Chapter Sixteen
DEE
We eventually make our way downstairs to eat.
We’re both quieter than usual, like the words are there but neither of us knows how to speak them aloud.
Before the accident, we were in such a solid place.
We were us. But ever since, it’s been this emotional rollercoaster, and I’m exhausted from the highs and lows.
I love him—no question.
And I know he loves me.
But sometimes I wonder…
Is love really enough?
Can we survive every hit life throws our way when he can’t even bring himself to touch me like before? I shake my head, trying to stop the spiral.
“Are we okay?” Colt asks, his voice deep, but hesitant.
I look up at him from across the table and force a smile.
“Yeah. It’s just… a settling-in period. Something we have to adjust to.
I’m fine now. It’s been ages since the accident, and I’m doing great, Colt.
I wish you’d believe me.” I stare at my plate, nudging food around like it might suddenly become appetizing.
He exhales, and silence settles over us like a heavy fog.
“I might go to the music room for a bit. Is that okay?” he asks.
My brow furrows.
He’s asking permission?
Colt never asks.
He just does.
It’s who he is.
“You don’t need to ask me,” I mutter. “You can do whatever you want.”
He stands slowly, taking his plate to the sink. I don’t look up, but I feel him leaving—feel the weight of his absence like a cold draft.
I close my eyes, swallow hard. What the hell is happening to us?
We can’t even share a meal without this awkward tension strangling the room. We were never like this. We used to be inseparable. Now, we’re two strangers clinging to memories.
Princess jumps up beside me, her little tail wagging like everything’s perfect.
I glance down at her, so happy, so unaware of the mess her owners are in.
I stroke her head absently, then spear a small bite from my plate and offer it to her on the fork.
She takes it delicately, like a proper little lady.
It still amazes me how I managed to teach her that.
Something so small, but it reminds me that I’m still capable of something.
If only life could be as simple as it is for Princess.
She begs for more, tail thumping, and I give in, placing the plate on the floor for her. I wasn’t going to eat it anyway.
From down the hall, the sound of Colt’s guitar begins to drift toward me, soft at first, then bolder. My lips twitch at the corners. At least he’s okay when he’s playing. Music is his therapy. His escape. I wish I had something like that.
I wander into the living room, flick the television on, and fall into the couch, letting the cushions absorb some of my heaviness. I don’t even watch what’s playing. I just listen to Colt.
He’s so damn good. Even without lyrics, his guitar sings. And in my mind, I can still hear his voice—rough, rich, perfect. It settles something in me. Anchors me.
I mute the television and close my eyes, letting the music wash over me.
Then something changes. The rhythm. The tempo. It’s new, something I haven’t heard before. My head lifts from the cushion, curiosity piqued. I rise and follow the sound like a magnet, down the hall, until I’m just outside the doorway. I don’t want to interrupt, not when he’s so deep in it.
He starts to hum along with the melody, low and effortless, and my breath catches. Even that—just a hum—lights something inside me. He’s the Pied Piper and I’m helpless to resist.
I step closer, peeking in to find him completely lost in the music, eyes closed, head nodding in time. And in that moment, I remember exactly why I fell for him.
Why I still fall.
Colter Slade is more than just a rock god.
He’s my rock.
He hits the final chord and exhales, chest rising and falling with a quiet satisfaction. I don’t move, just watch him. Then I slowly start to clap.
His eyes open, locking with mine. And for the first time in what feels like forever, he smiles.
“You’re such a sexy rock god, you know that?” I tease, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.
He chuckles low, placing his guitar carefully into its stand. “And you’re a sexy Slayette.” His eyes gleam with amusement as he stalks toward me.
I tilt my head, heart a little lighter. “Was that a new song?”
He closes the distance between us and nods. “Yeah. The one you, me, and Johnny worked on. What’d you think?”
I grin, genuinely. “It’s perfect, Colt.”
He flashes that cocky, proud grin. “I know, right?”
I roll my eyes. “Can you play it again? But this time, sing it for me?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course, baby.”
Taking my hand, he leads me into the room, that subtle dominance in his touch still there, even in the smallest of gestures. I sink onto the couch, watching as he settles onto the stool opposite me and grabs his guitar again.
“Thanks for coming in,” he says, gaze softening. “I’ve missed playing for you.” He leans in and kisses me. I kiss him back, but keep it brief, needing the music more than the moment.
