She pondered what he was saying but was still not certain the parallel he was trying to draw. He must have seen that she was not getting his meaning because he continued.
“I’m pissed that my dad never wanted to be my dad. But he’s never known me. He’s never seen me. So, he didn’t really reject me…he just rejected the idea of being a dad. I’m more pissed for you because it sounds like the only reason he wouldn’t be with you was that he didn’t think your family was the right kind of family.”
She gasped. “You heard grandma and me?”
Nodding, he said, “It’s okay, Mom. I’d rather know.” They were silent for a moment. He looked back up and held her gaze, his expression set. “But Grandma and Grandpa were perfect, and if his family didn’t like them because they didn’t have enough money, then they’re not the kind of people I want to be around anyway.”
Her heart clenched and she battled the desire to burst into big, sloppy sobs. She swallowed deeply then blew out her breath and smiled. “You know, for someone who’s not quite eleven years old, you’ve just said a mouthful, and it was more mature than a lot of people older than you."
He grinned, gave her a hug, and bounced off the sofa to go practice pitching in the backyard, and she once again thanked the heavens for the gift of her son.
Now it was evening, George was sleeping on his living room sofa, saying he was a little afraid to take the stairs that first night back at home, and Jack had already gone to bed a little early, exhausted. Sitting all alone on her front porch, Carrie was surprised to observe headlights coming down the street and then turning into her driveway.
Seeing the Sheriff’s SUV come to a stop, she smiled. As he approached, she said, “Good evening, Sheriff Hudson.”
He stopped at the bottom of the porch, one booted foot up on the first step, and leaned forward toward the rail. Grinning, he said, “Now, Carrie, you’ve been calling me Colt today.” Climbing the two steps to the porch, he stopped in front of her rocking chair, bent to place his hands on the arms of the chair, effectively trapping her, and said, “I finally made it to where you say my name. We’re certainly not going to go backward now.” Leaning forward, he kissed her.
This time, the kiss was not the brush of lips on lips. This time, he angled his head, taking the kiss deeper.
It had been a long time since she had been kissed like that. Actually, as the kiss hit her straight to her core, she could not remember if she had ever been kissed so thoroughly. He lifted his head, and she barely remembered to breathe.
“You okay?”
She shook her head slowly.
He lifted an eyebrow and asked, “Jack?”
She sighed and replied, “Everything.”
He stood and pulled her gently from the chair, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, tugged her in tight to his side, and walked her into her house. Guiding her to her sofa, he pulled her down next to him, angling their bodies so that they were facing each other, their legs touching and his arm still around her.
“You need to break the everything down for me, babe,” he encouraged.
She remembered he had called her ‘babe’ earlier when everything was going down with Peter, but she had barely had time for the endearment to register. Somehow, they had gone from Ms. Beaumont to Carrie to Babe all in one day. She had to admit, it felt nice. With Colt, it didn’t feel like a throwaway. Pushing that thought to the side, she said, “Who called you from the diner?”
“It was Joe. He told me that Jack demanded his phone, declaring that if someone was going to talk to you, he wanted me at your side.”
The knowledge that Jack, even at his age, had her back warmed her heart, and she blinked away the tears she could feel forming. She pushed that thought to the side as well.
Colt continued, “So, Joe called, and I was close by, which I was glad of. I never want you to feel like you have to face anything by yourself, especially not someone trying to take advantage of you.”
She nodded slowly, and he prodded, “Keep breaking it down for me, babe. What else are you thinking about?”
“Jack seems okay. We talked a lot when we got home, and he said some things that sounded very mature. He said it wasn’t like a father who had been around him for years and then left. He felt like his dad really didn’t reject him, he just rejected the idea of fatherhood.”
Colt’s eyebrows hit his hairline at that comment, and she almost smiled.
“You’ve got a fuckin’ smart kid, Carrie. And you did that, don’t ever forget that.”
Her smile curved her lips. “So, for now, he’s good. I think he’s going to think about it a lot, and at some point, he’s going to be pissed. He never once asked me for his dad’s name, but he’ll know it now. I’m actually okay with that. If he wants to talk to his dad at some time, he certainly can. In fact, I would encourage it.”
Colt smiled and asked, “Did the steam ever stop coming out of your mom’s ears?”
She giggled and realized it was the first time she had laughed all day. “I got her settled down. As you can imagine, she spent many years not caring for Peter. It wasn’t that my parents wanted Peter and me to get married, but the fact that he wanted me to have an abortion and then just walked away, never having anything to do with Jack or me after that…well, let’s just say that she’s never forgiven him.”
Colt ran his fingers through her hair and said, “So, George is settled. Your mom is settled. And Jack is in bed, and if not settled, at least doing okay for now. That only leaves you, babe. How are you doing?”
She sucked in her lips and dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap. “I guess it’s just embarrassing,” she said. Lifting her gaze back up to his face, she said, “I learned a long time ago to push past the embarrassment of being an unwed teen mother because I threw myself into being a mom. And ever since I first found out I was pregnant, I’ve loved him more than anything in the world. It’s been easy being his mom, even though it hasn’t been easy being a single mom. But, sometimes, I know there’s judgment in other people’s eyes.”
