Chapter Eight #2
“You’re not a crazy person,” Colt murmurs, his voice low but firm, the kind that grounds me.
“You’ve had major surgery, Dee. Your body’s healing, your hormones are out of whack, and your emotions are going through hell.
You’ve got every right to fall apart. Stop beating yourself up for being human.
Let yourself feel this. Grieve. Rage. Cry. Whatever you need to do… I’ll be here.”
I blink up at him, heart squeezing so tight it hurts. “But who’s going to help you through it?” I whisper, my bottom lip quivering.
His expression hardens, not with anger, but determination.
“We help each other. That’s what this is, what we are.
A team. You’re my girl, and I’m your man.
I carry you when you fall, and when it’s my turn, I know you’ll be right there beside me.
Don’t waste your energy worrying about me, baby.
As long as I’ve got you, I’ve got everything. ”
A tiny smile pushes through my tears, and he grins like it’s gold.
“There she is. My beautiful, snot-covered, tear-streaked fiancée.” He chuckles, brushing the damp strands of hair off my face. “Still the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, even if your face looks like it’s survived a tropical storm.”
My eyes widen as I swipe my forearm across my nose with a horrified little laugh. “Oh my God. Sorry.”
Colt laughs again and catches my chin, turning me gently back toward him. “I love you anyway.”
Then his lips press to mine.
Soft. Steady. Strong.
A surge of warmth floods my chest as I kiss him back, losing myself in everything that is him. He groans against my lips, his fingers sliding into my hair, anchoring me. I melt. I breathe again.
Until—
“Colter? Where are you?” Mum’s voice cuts through the moment.
Colt reluctantly pulls away, his eyes still locked on mine. “Down here, Liz,” he calls, not breaking contact.
She appears at the top of the stairs. “Oh, my goodness. Are you two all right? Deliah, did you fall, sweetheart?” she asks, rushing toward us.
“I’m okay, Mum. Just misjudged the stairs,” I say, trying to downplay the wreck I’ve been.
She kneels beside us, concern radiating off her. “Why are you crying? Did you hurt yourself?”
I shake my head and take her offered hand.
Colt helps lift me, then hands me my crutches, standing once I’m steady.
“No, I’m fine. I just had a bit of a panic attack, that’s all.”
“A panic attack isn’t nothing, Deliah. I think your father and I should stay a little longer to help Colter—”
“No, Mum. That’s not necessary,” I say quickly, my voice gentle but firm. “I’m okay now. I just had a moment. And I really want time with Colt. We haven’t been alone in weeks. I need that. I hope you understand.”
She nods, seeing the truth in my eyes. “All right. But if you need anything, you know we’re right down the road.”
“Thank you. We do,” I say, giving her hand a grateful squeeze.
She turns to Colt. “And Colter, I know you and Ford don’t always agree, but he’s grateful for what you’re doing, for looking after my darling daughter like this.”
“I’ve got her,” Colt says simply. No bravado. Just fact.
He helps me up the stairs and into the house, where Dad’s still lounging with the newspaper, blissfully unaware. “What was all that noise?” he mutters, not even glancing up.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I reply, moving past him.
But he looks up and frowns. “Jesus, Colt, what’d you do this time?”
I stop cold. “Nothing,” I say, sharper than intended.
“Colt didn’t do anything. He helped me. Like he always does.
You don’t get to assume he’s at fault every time I’m upset.
He’s the one constant in my chaos, and I’m sick of you making him feel like he has to prove himself.
We’re past this. Or at least, I thought we were. ”
Silence hangs in the room like a blade—one wrong move and everything shatters.
Colt’s still.
Mum’s quiet.
Everyone waits.
Dad folds the paper slowly and sets it aside. He removes his glasses with a sigh. “Okay.”
I blink. “Okay?”
