With Mia, I forget that I carry this load, but the feeling comes right back when I’m not with her. It feels like at some point, the weight will inevitably crush me.
Nick and I pull into our parents’ driveway a few minutes later, the memories from that day rushing back like they’re being chased. I’ve rarely stepped into this house since then. I haven’t wanted to, haven’t needed to, but here I am.
Kaitlyn pulls up next to us as I shut off the car. I get out, wanting to get this over with. All I have to do is play a role, pretend to be a family just long enough to make it through dinner.
Shit, I can’t believe I’m stuck here when I could be with my girl.
MIA
I get out of the shower and step into my room. My clothes, which took me two hours to choose, are laid out on the bed. I’ve had this stupid smile plastered on my face since Colton asked me on a date. A real date! Cue the music and twirling around like a princess that has just found her prince. Seriously, cheesiest imagery, but it depicts exactly how I’m feeling at this very moment.
I’m shaking my butt to the most upbeat music I could find. I’ve gone all out for this date – hair soon to be done, nails done, everything done. I felt the occasion called for it. An incoming text message interrupts my music. I set down the wand, and move to my nightstand. Colton’s name is on the screen, and I unlock the phone to open the message, excited to see what he has to say.
‘Can’t make it. Raincheck?’
That’s all it says—four words that instantly sour my mood. I turn off the wand, put my clothes away, and change the song. I’m not feeling fancy anymore—just stood up.
“This calls for another date with Channing Tatum,” I say out loud to no one. I throw on my go-to Frozen pants, and a t-shirt, ready to be as comfortable as I can. Kiya and Blake are out tonight, which likely means she won’t be coming back to the house.
Crap. It’s been a while since I’ve spent a Saturday night alone in my apartment. I’ve spent the last God knows how many Saturdays hanging out with either Kiya or Colton or both. Even Zack and Blake sometimes become part of the group. It’s crazy how much things have changed in the last couple of months. Saturday nights alone watching TV used to be my refuge—something I’d look forward to at the end of a hectic week. But now I look forward to something entirely different.
As I sit on the couch, settling in for a night to myself, I can see how much of me I’ve already given to Colton, despite my attempts to hold back. He consumes my thoughts from the moment I wake until I go to sleep. It serves me right. He canceled on me thirty minutes before he was supposed to pick me up like it was nothing. I guess it doesn’t mean as much to him as it does to me.
He says raincheck.
I say reality check.
20
COLTON
“How’s school been?” my father asks, completely clueless as to what’s been going on in our lives. Nick and Kaitlyn start telling him about their classes. Kaitlyn thinks one of her professors hates her. She whines and complains about her sorority, and how some of her sisters are petty. Nick jokes about going to too many parties and having his pick of girls. At least dad thinks he’s joking. I know he isn’t.
“That’s wonderful, darling,” Adaline says in a sweet manufactured tone after Nick and Kaitlyn finish updating them on their lives.
A guttural sound escapes my mouth without me being able to control it. I grab the beer I’ve been nursing since this dinner started and finish it in one draw. It’s not enough to get me through this charade unscathed, but it’s what I have. I can’t drink anything more, though. I need to be able to drive myself out of here if need be.
“Everything okay, Colt?” my dad asks. I guess he’s finally noticed my discomfort.
“He’s fine. Just being his usual grumpy self,” my mother answers before I can.
“You would know,” I mutter under my breath.
“What was that?” my dad asks again, clueless as always.
“Ignore him,” Adaline cuts me off. I guess she’s afraid of what I may say. She should be.
“Anyway,” Kaitlyn says, sensing the shift in the mood. The tension is so thick you can cut it with a knife.
“Dad, your birthday is coming up! You’re going to be an old man,” my brother jumps in after Kaitlyn.
“Better with age,” Dad responds, and I feel bad for him.
“Handsome as ever,” Adaline adds.
“Fuck this,” I say, pushing the chair from under me and sending it scraping along the floor.
“Colt, where are you going?” my dad asks, and I pity him. His nose is so deep in work that he forgets to look around and see what’s right in front of his face. I don’t respond, turning from them.
“Colton Hunter, sit back down!” Adaline screeches like a pathetic child stomping her foot when she isn’t getting what she wants.
Fuming, I disregard her command and saunter toward the living room, desperate to get outside and leave this place. If I don’t ever return, it’ll be too soon.
“Come back here before you regret it!”
“I do regret it! Every day!” I shout back, turning to face her. “Do you?”
My father follows me into the living room. “What do you mean?”
I see Kaitlyn and Nick on their feet confusion visible on their faces. They don’t know why I’m acting like this, and if they did, they’d understand. Not just that, but they would be running out of here too.
“Just ignore him,” Adaline says, standing beside my father and interlocking her fingers with his.
“Yes, please. Go ahead and do what you’ve been doing for the last couple of years. Ignore what’s right in front of you!” I yell back, and although I pity my father, I also blame him. He should have paid more attention.
