Chapter 20
Twenty
Colin
22 Years Old
A slow sigh of relief left Colin’s lungs as he sank into the pressure. The ropes tied around his thighs and ankles were wound tight enough to give him relief, but not so tight he lost blood flow. He had practiced enough that he’d perfected the amount of constriction needed to forget he was ever uncomfortable in his own skin. When he had first taken up shibari, everything was sloppy, and he had almost thrown out his therapist’s suggestion because if there was one thing he hated, it was being bad at something. If he couldn’t catch on, then he gave up. Most things had a clear measure of success. They were solvable. They could be mastered. Yes, you could technically improve at everything, but Colin was happy learning a new skill, getting it to the point it needed to be, and leaving it there, finished.
The only time that frame of mind didn’t work was with Scarlett. Not even at eighteen. He was always striving for better when it came to their experiment. With his leukemia research —which he could freely admit now he had fixated on because of Scarlett—he couldn’t simply stop at a job well done or a lab completed. Unless he found a cure and it well and truly worked, he would be stuck searching for one forever. That unknown didn’t scare him like the ambiguous things usually did. It strengthened him and forged a connection to his work. He should have chosen that same route with his relationship with Scarlett and just found a way to work around all the bad things, but at the time he couldn’t see a way through it. Even what he was doing now, lying on the floor in his room with sensory knots entangling his legs, was a way through one of the things he had to deal with. Being able to withstand wet clothes would be a swell characteristic to have given that Oregon could turn on you at any moment, but he had accepted that he would always have to immediately change and do something to calm his nerves. Rain at a funeral, after all, made sense.
If there was ever a time to feel uncomfortable, it was while wearing black in a cemetery just a few days before Christmas. It had been five years since Colin had had to endure a funeral ceremony, but even with the painful memory of his parents, he hadn’t expected to feel heartbroken over someone he didn’t know. If he was going to feel something, he thought that Scarlett would be the one that drew that out of him. He hadn’t seen her once since the coffee shop, and he thought the sight of her alone might bring him to his knees. He had thought about her hidden tears a million times since he’d bought Theo’s painting. He wondered just how many more he might cause once he started showing up regularly to her studio with an excuse that was good, but wouldn’t make his presence hurt any less.
Colin doubted that Scarlett had met Isabel Castillo, and he figured she was simply there as a support system for her sister, who was Isabel’s granddaughter-in-law, but Scarlett cried easily. It was one of the things he loved about her. She displayed exactly what she was feeling. From tears to stuttering and reddened cheeks, he had memorized the way she reacted to things. He realized now that part of it was a camouflaging technique to constantly collect data on how she was feeling so he could appropriately respond, but most of it was just because he cared. He simply wanted to know what things hurt her and what things brought her joy. It was why when he had known Scarlett would be attending the funeral and the mercy meal Walker and Talia were hosting, he had gone out and bought some of her favorite things. He had researched which watercolor paints were the best and which brushes were perfect for her work.
There hadn’t been a chance at the funeral to give the paint supplies to Scarlett, so he had held off for the mercy meal that would be starting soon. At the actual funeral, he had spent most of his time consoling Piper, who had shed a few tears during the ceremony when she thought no one was looking. Piper had met Isabel. Not only that, but like some fucked-up family trait she had gotten from Walker, everyone seemed to know that Piper was in love with Isabel’s grandson but Piper. She and Leo had spent a good portion of high school and all of college openly despising each other, but the tides had shifted. Today Leo had spent the service standing stone-faced beside his family as Piper looked on miserably, and Colin knew what she must be thinking, because he was thinking the same thing. He wanted to be beside Scarlett.
In the end, though, it wasn’t Scarlett or Piper or Leo who had made his eyes water. What socked him in the chest was Lucia Diaz, who had stood near her mother’s casket, pressed a hand into the wood, and told everyone that her mother wasn’t perfect, but she was kind. That Isabel Castillo was a good person who had tried her very best. And, finally, that Isabel, Lucia’s own mother, was her best friend.
It was the very same thing Colin’s parents had been to him. His best friends. They had failed him spectacularly, and yet it still didn’t change the fact that they had tried their very best. Even flawed as they were and with all the things they had missed, they were good and kindhearted people who were also capable of making mistakes.
Colin’s siblings and Walker had immortalized Cole and Paisley because they were everyone’s heroes. His siblings didn’t have the added struggle of wondering why they were fundamentally different, while Colin had spent his entire childhood struggling over his inability to make friends. He was left confused as to how he had managed to make his mom cry over his reaction to a Christmas present she had bought him one year. He was left to agonize over what could be said aloud and what had to be cloaked in social niceties. How long to look into someone’s eyes before it could pass as a normal interaction. Why half his clothes felt sensitive and rubbed raw against his skin. Why loud sounds felt like they traveled under his skin and through his veins to make his heart beat out of time with his body while his head triggered an immediate fight-or-flight response against the onslaught of overstimulation. Through all of this, his parents had consoled him and accommodated his peculiarities. And yet, there was a very valid and real explanation for it all. Knowledge was power, and Colin had been deprived of that power.
