Chapter 32
32
William Andino
N ew Year’s has always been something I enjoy. It’s not everyone’s favorite, but it’s one of mine. Getting to look back and reflect on the last 365 days and make little goals or wishes for the upcoming year just resonates with me and calms something inside of myself. This past year has had more changes, both big and small, than I’ve experienced in several years. Making the decision to move back to Copper Lake when my dad retired, I truly didn’t know what to expect. Being gone so long, I got used to living one way. I was… comfortable, for lack of a better word, with the way my life was, but knew in my heart that it was the right thing to do to move back and take over my family’s practice.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t nervous, or I wasn’t worried that it would be something I’d grow to regret. After all, I left Copper Lake for a reason. However, as I stand around this bonfire with members of this community, my family, and my closest friends, I can’t help but think everything may have worked out just the way it was supposed to. A beer in hand, I glance over the roaring flames, gaze locking right on a pair of shimmering green eyes that are already watching me. Even looking at him has my heart skipping a beat.
If I had never made the decision to come back, I never would’ve gotten this chance with Colt. Sure, that first night we hooked up in Seattle, I woke up feeling like it was a huge mistake. I berated myself for going there with him, but the reality is, Colt is so much more than just my best friend’s son. For the first time in almost twenty years, I feel alive. I feel relaxed and carefree. He brings out a side of me I thought I’d lost. Something I thought maybe died from all the years of being by myself.
It's New Year’s Eve, and it’s nearly midnight. We’re all at Conrad’s ranch for a huge barbecue, and all I want is to the end the year with my lips on Colt’s and my arms wrapped around him, but that’s nearly impossible with all of these people around, Max and Trish especially. Eyes scanning the area, I find them sitting off to the side, chatting with the Grahams. With one last look at Colt, my face hopefully saying what I want it to say, I step away from the fire, walking with long strides toward the side of the barn. A quick look at my watch tells me we only have a few minutes until midnight.
Luckily, Colt seems to have caught my drift because a moment later, he’s rounding the corner, a boyish grin plastered on his face like he’s the cat that got the canary. Stalking closer to me, he backs me up against the side of the barn, his hands planting beside my head. The scent of his cologne and the beer on his breath washes over me, settling in my bones.
“Sneaking away to make out with me, Doc?” he drawls, voice raspy and rough. “What a naughty man you are.”
“You love it. ”
He huffs out a chuckle. “Damn right, I do.”
I place my hands on his hips, pulling his body closer to mine. “Having fun tonight?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “Shooter’s pretty drunk, and it’s funny. He keeps talking about how he and Sterling should start having babies. Actually, what he said is…” He clears his throat. ‘We should have a couple tiny little rugrats with your precious honey eyes and my good looks.’”
I can’t help but laugh because I can absolutely picture Shooter saying something like that. Colt’s friendships remind me a lot of mine with Max and Conrad. Most of them he’s known since he was little, and I think relationships like that are so special, and honestly, a little rare these days. While I can’t say I’ve ever been all that interested in the rodeo and that lifestyle, I also can’t deny how much it’s brought people in this town together. It’s one big family, through the good and the bad.
“What about you?” I ask.
“What about me?” His brows raise.
“Do you want little rugrats running around?”
“No way.” He chuckles. “I’ll be the fun uncle, but that’s about it.”
Something like relief washes through me hearing him say that. I love kids, but I’ve never wanted any of my own. The topic has never come up with us, and I didn’t even think to bring it up until he mentioned them, but I would feel guilty if Colt did want kids because, especially at my age, that’s not something I’m willing to be flexible about. So, I’m glad we’re on the same page.
“Being the fun uncle is where it’s at,” I murmur, just as I hear everybody start to count down from ten in the distance. We both turn our head in that direction before glancing back and looking at each other. In unison, we softly join the countdown.
Five.
A smile spreads on his handsome face.
Four.
His gaze drops down to my mouth, a zing of arousal zipping down my spine at the sight.