“Colton Hunter!” my mother screams, like the level of her voice might make me change my mind. I’ve kept quiet long enough, and while I know that I can’t say what I want to say, I also won’t sit here and pretend to be the perfect family.
I hightail it out of there, get in my car and speed off. My blood is boiling. I’m so angry I can see red. Without realizing it, I’ve stopped my car outside Mia’s house, my mind telling me that I need to be with her. Somehow, she’s become my ultimate destination, the only person who can help me deal.
I park on the curb, staring up at Mia’s illuminated living room window. I can’t see her like this though; I’m still so fucking angry. She deserves better—so much better. I know she’s too good for me, but I’m too selfish to let her go.
I glance around, spotting a bar close by. One drink would take the edge off. One drink to make the anger subside. One drink and then I can see Mia.
My Mia.
MIA
A loud knock startles me awake, and I almost fall off the couch. I really need to stop falling asleep in the living room. I hesitantly get up and head to the door. Kiya’s probably forgotten her keys.
I open it to find Colton looking back at me.
“You need to ask who it is before opening the door,” he says, slurring his words. I can smell the Jack on his breath, and the memories it brings are not pleasant ones.
I cross my arms. “Hi to you too.” Who the hell does he think he is showing up at my doorstep drunk after canceling our date and trying to tell me what to do?
“I’m serious, Mia. What if it had been a thief? Or someone worse?” he sternly says.
“It wasn’t, so there.” I puff out my chest and maintain eye contact, daring him to say anything else. I should be the one upset with him. I wasn’t the one who bailed tonight. He was. If anyone should be asking questions, it should be me.
“It could have been.”
“Yes, Colton. It could have, but it wasn’t.” I sigh and slowly begin closing the door. I can’t deal with a wasted Colton right now. After tonight, I don’t even know whether I’d like to deal with a sober Colton either.
“Wait, what are you doing?” He holds the door, preventing me from shutting
it in his face.
“I’m going to bed. You’re drunk. I’m upset. I don’t think we’d have the best conversation right now.” I attempt to shut the door again, but his arm doesn’t give.
“I’m sorry I canceled our date at the last minute,” he says, his gaze holding me in place.
“I don’t know if I am,” I respond and I mean it. I’ve gotten too close to the heat and today was likely a warning that I should back up before I get burned.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’d rather have this conversation when you’re sober.”
“Don’t shut me out, Mia. Please. Let me in?” he asks and the problem is I already have. He looks pleadingly at me and I move away from the door, heading to the couch again.
“You’re watching Magic Mike again?”
“He kept me company tonight while someone I was supposed to go out with bailed last minute.” I eye him suspiciously. “And apparently partied somewhere else.” I know my tone is accusatory, but I can’t help it.
“That guy sounds like an asshole,” he says with a small smirk.
I keep it short and ignore the effect his smile has on me. “Yup.”
“He’s sorry.”
“Sorry he asked me out? Sorry he bailed? Why are you here anyway?” I put all my questions out there at once. Let’s get this over with.
“Not sorry I asked you out, trust me. I’d rather have been with you than where I was. And, I’m here because I had to deal with some shit, and you were the only person I wanted to see after—the only person I wanted to talk to.”
His words start melting the wall I had spent the last few hours building.
“Did the crap you had to deal with involve getting hammered?”
“I… Shit this looks bad, but I needed something to numb me be… before… before I came to see you.”
Ouch.
I don’t have a poker face, so Colton must see how I’m feeling and adds, “I wanted to be less angry when I showed up at your place.”
“Are you angry with me?”
“Never. I’m angry at everyone else.” He sits next to me on the couch, our legs pressed against one another, leaving no space between us. I can sense he wants to talk to me, but I don’t push him. I know he’ll share with me when he’s ready.
“I was at my parents’ tonight,” he says, kicking off his shoes. He lays on his back and places his head in my lap, resuming the same position as the last time we’d talked about parents.
Instinctively, I start playing with his hair.
“I was getting ready to pick you up when Adaline called.”
“Adaline?” I ask, feeling both curious and jealous.
“My mother,” he answers. He says ‘mother’ like it hurts to push that word out, to call her that. I look down at him, seeing the tension in his jaw. I caress his face and watch his eyes close and then open once more.
“She called about a last-minute family dinner and I couldn’t say no.”
“It makes sense. You’d want to take advantage of spending time with your family. I see why you would feel like you couldn’t say no.”
“No,” he says tightly. “I didn’t want to go. I never do. And even less so when I already had plans with you. But I can’t say no.”
“Okay,” I wonder why he feels like he can’t say no.
“Can I trust you?”
I can hear the vulnerability in his voice. I see his eyes searching mine for an answer.
“Yes,” I say softly, confirming what he already knows. If he thought he couldn’t trust me, he wouldn’t have said anything. “But you don’t have to. You don’t have to tell me anything you—”
“I want to. I need to,” he says, cutting me off. Seeing him laying down on my lap like this, asking me to listen to him shows me a whole different side of him—one I knew was lying beneath the surface, but many don’t get to see. It’s difficult for him, but he’s trying to let me in, trying to let me help him, and I want nothing more than to help push away the shadows clouding his eyes. And while they are still beautiful, I know they hold pain. A lot of pain. Because I know that look. It’s the same look I sometimes have, yet work so hard to hide.
