Chapter 19
Colter
The front porch light is on. I can see the glow of the light from where I sit in the front living room. We never sit here. At one point, it was used to entertain, but over time, it just became a place to collect dust. Until tonight.
Tonight, it offers me the perfect sightline to watch as Kayla pulls her deathtrap of a car alongside the parked ranch trucks.
I watch as she gets out, looking absolutely exhausted, and ambles her way up the front steps like her feet are killing her—I’ve told her time and time again that she needs to wear shoes with better support, but she doesn’t listen.
I watch as the front door swings open, and she tiptoes into the house, clearly expecting everyone to be asleep.
I don’t know why she would think I could fall asleep without knowing where she is. Without knowing if she’s safe.
Taking a swig from my beer, I watch her wobble her way out of her flats, balancing precariously on one foot to rub the other. Her shoulders sag, brown hair draping over her shoulders, as she takes a private moment to compose herself.
And I take in her private moment like I’m taking in my last breath.
She startles when she sees me.
“Oh,” she says. Not hey. Not hi. Just oh.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I say, even though she doesn’t look scared. She looks worn down, like the day has stolen all her light.
She gives a small smile, the kind that strangers give at the grocery store. “Didn’t know you were still up.”
“I was waiting for you,” I admit, then immediately want to take it back. Her eyes flick away. “I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”
“I did.”
Silence.
She walks past me, straight to the kitchen, and puts her travel mug in the sink.
Doesn’t look at me again. Doesn’t ask about dinner.
Doesn’t ask how my day went. If she asked, I’d tell her my day was shit.
I’d tell her I came home early willingly for the first time in years, already knowing she wouldn’t be here, but wishing she were.
I finally push off the couch, the leather creaking as I stand. I trail after her into the kitchen, like she’s my northern star, guiding me home.
“Kayla.” She doesn’t turn around. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
My jaw tightens. I’m not good at this part. I never have been. “For what I said last night. For making you feel like you didn’t belong here.”
She nods. Just a nod. Still not facing me. She grabs a rag and starts wiping the counter—cleaning surfaces that are already clean.
“Kayla.”
She finally turns. That soft smile is gone. What’s in its place is so much worse—controlled, polite, unreadable. My son’s teacher, poised and professional.
I hate it. I want her to call me a bozo. I want to see that spark in her eyes.
“It’s fine, Colter.”
“It’s not.”
Her eyes narrow just slightly. “You said what you felt. I’m a guest here. That’s fair.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I reach up, rubbing my hand back and forth across the back of my head.
“But it’s what you said.” She crosses her arms, hip cocked like she’s holding herself up with attitude, like if she doesn’t, she might fall apart. “And I’m not mad. I just get it now.”
“Get what?”
She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.” Anything and everything she’s feeling matters to me.
“I’m going out of town this weekend,” she says suddenly, like it’s nothing. “I’m flying to Chicago this Friday night. After work.”
That hits me harder than I want to admit.
“For how long?”
“Just the weekend. I’ll be back Sunday.”
But will she? Or will she realize that there’s too much holding her down in Montana? That she can’t enjoy her early twenties in Castlebrook?
Suddenly, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.
I clear my throat. “You going to see your brother?” She nods. “You didn’t mention it before.”
“I didn’t know before,” she says. It’s either a lie, which hurts.
Or she planned it after my fuck up, an excuse to get away from me.
That hurts more. “I have to head to bed, I’m exhausted.
” A yawn follows closely behind, and I know it’s not just another excuse to hide away.
She turns to leave, and I reach out, a hand on her arm. She stills, but doesn’t look at me.
“Kayla.”
She doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t lean in, either. “I know I screwed up.”
She nods, pensive. “You didn’t, Colter. You said exactly what I needed to hear. Thanks for waiting up,” she says, quiet but not unkind. Like she’s saying goodbye to the idea of something that never really had the chance to start.
And then she walks upstairs, barefoot and quiet, leaving me alone with the hum of the fridge and a warm bottle of beer, feeling worse than I had before she’d walked through that door.
Kayla continues to put distance between us.
The rest of the week is spent trying to just get a moment with her, even if it is just for a few seconds.