“Yes. Okay. Sorry, Colter. That was out of line…” He pauses. “Thank you for being there for Deliah.” Then, he clears his throat. “On a less serious note, I don’t like this whole ‘Dad’ thing. I’m used to being called ‘Daddy,’ and frankly, ‘Dad’ doesn’t suit me.”
I blink at him, stunned, while Mum silently walks over to the table and starts clearing the dishes like this is just another Tuesday.
“Well, stiff,” I tease. “If I’m going to start working and being more independent, I can’t keep calling you Daddy. Plus, I’ll be thirty soon, it’s about time I retired the name.”
Dad shakes his head, already lifting his paper. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he mutters, smoothing the creases as he folds it open again.
I roll my eyes and hobble back to the table, sitting beside Colt.
We spent the rest of the afternoon with my parents. I hold it together, keep my smile in place, pushing down the tension in my chest. There’s no mention of the panic attack—not to Dad, anyway. He’d overreact, worry too much, and I can’t deal with that on top of everything else.
The house still presses on me. A weight. A reminder. But when they finally leave, I manage to breathe a little easier.
Colt shuts the door behind them and turns to me. “How are you really doing?” he asks, eyes locked on mine.
“I’m okay.” I shift my crutches. “I just want to be with you.”
Without hesitation, he bends and scoops me into his arms.
Strong. Solid. Safe.
He carries me to our bedroom and lays me gently on the bed, setting my crutches aside. “I’m proud of you,” he says, watching me closely.
I furrow my brows. “Why?”
He sits beside me, taking my hands. “Because even through everything… the pain, the disappointment, you still defended me. You stood up to your dad, even when you were barely holding yourself together.” His voice lowers. “You always protect me, Dee. I hope I’m strong enough to do the same for you.”
My heart twists because he has. Over and over again.
“You have saved me,” I whisper. “You freed me from a life that wasn’t mine. You made me stronger. Every kiss, every time you hold me, you remind me I’m not broken. You give me something to fight for. And I’ll never stop being grateful for that.”
I lean in and kiss him.
His lips curve slightly against mine, and I feel his smile before I taste it.
I rake my fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss, craving more.
My tongue sweeps against his, and I let out a soft moan, silently begging him not to stop.
He answers with a low sound in his throat, one hand tangling in my hair as he pulls me closer.
The connection is instant. It’s like a flame reigniting, like gravity has finally found its center.
As he starts to pull away, I tighten my grip, forcing his mouth back to mine.
He groans, his tongue sliding against mine in a slow, deliberate rhythm that makes my toes curl.
I trail one hand down his chest and lower, finding the hard ridge straining against his jeans.
I stroke him through the denim, and he moans, the sound vibrating between us.
His hand cups my breast, firm and hot, and his other hand clutches my neck.
I arch into him, needing more. So I yank at his shirt, pulling him down with me as I lie back on the bed. He hovers above me, holding his weight on his arms, careful not to crush me.
But I don’t want careful.
I want him.
All of him.
“Colt, please,” I murmur against his mouth, wrapping my leg around his waist, dragging him down.
He hesitates, eyes searching mine.
“I need to feel you,” I whisper.
With a groan, he kisses me again and slowly lowers his body onto mine. His weight, the heat, it unlocks something in me, something desperate and alive. Primal.
I grind against him, chasing the friction, needing it.
He kisses me harder, deeper, and the tension in my body coils tight. But then, instinctively, I move my right leg and pain shoots through it, sharp and instant. I flinch with a cry.
Colt jerks back immediately. “Shit! What happened?” he asks, voice rough, eyes scanning me like I might break.
“No, no, don’t stop,” I breathe, reaching for him. “It was just a cramp. I’m fine.”
He leans in to kiss me again, but another cramp hits, and I let out a groan.
Colt pulls back completely, moving to the edge of the bed. “No. That’s enough,” he snaps, frustration bleeding through his worry. “Where did it hurt?”
