Chapter Twenty #3
“You’d be surprised.” His exhale was half-snort, half-chuckle. “D and Sue fuss about the garage door, whether to leave it open or shut. Louise and Gene have a fifty-plus-year fight going on about where he should leave his shoes.”
The glimpse into a longterm, stable marriage fascinated her. If her parents’ marriage had ever been stable, she didn’t remember. She cast a look at him from beneath her lashes. “So what did you and Tyler—”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “We’re talking about us and making wise decisions. You want to stash some clothes and toiletries at my house to make life easier when you’re over, great, but we are not ready for that next step.”
She opened her mouth to point out Tick had moved in with Caitlin in mere weeks, but sighed instead. That was different, of course, because they had Eleanor, plus Tick had spent some time sleeping in a separate room.
He paused, hip cocked while he took a sip of his cider. The string lights crisscrossing above the lot cast soft shadows by his nose and under his chin. “You want us to do it right so it lasts, don’t you?”
“You know I do.” Okay, fine, she was pouting. Whatever he believed, she did know her own feelings, and his logical reticence annoyed her to no end sometimes. Why did he think he was in charge of their timeline, anyway?
Leaning in, he kissed her, his lips moving in a quiet laugh against her mouth so she tasted spice and apple and him. “Then let us take it slow.”
Carefully cradling her cup, she pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “I want to stab you every time you say that.”
“Yeah, I know.” He brushed a thumb over her cheekbone, his eyes warm with affection. “Abandonment issues and all that. You want me locked down fast.”
Her face and neck burned. He made her sound so . . . damaged.
Needy.
Desperate.
Exactly how she’d felt those long years trying to hold on to Scott.
“Hey.” He cupped her chin, holding her gaze. “I’m here and I . . . I’m not going anywhere, Holly.”
With her free hand, she fiddled with his collar, screening her eyes with her lashes. Sometimes he saw too much. “Even if I hang the dish towel wrong.”
“Even if.” He whispered a kiss over her cheek and nuzzled her ear. “Or if you try to over-decorate my cabin for the holidays.”
She pulled back, frowning. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“You realize I grew up with Sue, right?” One corner of his mouth hitched. “I assure you the house was decked out.”
Something tightened in his voice, and she didn’t have to look far for a reason. Nicole had been a December baby. Of course, Sue had hidden her grief over the years in perfect holiday decor.
Desperate to lighten the pain in his eyes, she lifted a finger. “How about one tree? A small one.”
He nipped her finger pad, the tiny pain and pleasure shimmering down her nerve endings. “I’ll think about it. Let’s take care of you first.”
“Hmm.” She stepped away, scanning the trees on either side of them. “But you’ll tell me what you need.”
“Yeah.” A rough sound, almost a laugh, rumbled from his chest. He scuffed his hand over his nape. “About that.”
Foreboding settled into a hard lump in her stomach. She fought down the instinctive fear. Hadn’t he just said he wouldn’t leave her?
As they ambled another step or so further, he glanced around them at the handful of other patrons. Down the lane, a little boy clamored for “the biggest tree ever.”
Colt ran a hand over his neck again. “We need to talk about Lamar.”
Oh, she’d known golf hadn’t gone well. She deflated a little. She hated this for him, for Tick, for both of them. “Today was awful, wasn’t it?”
He shrugged and glanced away, his jaw set. His throat moved with a hard swallow.
“He’s not going to forgive me.” His voice was even, steady, but pain ran through it like that river of blue in the damaged cedar in his woodshop. “Which is his prerogative, and I get it. Being around him isn’t healthy for me, though.”
Her breath caught. That assertion was huge.
And a huge problem, for her anyway. Anxiety wrapped cold, tight fingers around her throat.
“I know he’s your friend, maybe your best friend next to Lorraine.” He didn’t look at her, and the lump swelled in her stomach, hurting. “I don’t want to interfere with that.”
She moistened her lip. “Colt.”
He lifted a finger in a staying motion. “I want you to keep doing what you’ve always done with him, and I know I’ll run into him at stuff like always. I need you to get it, though, and not try to throw us together, thinking you can fix us that way. Because what’s wrong between us? It’s unfixable.”
Her heart folded in on itself, a tight, pained little origami. He was right — she wanted to fix it, for both of them, and she couldn’t. And she would never hurt him with this. She loved him too much to—
Her brain skidded to halt, squeezing the breath from her lungs in a small oof. She stared at him, and he tilted his head, a quizzical light in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She pushed the word out on a breathless whisper, and his brows dipped. Somehow, she managed to pull in a breath, with the life-altering knowledge that she loved him rattling around in her awareness. “You’re right. Of course you’re right, and I shouldn’t force you together.”
“Hey, take a breath.” Laughing, he folded an arm about her shoulder and hugged her to him. “I trust you to respect my wishes.”
“Of course.” Her brain pinged all over the implications. She loved him, and he hadn’t said how he felt, other than an assurance he wouldn’t leave. Had she done it again, given her heart to a man who wouldn’t want it or treat it with the care it deserved?
The idea frightened her, wrapping a band across her chest.
“Holly?” That questioning tone colored his voice, threaded with a hint of concern. Her gaze darted to his, finding him watching her, head tilted. “You okay?”
No. No, she wasn’t okay. She’d told herself she’d love him and now she did — without knowing if he loved her in return. What if he never did?
She could tell him, open her mouth and say, “I love you, Colton,” and see what he said in return. She could do that.
Oh, she absolutely could not do that. What if he didn’t say anything? That would be so much worse than Scott, and she’d die, completely, totally die.
No, she could not say anything yet. She could just hear him — she’d get an admonishment about taking things slow, maybe a dismissal of her feelings as hormones and a honeymoon glow. If he said that instead of “I love you, too, Holly,” she’d be crushed.
So she’d just keep her feelings to herself for a little while.
Biting her lip, she pointed at a lopsided tree. “What do you think of that one?”
He cast a quick glance at the conifer, his shoulders moving in a careless shrug. “It’s a tree.”
She forced a laugh. “Seriously, Colt.”
“It’s bare on one side.”
“Okay.” Shaken yet striving for normal, she tucked her hand through his arm.
Under her hand, his forearm was firm, steady.
Trustworthy. A hint of logic reasserted itself in the midst of her panic.
He might not love her now, and she might need to keep her love words to herself — but she could trust him, could rely on his promise not to leave her.
And that would be enough for now.