I hadn’t realized how much of my days had been dominated by Kayla until suddenly she was gone.
Now I have no one to watch Survivor with.
No one to sit down with at dinner and ask me how my day was.
No one to pull me out of my funk. I’m a miserable old bastard without Kayla.
“So, she’s just gone?” Jake asks, hopping down from Remy and reaching down to uncinch her saddle. “She didn’t even come home after work?”
“No,” I grumble, bitterness settling into my gut. “She was out of the house before Ben was awake this morning, and never came back. Ben said they had Mr. Alvarez come in last block, and Kayla left.”
“No shit,” my brother wipes the sweat off of his upper brow, lips pursed together. “All because you told her she wasn’t a babysitter?”
“I don’t know, man,” I heave Saturn’s saddle off his back. “I think it might have been that I called her a guest.”
“Huh.” It’s nice to know I’m not the only one confused by the whole situation. I get that I took my shitty day out on her, and in doing so, I made her feel unwelcome. But running away to Chicago seems a bit extreme.
Something about the whole situation screams out to me, but I just can’t pinpoint what exactly. It’s pissing me the fuck off. If I knew what was wrong, then maybe I could fix it.
“We’ll figure it out,” Jake promises, clapping me on the back and passing me one of the brushes for Saturn. “She’ll be back in a few days, and by then we’ll have a game plan.”
I don’t know when exactly I gave in to this whole townwide matchmaker thing, but hell, if I’m not all for it now. If they know how I can make Kayla stay, I’ll invite them all to our wedding.
“Unless she decides not to come back,” I sigh. I brush the dirt off of Saturn, letting the familiarity of the movements soothe my nerves. “Harry still hasn’t extended a job offer to her for next year. She’s already on the fence on whether she's staying or not.”
“That fucking dipshit.” I appreciate Jake’s ferocity at the thought of Harry fucking this all up, but it seems a little extreme. “Carol reminded him on Monday to send an email to Kayla with her choice of placements. Apparently, there’s an opening for a second-grade and fifth-grade teacher.”
“How do you know that?”
“The group chat, obviously.”
“What group chat?”
“The Castlebrook Kayter group chat.”
“What the fuck is a Kayter?” I sigh, afraid that I already know the answer.
“You are. Well, you and Kayla.”
“You’re kidding me.” I drawl blandly.
“Hey, I thought it was pretty clever. I came up with it, you know.”
Of course he did. “Good job, Bud,” I smile placatingly, like I do when Ben tells me he finished his chores.
“Fuck off,” he snaps back, sensing the tone and not appreciating it. He guides Remy into the pasture beside the barn and removes her halter. “You should treat me nicer. I’m about to make sure Kayla comes back on Sunday.” He holds the gate open for me, and I let Saturn loose for the night.
“And that’s why you’re my favorite brother.”
“No, I’m not,” he scoffs, pulling the gate closed behind both of us. “Our brother is travelling the world, saving lives. He automatically gets the favorite title.”
True. How could he not be the favorite when he’s the most selfless man I’ve ever met?
Bastard.
“I’m heading home,” he pulls a set of keys from his pocket, unlocking one of the trucks that belongs to the ranch. Jake lives on his own section of the land, a couple of quarters over. He built his own home on the land, designing it with the help of some big-time architect from San Francisco.
It’s a little too ostentatious for me, but it’s not my house, so I just keep my mouth shut.
“Sure thing. I’ll see you and Finn tomorrow.”
“Eight o’clock. Don’t be late.”
“Come on,” I spear him with a look.
“Yeah, I know. You’re obviously going to be late.”
I stay standing on the gravel driveway as he drives away, watching until I can no longer see his taillights. And then I stand there a little while longer, just procrastinating, knowing that when I do finally walk into that house, I’ll be reminded of just how big it is for one person.
Without Kayla or my son waiting for me, I don’t really want to go home.
Funny how quickly people stop being guests and start being the reason a house feels like home.
The Castlebrook Kayter Text Chain
Jake Williams
Harry, you better send that fucking email, or you’re going to have hell to pay from all of us.
Harry Alvarez
Fuck. I forgot. Sending it now.
Carol Quinten
Harry! Shame on you!