“So?” He shrugs, shaking his head at me. “What did you need so badly to come and talk to me about?”
I dampen my suddenly dry lips with the tip of my tongue, stalling. My heart thumps wildly in my chest. I wouldn’t be surprised if he can hear it. But I don’t care. I swallow my own nausea, blinking once. I know it’s now or never. And, despite my reservations, I think back to what Rylie said. A love like this doesn’t come around very often. She’s right. There’s no way that I can let it go without a fight.
I steady him with an imploring gaze, gauging him while I take a deep, fortifying breath. And then I throw all semblance of caution to the wind. “I still love you, Colt.”
Chapter 17
Colt’s brows knit together in confusion, in anger, I can’t tell. He blinks once, then once more, his intimidating and infuriatingly aloof, slightly callous gaze fixed on me from across the other side of the sofa as my words continue reverberating through the room like a broken record. And, the longer he goes without saying anything at all, the more I wish I could go back in time, just thirty seconds ago, and never say what I just said.
I mean, I still love you?
I shake my head at myself. What an idiot.
I shift in my seat, gripping the bottle of beer in my hand like it’s all I’ve got, while I consider my own words. I clear my throat in the hope that it will help to provide some courage to say what I desperately need to say. “Last night, you asked me why I couldn’t love you enough back then.”
He blinks again, his face blank, impassive. No furrowed brow. No emotion whatsoever, Just nothing.
“Well …” I continue, staring down at my beer, its label in shreds. “The thing is, Colt … I-I did love you enough back then. But that was just it.”
I glance up again in time to see him take another long drink from his beer, still stoic, still silent. I know he’s waiting for me to finish saying whatever it is I have to say, but one grunt of recognition wouldn’t go astray.
“I was scared. We were so young. All I kept thinking was that I was giving up everything to marry you. Everything I’d worked so hard at. All my hopes and dreams. And I was terrified of losing who I was, who I was meant to become. I kept thinking that we’d get married young, and then sooner or later we’d wind up resenting each other. I was confused, because I loved you more than anything—I truly did—but I just …”
I realize my explanation is poor and confusing. And trite. It wasn’t you, it was me. I can’t help but roll my eyes at myself as my own shoulders fall with a heavy sigh when I meet his eyes again. “The truth is, Colt … what I never told you back then was that … I was terrified that I was going to end up like my mother. She gave up everything for my dad. She had dreams of moving away from here, but she didn’t. She stayed and became the perfect little housewife … and she ended up so sad.” Tears cause my eyes to sting, but I continue. “I know what I did to you was wrong. I was wrong. I’ve regretted it every single day of my life ever since.
“I wish I could go back and change what I did. But I can’t. I did what I did, and nothing I say will ever change that. So I have to own it. But I’ll never forgive myself. I ruined everything. I lost everything with that one stupid decision. But most importantly, I lost the love of my life with one unforgivable, irrevocable mistake that still, to this day, makes me so angry with myself.”
Colt shifts, causing me to pause. I think he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. He leans over to place his empty bottle onto the makeshift coffee table, which is just a couple old pine crates stacked on top of one another. With a heavy sigh, he rests his elbows on his knees, removing his baseball cap, his head bowed as he ruffles a hand through his hair, replacing the hat again. But he doesn’t look at me. He just rests his chin on his clasped hands, staring down at the old Navajo rug that originally belonged to my grandpa; a gift he’d been given by the chieftain from the nearby reservation.
He’s still silent.
I continue. “I love you, Colt. I know it’s been ten years, but I never stopped loving you. It’s only ever been you, and you know what? It’s probably going to be you until the day that I die. So please, don’t ever think for one minute that I didn’t love you enough back then. Because I did. It was my love for you that made me do what I did. And I’ll never forgive myself for letting you go.” My throat closes up with emotion, and for a moment I can’t continue. I can barely even breathe.
Tears sting my eyes.
