32. Colton
THIRTY-TWO
COLTON
ONE MONTH LATER.
Forrest is a fucking monster, and though he ran off without a trace, one day I believe he will be forced to own up to what he’s done.
If I ever see that man, he’s as good as dead.
One thing that Forrest was wrong about was signing all of the property over to Kinleigh’s name, which she made me privy to during my captivity.
I suppose he thought that’d tie those women’s disappearances, kidnappings, captivities—all of it—to her. I guess he forgot that he is a complete piece of shit who beat her within an inch of her life. The whole “big bad sex trafficker” really holds no weight when a hungry, beaten, pale Kinleigh tells her story.
She owns it all now, in the free and clear, and Forrest Conway has no right to anything. Not around these two pieces of property, at least.
The Buffalo Trails’ sheriff's department is under investigation with the state of Wyoming, whatever that means.
Truth is, I’m not concerned with any of that. Forrest, the sheriffs, anything. I’m looking ahead at my life with Kinleigh.
The past is just that—the past.
Today is a great fucking day.
I’m still getting cuffed to my bed when we make love, but she’s making so much progress still. And today will help.
I hook my finger in the blinds and tug them back. “They’re coming,” I call out, knowing Kin is waiting for those words. Likely in the hall pacing.
She appears, cheeks red, eyes misty. Her golden hair waves around her face, her hand nervously playing with the ends at her breast. “I’m ready,” she says, but her voice is quiet.
“You are ready, but it’s okay to be sad, too.” I don’t know if those are the right words, but they’re true. Her relationship with him was so poisonous that she sees two doctors weekly in order to recover both mind and body. She’s so strong that if I think too long and hard about how incredible she is, I want to drop to one knee and propose.
We’re not ready.
We’re doing big things.
I lick my lips and swallow hard around the emotion lingering low in my throat. “Mourn what you lost, even if they were just dreams,” I tell her before pulling her into me, though she seems to sink. My arms wrap her easily and I hold her against me until she’s calm and ready to go.
We ride our horses to her father’s property. The crew has been paid and told to wait until they have the word. But we aren’t making them wait, and I didn’t think we would. I know she’s ready for this.
The ride is slow and gentle. We don’t push our animals or ourselves, knowing that even though peace is on the other side of this, we’ll have to experience some despair to get there.
I don’t want her thinking about what happened in that house, but I know she will. It’s inevitable.
Upon arrival, we dismount, and Kinleigh slips her hand into mind, letting her head crash into my bicep. Her other hand comes to weave through my fingers. Both of her hands holding just one of mine is a strange high, one I know instantly that I’m addicted to. Without a doubt.
My cock twitches. I can’t help it.
“Hello,” I greet the foreman approaching, his hard hat secured with a chin strap. He slips off his protective glasses as his gloved hand dips into mine.
“Hi, Mr. Beckett?”
I nod. “Yes, and this is Kinleigh Conway, the property owner.”
He holds a clipboard out to her, which she takes, signing before he can give his speech. He blinks at me, brows pulled together. “Are you sure?” he asks, glancing back at Kinleigh.
She nods. “To the ground.”
A chill runs up my spine and she holds me tighter. He holds it to his chest, gives us a nod and heads toward the crew. She looks up at me, blinking at the morning sun glowing behind me.
She looks beautiful in morning sunlight, her eyes are so clear, and her mind is so free. Sometimes nights are harder, and nightmares visit. I hold her tight, press a damp towel to her head and get her in new clothes and the sheets changed when the terror sweats hit. We get through it because she is my entire soul. I draw her into me and kiss her lips, not caring what this construction crew thinks of us making out while a home is completely destroyed.
But I hold her and we kiss, and we don't stop kissing. Her tongue curls around mine, her moans engulfing me, bringing warmth in the cold. Last night, while Kinleigh was at the stove making fried steaks, I rode out here with two folding chairs and set them out. Now, I feed my fingers into hers and guide us to those chairs, swiping my hand along the seats to push out debris from the night.
We settle into our chairs facing the property, our hands together but in my lap, against my thigh and cock, and we watch. Walls crumble, windows shatter, pieces of furniture go from capable to timber in a matter of moments. It’s perfect. The entire house—still fully furnished—is destroyed, and while we sit watching, we plan.
“A new wraparound porch,” she muses aloud as the wind carries a strand of her golden hair across her face and lips. She tugs it away, smiling at me, the groggy sunrise the perfect backdrop to her shining beauty. “Rocking chairs, lacquer paint, shutters, flowers….” she says, listing all of the things that comprise our dream home. I nod along, not sharing that I’ve seen the house she’s describing in my dreams. In my darkest moments, my mind took me on a journey to help forget the torture my body had been through.
And this house she’s describing, it’s what I’d seen.
We’d be there, too, of course, with our hands all over each other, looking over what we’ve created with proud happiness flowing between us.
I don’t tell her those things as we watch her childhood home turn to dust, nothing more than rubble and particles to be carried far away by the wind.
Instead we sit and we plan, and Kinleigh even mentions the idea of having a main house rebuilt alongside another home, one that we could run as a healing sanctuary for trafficking victims. I’m in awe that in her state of healing she wants to help others heal, that she wants to open a place that benefits others. “No charge,” she’d adds.
Right then and there I fall in love with Kinleigh all over again.
“I figure if I sell off some of Forrest’s land, we’ll have enough to run it for a few years. Then… well, I don’t know.” She smiles up at me, the tip of her nose pink from the early morning chill. “What do you think?”
I blink at her and smile. “I think it’s a great idea.”
And I really do.