“Now sing to me, rock god,” I whisper, settling in with a hint of anticipation.
He smirks, then starts to strum.
And just like that, I’m lost in him all over again.
***
After spending the afternoon lost in an impromptu acoustic concert, something between us started to shift. It wasn’t dramatic or loud. It was quiet and steady. But it felt like what we needed to begin finding our way back to each other after the chaos of last night.
Dinner was simple. Easy. We talked a little more, touched a little more.
Then we curled up on the sofa, wrapped in each other, the television playing in the background while exhaustion slowly dragged at my limbs. The lack of sleep from the night before has caught up with me, and eventually, I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.
But as we head upstairs, a new kind of tension takes hold.
What if he sleeps in the guest room again?
What if today was a reprieve—a moment of comfort that doesn’t stretch into the night?
My heart pounds with uncertainty, but when we reach the landing, Colt takes my hand. He doesn’t say a word while leading me to our room. Relief washes over me, so deep it almost makes me dizzy. I don’t let it show, I just follow, grateful. Sleeping beside him matters more than I ever realized.
Once inside, I change into my pajamas, but the familiar sense of doubt creeps back in.
I don’t plan to make any moves tonight. I can’t bear rejection again.
The sting of last night is still too fresh, and no matter how hard I try to push it aside, the whispers in my head keep asking—What if I’m not enough anymore?
Colt must sense the shift in me because he crosses the room and folds me into his arms. His lips brush my forehead with a tenderness that nearly undoes me.
“I love you,” he murmurs. “Don’t ever doubt it.”
I nod, giving him a soft, practiced smile. One that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
He lets go and moves to the bed, pulling back the covers. I follow quietly, slipping under the sheets and reaching for my hormone supplement on the bedside table. I swallow it quickly, the bitter taste lingering longer than usual.
Colt slides in beside me, lying on his back, and I switch off the light. The room is bathed in quiet darkness as I shift closer, curling into his side. His warmth is reassuring, but that silence creeps back in like an unwanted guest.
Just as I open my mouth to break it, Colt starts to hum. That deep, soothing sound vibrates in his chest beneath my cheek, and I cling to him a little tighter. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to. His humming speaks volumes.
But even as the melody wraps around me, my thoughts begin to drift.
Back to last night.
Back to the moment when everything cracked wide open.
To the feeling of being less.
Half a woman.
Unwanted.
Unworthy.
The music fades beneath the roar of my insecurities, and no matter how tightly I hold onto him, it’s not enough to quiet the doubt taking root in my mind.
What if he doesn’t want me?
What if he never truly will again?
I wake, eyes fluttering open as I glance across the bed—just to confirm what I already know.
Colt isn’t there.
My head lifts slowly. Suitcases line the floor.
What the hell?
A flicker of hope sparks.
Maybe he’s surprising me with a vacation?
I sit up, only then realizing I’m naked. When did that happen?
Peeling the sheets away, I step out of bed and head to the walk-in closet, where Colt’s zipping up another suitcase.
“Where are we going?” I ask softly.
He turns to face me, but there’s no warmth in his eyes. “We’re not going anywhere, Dee. You are.” He turns back to his task like I’m not even there.
Confused, I step in, placing a hand on his arm. “What do you mean? Where am I going?”
He shrugs, unfazed. “Somewhere that isn’t here.”
“Colt, talk to me.” My voice tightens, emotion swelling.
He brushes past me without answering, walking back into the bedroom with a coolness that guts me.
This isn’t him.
This isn’t my Colt.
I follow, grabbing his arm and spinning him to face me. “Colt, stop. What’s going on?”
He exhales sharply and rolls his eyes. “I’m leaving you, Dee. This is my house, so you’re the one moving out. And I’m keeping Princess.”
My breath catches. “What?”
He gestures dismissively. “Come on, Dee. Look at yourself.”
My eyes drop to my stomach. The scar is massive—raw, red, angry. I instinctively flinch, covering it with my hand.
Colt laughs.
“I… I’m sorry,” I whisper, heat burning behind my eyes.
He shakes his head like I’m pathetic. “It’s not your fault you’re not attractive anymore.”
I reach for him. Desperate. I need him to see me.
To remember.
I crash my mouth to his, kissing him with everything I have left.
His arms wrap around me, gripping my naked body.
I moan, twisting my fingers into his hair as our tongues tangle.
But then…
He rips away from me like I’m toxic.
I blink, breath heaving.