“Fuck ‘em, babe.”
Snorting, she said, “That’s easier said than done, Colt. Today I looked at the woman he did choose to marry. She could not be more different than me, and in a weird way, I guess that cuts a little bit.”
“Only cut it should be is for them, Carrie.”
She was quiet for a moment, and his hand drifted under her hair to her neck, his fingertips starting to massage away the tension that she had felt all day.
“What else?” he asked. “I want you to get it all out so that you’re not burying it deep inside.”
“It was also embarrassing with you.”
His fingers flexed slightly, and she knew she surprised him. She hurried to explain, “It was so wonderful to have you at my back. It was so wonderful to show him that I had a real man, a good man, who was standing right there with me. I’ve got no secrets, Colt, so there was really nothing you were going to hear that was embarrassing. I guess I just felt blindsided by it all, and that made me feel vulnerable.”
“Baby, it was an asshole move on his part. No doubt about it. It pissed me off and then when I realized who he was and what he was doing, that pissed me off even more,” Colt growled.
She smiled and lifted her hand up to cup his cheek. “You’re a good man.”
“Then if you think so, Carrie, we’re a good pair, because I think you’re a good woman.” With his arms banded around her, he pulled her so that she was sitting on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, their lips meeting once again.
He slid one hand to cup the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her long tresses. Tilting her head, he took possession of the kiss, his lips moving over hers. She sighed, and not missing the opportunity, he slid his tongue into her mouth.
The feel of his tongue tangling with hers had her nipples tingling and her legs pinching together, the desire for friction overwhelming. Their heads moved back and forth, and her hands gripped his sho
ulders, pulling him closer. She breathed him in, memorizing the scent of spice and something uniquely Colt.
He finally pulled back, leaning his head against the sofa, and groaned, “If I don’t stop, babe, I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to.”
She was breathing hard as well and leaned forward to rest her forehead against his. “I know. Jack may be crazy about you, but I don’t want him coming downstairs and finding me dry humping you on the sofa.”
He grinned widely and said, “Yeah, I’m not ready for Jack to see that either.” They sat, breathing each other in, just reveling in the quiet of the night. He finally stood, lifting her easily and setting her feet on the floor, keeping his hands around her waist. “I want to make reservations at the Sunset Restaurant in Baytown. What night can you get your mom to watch Jack?”
Looking up at him, her hands still on his shoulders, she said, “We can do it any time.”
“How about tomorrow night?”
Laughing, she said, “You don’t waste any time, do you?”
He held her gaze and said, “Babe, when there’s something you want, you go for it. I should’ve gone for you a long time ago. I held back, not because of you, but because of me. For reasons that we can get into another time when you’re not tired and vulnerable, and I don’t feel like kicking some certain politician’s ass. But just know that I held back because I figured you wouldn’t want a wreck like me. And maybe it’s selfish, but I’ve spent five years watching you smile, and I want to claim your smile for my own now.”
She leaned forward again, this time resting her forehead against his chest, hearing his strong heartbeat. He kissed the top of her head, and they walked to the front door together. Standing on the porch, they kissed like teenagers until he finally left, climbed into his vehicle, and pulled out of her driveway.
Carrie went inside, double-checked to see that the doors were locked and then crawled into bed. Her dreams were full of Colt again, but now, they were filled with the realness of his kisses.
15
This time, Carrie knew exactly what woke her up in the middle of the night. The sound of glass breaking. She threw back the covers and leaped out of bed, stumbling slightly as her brain raced to catch up with her feet. She darted across the hall, throwing the door open with such force that it banged on the wall, and Jack jumped.
Not wanting to scare him but wanting him to be prepared, she said, “Stay here. Don’t come down unless I call you but have your phone with you.” She grabbed the baseball bat that was next to his glove in the corner of the room and hurried to the top of the stairs.
The only noise she heard was the sound of Jack’s soft feet coming up behind her. Glancing back, she shook her head sharply and brought her finger up to her lips.
She crept halfway down the stairs, and with the illumination of the night light, she could easily see that there was no one in her living room and her front window had not been disturbed. The sound she had heard came from the front of the house, so her mind flew to George. Running to her window, she peeked through the curtain and saw taillights moving down the street rapidly.
“Mom, what is it?” Jack whispered from the top of the steps.
Turning to look up at him, she said, “I heard glass breaking from the front. I want to go check on George to make sure he’s okay. You stay there, just like before, and I’ll let you know if you should call someone.”
With her hand on the doorknob, she peeked through her security hole and saw nothing. Still, she opened the door with caution, but no one was there. As soon as she stepped outside and turned toward George’s front door, it was evident that it was his house that had been attacked. His front window was broken, and light was coming from his house.
Without hesitation, she ran the few feet back into her house, looked up at Jack, and yelled, “Call 9-1-1 again.” Hurrying to retrace her steps, she pounded on George’s door, crying out his name. Moving to the broken window, she reached through the jagged hole in the glass, careful not to cut herself, and pulled back the curtain so that she could see in. The light she had been able to see was actually flames.