The resentment Colin had harbored for his parents after his diagnosis felt equal parts reasonable and ridiculous. They were dead, and he would give anything for them to be alive once more, yet he couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t let go of his anger. The distance he placed between his family and himself when he moved to Maryland, not just in miles but in communication, was strategic. Besides his journey to self-worth, he was also terrified to talk about his parents outside of therapy, so he kept to himself, coming back only for holidays until slowly, over time, the resentment eased. It wasn’t gone completely, but he found himself considerably less angry once he had examined his own faults. The distance he had created between himself and his family was a fault. The way he had left Scarlett was so reactionary he was sure that to her it had felt out of the blue, out of character, and altogether mean-spirited. In his heart of hearts, he knew it was the opposite.
A knock pulled Colin’s gaze toward the door where his brother Cooper was standing. “Walker, Tal, and Amala want our help downstairs with some of the food trays.” Out of anyone he had left behind, he always felt the worst about Cooper. He had been the youngest of their siblings at eight years old when their parents died, and looking back, it probably seemed that Colin had just up and abandoned him. Now Cooper was newly a teenager, and Colin had missed so much that he wasn’t sure how to talk to him.
“Why are you tied up like you’ve been abducted?” Cooper asked.
“It helps with my sensory issues. It’s called shibari,” Colin explained as he began to unravel himself.
Cooper scrunched his face. “Isn’t that a… sex thing?” The word ‘sex’ was mumbled, as if his brother could barely say it. While Colin never really had a problem saying anything aloud, he knew enough about teenagers (and Scarlett) to understand that people were often embarrassed to bring things out in the open.
“Kind of. It’s a Japanese bondage tactic to display the body. I don’t use it to display anything, though. I just use it to calm the fuck down.” Colin held his tongue on the thought that he definitely would use it for sexual purposes if the opportunity arose. He would rather do the tying, though, because tying the knots was entertaining, and he would love to see his handiwork on someone else. “My therapist back in Maryland was progressive and really into Reddit, where apparently there’s an entire community of people using it just as a self-soothing tactic.” Colin had been weirded out by the idea at first, but then opted to try it after a day of feeling so touch starved that he wanted to claw his own skin off.
“I think I would just feel like I’d been abducted by a serial killer,” Cooper said with a shrug.
“You watch way too many serial killer documentaries with Talia.” Colin chuckled, finally getting the final knot out and wrapping the rope up.
“You say that, but do you know all the ways to get out of the trunk of a killer’s car? Because I do. Dateline has prepared me for every possible outcome. Also, Roscoe let me, Jayla, and Camden practice in the trunk of his cop car.” Cooper proudly set his shoulders back. His messy blond hair sprouted up in the same spot Colin had had a cowlick before he managed to get a good enough haircut. Cooper looked a lot like him, especially when Colin was younger, but he had a slight auburn tint to his hair.
“That sounds like fun?” Colin asked, unsure if that was the intent.
“It was. Cam didn’t realize that he wasn’t supposed to actually shut the trunk, and he was stuck in there for like five minutes yelling about how he had to pee before Roscoe had to come let him out. It was hilarious.” Cooper’s grin was so wide that Colin matched it with a smaller version. His brother had made good friends, which made him feel a bit less guilty for staying away.
They made their way out into the hallway and to the staircase before either of them said anything, Colin taking the first stab. “So, are you and Jayla dating? Because of that one time you kissed her?” A hand slapped against his mouth, and Colin jerked back in surprise.
“ Shhh ,” Cooper hissed, his eyes blown wide. “She’s my best friend, so that’s not— no, we aren’t dating.” He released his hand from Colin’s mouth and craned his neck to peek farther down the stairs. “Her mom is downstairs, and Walker has been basically stalking us lately.”
Colin lowered his voice. “Why does being someone’s best friend hinder you from liking them romantically? Scarlett was my best friend at the same time she was my girlfriend.”
“Yeah, but you haven’t known her since she was eight, and she didn’t kiss you in a friendzone way,” Cooper muttered, running a hand through his hair. It was the same nervous tic thing Colin, their dad, and Walker did, and it was weirdly refreshing to see Cooper doing it.
Colin’s eyebrows rose. “I wasn’t aware friendzoned kissing was a thing. That seems incredibly nuanced. So, you don’t like her romantically, then?”
“I think you’re the first person to ask me that directly. Walker asks me weird in-between questions or says things like,” Cooper dropped his tone into an impression of a gruffer, manly voice, “‘you and Jayla seem really close.’”
“I don’t dance around anything. It’s a waste of time,” Colin said. “And you didn’t answer the question.”
“It doesn’t matter because she doesn’t like me like that.”
Colin considered that for a moment and shrugged. “Maybe. I still like Scarlett, and she doesn’t like me back, but at least I can deal with my own emotions because I know what they are. What’s your answer?”
“You’re very good at interrogations. Ever thought about becoming a private investigator or detective?” Cooper asked.
“Nope. I like my job,” Colin said. “Answer the question.”