I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry, not in front of Colt. Afterwards, yes. I could go back to the house and cry into my pillow until I had no tears left. But not now. I grasp on to the last stitch of composure I have, clearing the swelling lump from my throat. “I need to tell you something …”
I watch Colt as he stares into the fire, his face stark, wide eyes unblinking.
“I came back for you.”
He flashes me a confused sideways glance, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow. “You … you what?”
I nod, sniffling once again. “I’d booked a flight to come home the weekend after midterms. To tell you I’d made a mistake. To plead with you to forgive me. To beg you to take me back. All I wanted was you, and I couldn’t live with the mistake that I’d made.” I release a stammering breath. “But then … the accident happened.” I sniffle, biting down hard on my trembling bottom lip. “I dropped everything, forfeited my midterms and I came straight home and I stayed with you by your side, holding your hand, reading to you, playing you some of your favorite songs.”
“But you weren’t …” His brow furrows as he stares straight ahead, trying to process my words. “You weren’t there when I woke up.”
I bury my face in my hands, nodding. Sure. I could tell him the truth. The real reason I left again. But I just can’t bring myself to say those words, in case he cements the fear and the doubt that’s crippled me for ten years. “Why would you want me there when you woke up? I was the reason you were lying in that hospital bed. It should have been me! It was all my fault!” I cry through a racking sob, swiping at the traitorous tears trailing down my cheeks.
“It wasn’t your fault, Quinn,” Colt suddenly says, his raspy voice gruff like gravel as it cuts through the air. He finally glances at me, a deep crease pulling between his brows. “I’m the one who drank a fifth of whiskey. I’m the one who got behind the wheel on my damn truck when I couldn’t even see straight. I did that. That’s on me.” He turns back to the fireplace, staring at the dancing flames.
His words don’t make me feel any better.
“Colt, I’ve spent the last ten years of my life trying to move on from what I did, from losing you. Placing a Band-Aid over the wound of my past. Ten years pretending to be someone I’m not, forging a whole other life for myself just so I could forget who I was and what I did, what I lost. And it worked. For a while. But that’s the thing about Band-Aids; they don’t stay stuck forever.”
Colt clamps his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing almost painfully on the flesh as the flames of the fire reflect in his glassy eyes.
“My mom made me promise that I would never stop chasing my dreams, but dreams weren’t real. What I had was real. I left my heart behind when I ran away all those years ago. And I can’t live without my heart, Colt …”
He looks at me then, his head turning slowly, a heavy gaze fixed on me.
“It’s you. You’re my heart.” I implore him with a look of earnestness, and I’ve never allowed myself to open up as much as I am right now. “It’s always been you. And, no matter what, no matter how much it continues to kill me inside, it’s only ever going to be you.”
My words leave an overwrought silence hanging in their wake, the record that had been playing now long finished. Nothing but the occasional crackle of the fire fills the silent, heavy void in the air between us. I stare at Colt, study him. From the obvious tension in his tight shoulders, the tension he’s trying so hard not to let show through his stoic facade, to the way his left knee jumps e
ver so slightly with every bounce of his feet. His face remains stark, unaffected, his furrowed brow the only thing giving away the fact that maybe he isn’t as unperturbed as he’d like me to believe. But that’s all I’ve got. Sometimes I can read him, other times it’s almost impossible. But God, I wish I could tell exactly what he’s thinking right now.
I look down at the redundant bottle of beer in my hand, placing it onto the coffee table as steadily as my shaking hand can manage. My gaze flashes to Colt, and I eye him warily.
“Do you … do you have anything you want to say?” I ask, my voice soft, quiet and blatantly full of the kind of hope I’m certain makes me sound pathetic.
Of course he says nothing, and his intense gaze falls from me to the floor at my feet, and he seems set on staring at nothing, his eyes empty and hollow. I’ve just opened my heart and given him all I have to give, and he’s got nothing, and desperation suddenly begins to rear her ugly head from deep down inside of me.