Three.
I’m so completely gone for Colt Bishop.
Two.
I’m in love with him.
One.
“Happy New Year, William,” Colt whispers a moment before his mouth crashes down on mine. Fireworks go off in the distance, but the real explosion is between us. Bringing his hands to my face, he tilts my head, tongue slipping past my parted lips as it brushes against mine. My head swims as I taste him, feel him. Colt presses his body into mine, hard and hot, pinning me to the side of the barn, and everything around us vanishes.
In this moment, the fireworks, the cheering, all of it falls on deaf ears. It’s me and Colt, reveling in one another, and nothing—and I mean, nothing —has ever felt this right. It takes no time at all for the kiss to turn heated and messy, like around Colt I become insatiable. I don’t know how long we stand here, but before long, I hear a voice cut through, and it turns my blood ice cold.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
At the same time, Colt and I freeze. Our eyes pop open, and there’s a brief moment where they lock before we turn our heads, gazes landing on a very pissed-off looking Max.
Shit.
Trish is running up behind him, a look of dread on her face. “Max, knock it off,” she calls out as she comes up to his side, placing a hand on his arm like she knows he’s about to come unglued.
“What the hell is going on?” he repeats, his voice low and palpably angry. His eyes are narrowed into slits on us, face turning a bright shade of red.
“Dad, stop.” Colt steps forward, placing his body slightly in front of mine.
Max’s eyes slice over to his son. “I catch my best friend and my son making out, and you tell me to stop?” His chilling gaze darts to me, and my heart pounds harder in my chest. “What the fuck is happening, Will?”
Stepping forward, beside Colt, I hold out a hand and say, “We planned to tell you soon. This isn’t how we wanted you to find out.”
Trish’s hand comes up to cover her mouth. Our gazes meet for a moment, and for some reason, she doesn’t seem quite as surprised as her husband.
“You planned to tell me what, exactly?” Max grits out.
“Max, honey,” Trish cuts in. “Let’s go home, and we can all talk about this tomorrow when you haven’t been drinking.”
“No, Trish, I want to talk about it now,” he says roughly. “Planned to tell me what, Will?”
I drag in a deep breath, knowing whatever I say isn’t going to go over well with him. “Colt and I have been seeing each other for?—”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Will?” Max spits out, his face flushed red. “My fucking son? I thought we were friends?”
“We are friends.”
“It has nothing to do with you, Dad,” Colt blurts out, and my eyes fall closed as I bite down on my molars. Shut up, Colt .
Max scoffs, looking from his son to me. “He’s half your fucking age,” he bites out, then takes a step toward us. “Half your fucking age. You have known him since he was a fucking baby. What the fuck is wrong with you, Will? I trusted you.”
With each sentence, he steps closer until he’s right in front of us. Hands clenched into fists at his sides, I know whatever’s about to happen won’t be good.
“It’s not like that,” I say calmly, trying like hell to diffuse the situation.
“Whoa, hey!” Turning our heads, we all watch as Shooter jogs up to us, a drunk grin on his face, eyes bouncing between the three of us. “What’s going on here?”
“Not now, Shooter,” Max growls, his furious eyes never leaving mine. “What, did you think you could just fuck around with my son, and I’d be okay with it?”
Annoyance flares inside of me at the flippant way he says that. Like Colt’s nothing more than a notch on my belt. This isn’t how I wanted Max and Trish to find out, but in this single moment, I’m realizing that maybe this is okay. I’m sick of hiding Colt. Sick of hiding how much I care about him. “It’s not like that,” I grit out again, harsher this time. “If you’d fucking calm down and let me explain, maybe you’d understand.”
“I don’t need to understand anything because it’s fucking clear what’s going on. I thought you were a better fucking man than this, Will.”