I stare at him, stunned. “Colt, I said I’m fine. It was just a cramp. Please…” I reach for him again, but he ducks away, adjusting the obvious bulge in his jeans, jaw tight as he exhales sharply.
“I’m fine,” I repeat, breathless and aching. “Please, just kiss me…”
His lips press into a flat line as he shakes his head. “I can’t, baby. I’m sorry, but I can’t risk hurting you. I let that go too far. We both know we’ve got weeks to wait, and I shouldn’t have even let it get to that point. I love you, but I won’t hurt you.”
He doesn’t wait for my reply—just rolls off the bed and disappears into the closet.
I flop my head back on the pillow with a dramatic sigh. “Great. Just great.”
I finally get some love from Colt, and my stupid leg has to go and ruin it all. Sure, we couldn’t have gone all the way, but we could have made out for hours. I would have taken that and savored every second.
Now? Now I’m stuck here with throbbing… everywhere. And Colt won’t even look at me sideways, let alone kiss me properly.
I huff and cross my arms like a petulant teenager, trying and failing to ignore the ache still pulsing between my legs.
He walks out of the closet, holding one of his tank tops and a pair of boxer shorts.
Translation—all chances of intimacy have officially died a slow, painful death.
But then, he leans down, that coy little smirk tugging at his lips.
“I’m sorry, baby. I just… I can’t. You’re not fully healed, and that leg cramp proved it.
But I promise, the moment you’re fighting fit, I’m going to do way more than make out with you.
” He helps me sit up, and I huff, frustrated beyond belief.
I know I’m sulking, but I can’t stop. Getting a taste of him only to have it snatched away is torture.
He lifts my shirt and unhooks my bra, and I try my best seduction attempt by pressing my chest toward him as he slides off my skirt.
He laughs.
Laughs.
“Colt, seriously?” I grumble incredulously, already annoyed.
“Yes, Dee, seriously.” His voice is firm, low. That no-bullshit tone he uses when he’s in command. “I want you. You know I do. But I’m not going to cave just because you flash your gorgeous tits at me.” He taps my arms, and I lift them. “Now, be a good girl and get your shirt on.”
With a grumble I can’t help letting out, he pulls the tank top over my head, adjusting it gently over the scar that still makes me flinch.
“You’re adorable when you don’t get your own way,” he teases, stepping just out of reach.
I glare. Colt pulls off his shirt and then his jeans, and bam his erection springs free.
I think I actually whimper. Pathetic.
“Colt, come on. Don’t tease. I could at least give you a blowjob,” I offer, desperate for any form of connection.
He chuckles and shakes his head, grabbing his boxers. “You have no idea how insane it is that I’m saying this, but… no. If you can’t be satisfied, then neither will I. It’s only fair. If one of us has to hold out, we both will.”
And just like that, the frustration melts a little because, dammit, that’s thoughtful. Selfless, even.
I blink up at him. “Wow. Who even are you?”
“There it is,” he murmurs, grinning. “That smile. The one I live for.” He climbs into bed on the other side, after pulling the sheets back.
“I’m sorry, baby. I know you want me. I want you too.
So much that it physically hurts. But if your leg cramps from kissing, then I’m not going to push my luck.
I’ll wait. However long it takes.” He helps me settle under the covers, just like last night, and wraps himself around me.
I tuck my arm around his shoulders and press a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you too,” I whisper. “Even though you right royally piss me off.”
He chuckles, leans up to kiss me, then pulls away before I can even taste him. “Goodnight, baby.”
I sigh and switch off the side table lamp.
But sleep doesn’t come easy.
I lie there for hours, staring at Colt’s chest as it rises and falls. He snores softly beside me, blissfully unaware that my mind is spiraling.
The hysterectomy.
The emotional crash.
The constant grumpiness.
Could this already be the start of menopause?
Hot flashes. Sweating. Mood swings.
I don’t know if I’m ready for this next chapter.
But ready or not… it’s here.