“George! George!” she continued to scream, but no answer came in return. Realizing he may have taken something to help him sleep, she turned and ran back into her side of the duplex, yelling up to Jack that there was a fire next door. She raced to her kitchen and shoved her bare feet into her rubber garden boots, grabbing her leather garden gloves at the same time. She raced back through the house, out the front door, and to the front of George’s duplex. Grabbing the chair he often sat in, she slammed it through the broken window, breaking out as much of the remaining glass as she could, raking the metal chair along the bottom seal to rid it of the jagged edges.
Jerking back the curtains, she could see that George was now sitting up on his sofa, staring groggily before struggling to stand. With her hands encased in the leather gloves, she placed them on the windowsill and climbed over, her boots crunching the glass underneath the window. The flames were leaking up the wooden stairs and the walls on the back side of the living room.
Once inside, she unlocked his door and threw it open before whirling around to assist him. “Come on, George,” she encouraged as he staggered slightly.
She looked up and saw Jack standing in the doorway, and as soon as she maneuvered George close, Jack nudged his way under George’s other arm, allowing the older man to lean on him. They had just made it to the porch, the sound of sirens crying out once more in the night, and she looked up to see two fire trucks, two ambulances, three deputies’ cars, and the now-familiar Sheriff’s SUV pulling into their driveway.
Flames licked the front of the duplex, and Colt’s boots pounded up the gravel drive once more, only this time behind the firemen who were already pulling out their hoses. Forgoing all semblance of maintaining his professional cool, his heart beat wildly, only able to catch his breath when he saw Carrie, Jack, and George standing to the side of the driveway near her car. Safe! Jesus Christ, safe!
Jack was barefoot and in his pajamas. George was wearing a white T-shirt and drawstring pajama bottoms. Carrie was in a camisole and pajama shorts with her feet in ridiculous-looking dark green rubber boots with frog eyes on them.
When he rounded her car, they did not see him coming until he swept Carrie into his embrace, capturing Jack squished in between the two of them. Burying his face in her hair, he breathed her in. The feel of Carrie in his arms was all that was keeping him standing, but the scent of smoke in her hair had his rage building.
Pulling his head back, he scanned her and Jack from head to toe as she kept saying, “Colt, we’re fine. We’re fine.” She may have been proclaiming that they were safe, but as her body trembled, he knew she was anything but fine. She was half-naked, and as a paramedic came closer, he growled, “Get her a blanket.” With his arm still banded around her on one side and Jack on the other, he led them to the back of one of the ambulances, grateful when a blanket was handed to him, and he could wrap it around her. Bundling Jack in another blanket, he then turned to George.
It appeared that George was physically okay, just fighting mad. “I’ve been attacked in my goddamn house twice this week,” George groused, “and if it wasn’t for Carrie and Jack, I might not be alive now!”
Colt looked over Carrie’s shoulder and saw two of his deputies approaching. “What’s going on?” he asked, barely keeping his voice steady.
Carrie looked up and said, “I heard a—”
“Not you, babe.” He saw her brow scrunched, but he was looking past her shoulder as Deputy Mark Robbins walked up.
Mark answered, “An incendiary device was thrown through the front window of the left duplex.”
The group turned to see the firemen blasting water on the first-floor fire of George’s house. Looking at Mark, he ordered, “Stick with the Fire Chief. I want to know what kind of incendiary device was used. And as soon as you can get in there, keep working with him to get all the evidence we can.”
She nodded and said, “The sound of breaking glass woke me up. It sounded like it was near the front of the house, but not my house. I made sure Jack was awake and had the phone in case we needed to call for help and then I went downstairs. I could easily see that my front window was fine, so I went outside to check on George.”
“You went outside?” Colt bit out. “You didn’t call for help first?”
She shook her head slowly, appearing slightly dazed, and said, “I looked through my peephole, and there was no one there. When I checked my front window to make sure it wasn’t broken, I saw taillights going down the street so I figured whoever had been there was gone.”
“What then?”
“I knew George was sleeping in his living room because he took a sleeping pill and said that he thought he’d sleep on the downstairs sofa, a little afraid to traverse the stairs the first night he was back. I could see that his window was broken, and I could see the flames coming up. I ran back to tell Jack to call 9-1-1. Then I got my boots and my gardening gloves so that I could get into George’s house without cutting myself on the broken glass.”
Eyebrows hitting his hairline, he asked, “You went into George’s house?”
She cocked her head to the side, her nose slightly scrunched, and said, “Of course. I had to get George out. I took one of the chairs and knocked the rest of the glass out so that I could crawl over the windowsill.”
The idea of Carrie going into a burning house sliced through him, and he wanted to roar in frustration. He did not attempt to hide his ire but watched as Jack moved next to Carrie, slid his arm around his mom’s waist, and held his stare.
“Mom’s a hero,” Jack declared, looking up at him as though Colt needed convincing.
Our Time (Baytown Boys Book 11) Page 12