t you doing something about it?”
“Because that’ll just give him the ammunition he needs to shut her place down,” I snap as Warren bites into his sandwich. “I can’t do that to her.”
Warren sighs, tossing his sandwich a few inches away. His eyes meet mine. “You forget who we are, baby brother.”
I look at him for a long moment.
And then I nod.
“You wanna go?” he asks.
I stare at him, hesitating though I’ve already made up my mind. Without a word, I turn toward the door.
There’s a scrape of chair legs against the floor.
And then there’s Warren, following me to my truck.
It’s fully dark out now, and Alice is probably wondering where I am. But all I can think about is protecting her from this asshole who I should’ve handled the first time he stepped foot in her space.
I roll up to Travis’s place. His address has burned a hole in my brain ever since the first time I looked him up. I think I’d always envisioned showing up on his doorstep the same way he does Alice’s.
Warren cocks his chin toward Travis.
“That him?”
I nod, watching as Travis loads rental signs into the bed of his truck.
“Go on then,” Warren says, already pushing open his door.
June’s words fire through my mind: He was really hassling her, Colt.
Fuck this guy.
I get out of the truck, rage coursing through me, because now that I’ve allowed myself to really feel how much this guy pisses me off, I’m boiling. I flip open my toolbox and grab a screwdriver. Start powering toward Travis.
Travis turns, confusion sweeping across his face.
“What the hell are you—?”
I jerk my arm up, screwdriver clenched in my fist. Travis covers his head, falling backward. With every ounce of my strength, I slam the screwdriver into the sidewall of his tire. Then I’m on Travis, shoving him against his truck.
“You ask Alice out?” I snarl.
Travis starts to speak, and I slam him against his truck again. “You come by her fucking place? Try to force her into dating you? Is that what you’re fucking doing?”
Travis tries to shove me off, then raises his hands.
I slap him, more an insult than anything.
Nearby, I hear my brother laugh.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Travis roars. “You better get out of here before—”
“Before what?” I sneer. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll have your ass tossed in jail!” Travis tries to shake free from my grasp. Tries to kick me off him. “The second you leave, I’ll report you—”
“Nope,” Warren interrupts, his voice unfazed. He leans against the tailgate, glancing casually in both directions to ensure no one is coming. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. My little brother was with me all night.”
Travis starts to yell again, but I grab him by the throat and slam him against the truck, even harder this time. His head bounces off the window, and his eyes glaze over for a second.
I lean in. “You think you’d be the first man I’ve killed, Travis?”
Travis stops moving.
“People always think soldiers kill with guns. But sometimes, Travis, it’s with our hands. They train us how to kill with our hands. Just in case…” I search his face. “Just in case it ever comes to that.”
“Colt,” Warren says. “I thought you were just going to scare him.”
“Changed my mind,” I growl, knowing exactly where Warren is going with that comment.
“Goddammit,” Warren mutters, shaking his head. “I’m not helping you this time. If you do this, I swear to God…” Warren whispers urgently. “Just let him go.”
“No,” I bite out, letting Travis see in my eyes the shit I carry every day. The things I’ve seen and what it’s done to me.
Travis raises his hands in surrender, his entire body trembling. “Okay,” he says, voice shaking. “Okay, I’m sorry.”
“Too late,” I scoff.
“Colt, please!” Travis begs.
“Warren, give me that screwdriver.”
“Okay,” Warren says.
Travis breaks away from me, running for his front door. I grab him by the shirt and tear him backward toward me. He spins, stumbling, hands raised.
I punch him.
His head snaps backward and he falls to the ground. I wait while he curls into a ball, holding his jaw, moaning. Then I kick his boot with mine.
“Come around Alice again, and I’ll put that screwdriver through your neck.”
I turn and walk toward my truck, yanking the screwdriver out of his tire as I go. Warren pushes off the tailgate and follows after me. I glance back once and watch as Travis scrambles inside, slamming his door shut behind him.
The second he’s out of sight, Warren shoves my shoulder, roaring with laughter. “He really thought you were gonna kill him.”
I bat his arm away. “Get the fuck off me,” I say.
But I smile, just a little bit.