He takes in one giant breath. “I walked in on my mother having sex with another man,” he says, spitting the words out as quickly as he can.
“I’m so…” I don’t finish the sentence because he doesn’t need or want my pity. All he wants is someone to talk to, someone that won’t judge him. “Did you tell anyone?” I ask.
“Yeah, you,” he says, and I immediately realize the weight he’s been carrying and how strong he is for carrying it alone. The physical strength he has fades in comparison. I continue playing with his hair, trying to comfort him. I try and give him whatever strength I can spare, whatever he needs.
“Does she know?”
“Oh, she knows,” he says bitterly. His anger is returning, and I know that this conversation killed the buzz he came in with. His words are coherent, and his eyes are clearer.
“Not only does she know, but she won’t let me tell anyone,” he adds.
“How can she stop you?”
“She’s a… she said Nick and Kaitlyn are not my dad’s biological kids.”
If I had a glass in my hand, it would have dropped and shattered.
“She told me if I said anything, she’d tell dad and he’d kick them out. I can’t do that to Nick and Kaitlyn. They’ve suffered enough by having a shitty mother, and a father who’s always too busy. If Dad finds out, he might stop paying for their schooling. They won’t graduate, they won’t finish their degrees, and they’ll probably spiral out of control—more than they already have. I just can’t put them through this,” he says.
I feel a pain in my chest. His pain has somehow become mine and my heart breaks for him.
“You think she’s telling the truth?” I ask, hoping she could be lying. I know a thing or two about horrible parents, but how a mother can threaten her own child with ruining the life of her other kids just doesn’t fit in my head.
“I don’t know, but it’s too risky to call her bluff.”
“You’re … amazing,” I say, voicing my thoughts.
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, Mia. I’m a coward.”
“You’re watching out for your brother and sister. They’re lucky to have you.”
He rolls his eyes dismissing my comment. I can’t believe he doesn’t realize the strength it takes to shield everyone else from the bullets while taking the hits.
“So, Adaline called today and summoned us all for dinner. She tried to have us behave like a happy family, and I couldn’t fucking do it,” he continues.
“Did you tell them?” Maybe that’s why he showed up looking so unlike the put together Colton we all see.
“I almost did, but instead I walked out like the coward I am,” he says again, and I know he believes it.
“You’re not,” I insist, knowing it’s falling on deaf ears.
“So, I drove and drove and ended up outside your apartment. I walked to a bar and had a few drinks and then came back to you. Because you give me strength,” he says, grabbing the hand I was using to play with his hair and bringing it to his lips. He kisses every fingertip slowly, and I know it’s his way of thanking me for listening.
“Colton,” I say, trying to bring him back. I know he feels exposed after talking to me. I know he wants a distraction.
“Hmm?” he says between kisses.
“Colton.”
He lifts himself up and captures my lips in a kiss. I want to return it, but I know I shouldn’t—not right now.
“Please,” he whispers, sensing my hesitation. The vulnerability in his eyes reels me in and I kiss him back fervently. Our lips devour one another. I put it all in the kiss, hoping that through it, I can show him I’m here for him. I kiss him hoping that two people who have been broken by life can help put each other back together.
We
spend the rest of the night laying on the couch, watching movies and kissing. Neither one of us says anything else. We’ve said enough for one night.
21
MIA
“It’s boring,” I say, unlocking the front door. Colton and I have just come back to my place after going to play mini golf. I told him last week that I’d never gone golfing, and he was appalled. And, because it’s still winter, we had to settle for the kiddy version.
“You’re breaking my heart, Mia.”
“You’ll get over it.”
“I don’t know. This might be the end of us.”
“Hmm, have we even begun?” I ask, letting us into my bedroom. We decided that the living room was not the right place for us after Kiya caught us asleep and cuddling yet again. I think Kiya has enough photographic evidence now to extort us at some point. So, I got a TV and put it in my room, and that’s where Colton and I have our movie marathons…well, where we pretend to watch movies.
“You know we’ve begun,” he says, kissing me and biting my bottom lip. I kiss him back, so incredibly happy I’m able to do this whenever I want. Ever since that first kiss, we’ve been unable to stop.
The kiss becomes more passionate, more intense. Colton lifts me up and sits on my bed so I’m straddling him. He kisses me like he’s dying of thirst. One of his hands is buried in my hair, while the other moves all over my body, feeling me over my clothes. His tongue dances inside my mouth and I match his every move. His breathing becomes heavy, erratic and the friction we’re creating causes a moan to escape me. Pulling his lips from mine, he moves his hands from my hair to my shirt. In one rapid motion, he pulls it off and throws it across the room. His lips are back on me in record time, his hands expertly undoing my bra.
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