“You told me you didn’t care enough about me to hate me anymore.” My voice is a little rough, but I’m reaching now, for anything I can grab to get some semblance of a reaction from him. “But you were lying, Colt. I know you were!”
Still nothing.
“When you kissed me last night, I could feel it on your lips, your tongue, in the way your hands were holding me with such need and desperation it was as if you’d found me after years of searching, and you couldn’t bear to let me go in case you lost me again.” I’m almost incredulous now. Angry that he isn’t giving me anything, not one single emotion. I’d rather he fight me, curse me out, anything. I can’t stand his silence. “You still love me, Colt. I know you do. It’s in the way you look at me, in the words you don’t say … It’s tattooed right over your damn heart!”
And still, nothing.
A sudden and unexpected anger erupts inside of me, exploding deep in my belly, and I can’t take it anymore. I can’t sit here and give him every single part of me without receiving anything in return. And, maybe this is his way of getting back at me. Maybe this is what he wanted all along. Maybe this was closure for him, to know that I have always loved him, that I will always love him. Maybe now he can finally move on, knowing I’ll hate myself for the rest of my life for losing him, loving him until the day I die.
My heart aches more than it’s ever ached before, tears hot as they sting my cheeks.
Colt remains seated, hunched over, staring at nothing, completely immune to the emotion pouring out of me as I stand with a sob, silently cursing myself. I begin toward the door as fast as I can, stepping around him, but right then I feel a hand grab hold of my wrist, stopping me, shocking me so I almost stumble.
I close my eyes tight for a moment as relief floods through me. I take a deep, trembling breath in the hope that it will calm me, prepare me for what, I don’t even know. I chance a risk, glancing down at him, finding his head bowed before he slowly looks up at me with eyes so full of fear and trepidation, so careful and tentative. So scared. But then I see it. I see it in his stare. The fear. The trepidation. The want. He’s just as desperate as I am.
He grips my wrist so tight, lifting his other hand and grabbing my hip, slowly yet forcefully pulling me closer until I’ve got nowhere to go but between his knees. His hand remains on my hip, the pad of his thumb finding the sensitive skin beneath the hem of my shirt, stroking me, his touch featherlight, his eyes intense, never once leaving mine. He lets go of my wrist, and I hesitate a moment before carefully reaching out, removing his baseball cap. I push his hair back from his face, my nails gently scratching his scalp, and momentarily his thick lashes flutter closed, a heavy yet trembling breath exhaling from within him as he rests his forehead against my stomach, taking the moment he needs. But that moment is fleeting, and he’s quick to look back up at me through his lashes, both hands on my hips now, urging me down onto his lap.
I stare into his eyes, my gaze dipping down to his lips, watching as the tip of his tongue coats them, causing them to glisten beneath the muted glow of the fire. And never before have I ever wanted for anything, the way I want, need, to kiss him. I’m shaking with that need, my entire body trembling beneath the weight of his heavy stare. He holds me so close, so tight, like he can’t let me go, and there’s something in his eyes I wasn’t expecting, something that causes my heart to skip at least a few of its mandatory beats. Confirmation. He still loves me. It’s blatantly obvious within that heavy, penetrating stare. He never stopped loving me. He loves me, wholeheartedly and irrevocably.
I wrap my arms around his neck, inching closer and closer until there’s nothing more than a hairsbreadth left between us. His breath is warm as it fans against my lips. His eyes are blazing, wild and untamed as they regard me, imploring me, silently pleading for the permission he needs. I gently nudge his nose with my own, nestling closer, melding into him. And that’s all the consent he requires before he captures my bottom lip between his, sucking it slowly, his teeth grazing it until I allow him the access he so obviously wants. His tongue glides into my mouth, our kiss unhurried, deliberate, and easy, before heating with every soft breath, every hushed moan, every whimper falling between us.