“You drive a hard bargain, and I—” Cooper literally tried to skirt past him and flee, so Colin stuck out his arm to clothesline his little brother, his arm jabbing into Cooper’s throat. Cooper coughed and gave him a look of betrayal before he wheezed out his response. “Jesus. Yes, okay? Happy? Don’t tell anyone. I’m hoping that feeling just,” Cooper used his hand to flick the air, “goes away.”
“How long have you had this feeling?” Colin couldn’t hide the amusement from his face. For once, he might be the first person to outright know something about how one of his family members was feeling.
“You are extremely nosy for someone who barely kept in touch for the last four years,” Cooper grumbled. The guilty pit in Colin’s stomach grew two sizes, and the levity he had been feeling in the conversation disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
“I know. I’m sorry. I should have, but I really thought all of you were better off without me and my issues.” Colin looked down at the floor and shoved his hands into his pockets.
Cooper shook his head. “You knew all of us were struggling, and you made sure we lost you, too.” The knife Colin hadn’t realized had slipped between his ribs twisted. With an angry point down the stairs, Cooper raised his eyebrows up. “Can I go now?”
Colin swallowed, unable to say anything as he nodded and moved to the side to let Cooper past. A hand involuntarily went to his hair, and he ran his fingers through it as he watched Cooper do the exact same thing at the bottom of the steps before disappearing around the corner. Colin was frozen to the top stair, unable to move and wanting to throw up. The best he could do was sit down, so he did just that. He hadn’t realized how badly he had fucked up. There was still a large part of him that did believe everyone was better off without him, but he had told himself time and time again that that wasn’t true. Now, confronted with the fact that they were not, in fact, better off without him, he hadn’t realized it would hurt like this. Like years of lost time. In the same way he felt about losing Scarlett, he had lost so much time to thinking that no one would want him.
“Colin?” Walker was halfway up the staircase when Colin noticed his presence. “Is it too loud? Everyone’s starting to show up. I know you don’t really know anyone. If you want to put your headphones on, I’m sure people would?—”
“No,” Colin breathed. “I’ll be present.”
Walker’s face softened. “Did Coop say something to you?”
“Yes,” Colin admitted.
“Scoot over,” Walker directed, and Colin slid to one side of the top step. “You have to remember that Cooper is thirteen. So, whatever he said, it feels ten times as big for him because of puberty.”
That statement should have eased the pain in Colin’s chest, but, surprisingly enough, his tendency to accept facts at face value did not toss him a life jacket this time. So Colin squeezed his eyes shut and repeated back what Cooper had said, before noting, “I think he meant it.”
A slow nod of Walker’s head confirmed it. “He can only see his world through a small funnel. He can’t see the big picture or any of the struggles you had to get through. You were diagnosed, and you immediately went to college. I thought about telling you to take a gap year to figure everything out, but I had already told you so many times to not put your life on hold because of your parents’ death, and I wasn’t sure if backtracking on that was the right move. Then you kind of shut us out. I did my best to insert myself into your life as much as I could, but I was more worried that you thought we didn’t want you than you not wanting us. Was I… right to be worried about that?”
Colin swallowed and nodded. The air felt suddenly thick with pressure, and the tightening at his nose indicated he might cry for the first time in a long time.
Walker sighed. “Well, you’re back, so you must have figured out that that’s not true. What changed?”
“It wasn’t one thing in particular,” Colin answered. “It was a bunch of tiny little facts that made up a whole. At some point, I couldn’t take a step back to look at all those facts and not see what was obvious. No matter how hard I am to love, you all still seem to like me.”
“I don’t know about that.” Walker shifted beside him. “I don’t find it hard to love you at all. It’s intentional, sure, to make an effort, but I think the way we love you is the fact itself. It’s not the conclusion from all the things we do, it’s the reason we do any of the things. And the reason we love you is not because of anything you did. We’d love you regardless of what you do, though I did miss all of your puns. Not so much a fan of the making me run every morning, though. Hate that.”
Colin chuckled. “You were already running every day.”
“Keeping up with you requires more energy, and I’ve basically been pulling that energy out of my ass,” Walker laughed.
The urge to cry left, and Colin felt a bit lighter. He saw several people walk by the staircase, and it made him wonder if Scarlett was already here, somewhere, standing at her sister’s side. Instead, he said to Walker, “It was nice of you to host this. I know I don’t know the Diazes well, but they seem like good people. I liked what Lucia said about her mom. And Piper obviously likes Leo.”
“Ah, that was my original reason for coming up the stairs, actually. Lucia got here a bit ago and asked where Leo was and, of course, he’s in Piper’s room. I get the pleasure of breaking up whatever the hell they’re doing in there.” Walker grimaced.
“Leo doesn’t bother me the way Harden did,” Colin said. Piper’s high school boyfriend was the source of one very eventful night for him that he wished he could redo half of.
“Between you and me, Leo is the only one of Piper’s—whatever the hell he is to her—that I actually like.” Walker stood up and brushed at his black slacks. “Assuming they aren’t doing something nefarious in her bedroom right now.”
“Good luck.” Colin rose to his feet.
“Good luck to you as well,” Walker said. When Colin raised his eyebrows, Walker patted his back. “Scarlett’s here.”