Everything that happens next happens in a flash. One minute, Max is glaring down his nose at me, the next he’s got my shirt fisted in his hand as he rears back his other, landing a hit I don’t see coming right in my jaw. A round of collective gasps sounds around us, and all hell breaks loose. Max’s hold on my shirt drops as Colt steps between us, shoving his dad back with enough force that Max nearly falls over.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Colt growls. “You’re acting like a fucking idiot. William and I are both adults!”
Rubbing a hand along my jaw, knowing it’s probably going to bruise, I stand to my full height, wanting to make sure Colt doesn’t do anything he’ll regret, like deck his father back in my honor. That’s about the last damn thing we need.
“Max, let’s go home,” Trish barks behind him, clearly worried about the same thing.
Just then, Shooter steps in between us. “Let’s all take a breather, alright?” he says coolly. “William and Colt make each other happy, why does it matter?”
Stepping back, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Between Colt’s big mouth and Shooter’s, this isn’t going to end well. I can see Max getting madder by the minute.
“Max, please,” I try to plead with him. “Let’s call it a night like Trish said, and talk about this in the morning.”
“How long has this been going on?” he asks, ignoring everything I said.
“It’s… complicated.”
“How is it complicated? When the fuck did it start?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Technically, two years ago.”
His eyes widen. “Excuse me?”
“Oh dear,” I hear Trish murmur. Then she steps up, wrapping a hand around his forearm, tugging him back. “That’s enough, Max,” she says sternly. “It’s time to go. You’ve had too much to drink, and now isn’t the time to talk about this. We can talk about it when you’ve had a chance to cool off.”
“Trish, knock it off.”
“No, you knock it off!” I’m taken aback by her tone. Trish is many things, but feisty isn’t one of them. “You’re acting like a caveman right now, and it’s embarrassing. Get in the damn car with me before I make Conrad put you over his shoulder and carry you there.”
Shooter snorts. “Please do that.”
Colt snickers beside me.
“You know he will,” Trish threatens. “Now, let’s go, Max.”
Gaze dragging from Colt to me, I see the moment he decides to drop it. His shoulders relax, chest a little less puffed out. “Fine.”
They walk away, and I let out a breath I’d been holding.
Shooter laughs, turning around. “Well, that was fun.”
My eyes narrow as my pulse races. “You’re both idiots,” I blurt out.
“Hey, what did I do?” Colt asks with a chuckle.
“You don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, that’s what.”
“Oh, come on. My dad was being ridiculous. He hit you!”
Leveling Colt with a look, I say, “He just walked over and caught his best friend and his son making out. What exactly did you expect him to do? His reaction was pretty normal, all things considered.”
“He’s drunk,” Colt counters. “And acting like a hothead.”
Blowing out a breath, I run a hand through my hair. “It’s late,” I say. “I’m going to head home. I want to make sure Winnie isn’t too freaked out from the fireworks.”
“I’ll go with you,” Colt offers, grabbing my hand.
“You don’t have to do that.” Although, I would love it. “You’re here with your friends.”
“Yeah, but the night’s nearly over. I want to go home with you.” Then Colt shifts, his face twisting up. “I mean, only if you want me to.”
Uncertainty looks adorable on him. “Of course, I do. I’m just saying, you don’t have to if you aren’t ready to go.”
“I am,” he insists, and it warms my chest.
“Holy shit,” Shooter blurts out. “Colt is a kept man.” He laughs. “Never thought I’d see the fucking day. Bye, you two. I’m off to find my own man.” Taking a few steps, he stops and looks over his shoulder to add, “You’re welcome, by the way.”
My brows pinch together. “For what?”
“For stopping Max from kicking your ass.”
Shooter doesn’t wait for a response. He smirks before disappearing into the night.
“He wouldn’t have kicked my ass,” I grumble as Colt and I walk to my car.
“Sure, he wouldn’t have,” Colt teases.
I can’t deny how much better I feel knowing we’re at least out in the open now. Sure, my friend is pissed and hurt, rightfully so, and he may never forgive me—although, I hope he will—but at least we don’t have to hide anymore, and that’s still a win in my book.
The rest we can worry about later.