Colt kisses me as if I’m his everything. I feel every one of his emotions: desire, desperation, relief, fear, and foreboding. This is a kiss like nothing else. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I’m entirely lost within the feel of his lips and tongue, his hands gripping my waist like he’s so happy to have me, but so terrified of losing me again that he can’t possibly risk letting go.
I missed his scent. A heady combination of mint, vanilla, pine, and the lingering hint of a long-forgotten whiskey. It’s a scent I would bottle if I could, just so I could keep him close at all times. Spray it on my pillows, my clothes, all over, just to remind me of everything Colt. I rake my fingers through his mess of chestnut waves, pulling and tugging on the longer lengths ever so slightly, my nails scratching his scalp, causing him to groan into our kiss.
Momentarily he breaks away from my lips, peppering kisses down over my jaw, my neck, coming to stop at the base of my throat. His mouth lingers there, blowing warm breath on my already heated skin, nipping lightly with his teeth. I drop my head to the side and I hear the faintest of chuckles before he attaches his lips to my favorite spot. The one spot that only he seems to know about. No one else. His spot. And I can’t contain my own sounds as they slip from my lips with every glide of his tongue, every nip, every slow and steady suck, as warmth pools in the pit of my belly.
“Are you s-sure about this?” he murmurs against my skin, his voice barely the ghost of a whisper with every stammer.
“Yes,” I say with a breathless sigh, my throat raw and hoarse as emotion and desire claim me.
I wrap my arms around his neck even tighter, holding him right there. My stomach pulls tight, clenching. The sound of my gasping breaths seems to drown out the silence around us. My racing heart beats hard against my chest, so hard I’m sure he can feel it.
Suddenly, and without warning, I’m moving. Colt shifts beneath me, his hands moving to my butt, holding me steady as he finds his feet without effort or struggle. I hold on tight, wrapping my legs around his waist, anticipation coursing through me as he carries me down the darkened hallway, his gaze fixed intently on mine as we enter the master suite.
Colt places me down on the foot of the bed, standing above me, looking down at me in a way I don’t think I’ve ever been looked at before. In fact, I don’t even know how to describe it. Wonderment? Awe? Adoration? Myriad emotions flash within that one piercing stare. It’s almost as if he can’t even begin to believe that I’m here. But I am here. I’m not going anywhere. And, if he’ll have me, I’ll happily stay forever.
I watch as he lifts the hem of his sweater, pulling it off, leaving him in a thin cotton undershirt that’s climbed halfway up his smooth, taut torso. But in one swift move, he reaches over his shoulder and tugs it over his head with one hand in a move that makes me openly swoon
. His hair stands up in almost every direction, adorably contradicting the feral look of pure want and need in his eyes as he continues staring down at me, his lips parted just enough to allow for his shallow, hurried breaths.
My eyes roam his body, unabashed, my hands following suit, reaching up and gliding over skin as it pulls tight over strong muscle. I find my name again, right there, intricately inked over the jagged scar, the violent memory of his past. His lashes flutter and his eyes close tight, and when he grabs my hand, I think he’s going to pull it away, but he does the opposite. He presses it firmer against his chest, covering it with his own, his eyes opening to fix on me.
“You said I was your heart?” he rasps, his voice almost breaking mid-sentence.
I nod.
“You own my heart, Quinny,” he rasps. “You always have.”
“W-what?” I stammer, my voice so soft, I’m not sure he heard.
Colt crouches down, still holding my palm against his heart with one hand, cupping my face with his other. He stares into my eyes, in a look so all-consuming it’s almost my undoing.
“It’s always been you,” he whispers.
I gape at him, blinking once. His words, and the sentiment behind them, have just about ended me. I could die right now, and everything would be okay.
I study him, every single part of him, my eyes flitting between his, finding nothing but a heart-wrenching sincerity within them. I reach my free hand around, cradling the back of his head, urging him closer and closer until his lips barely graze against mine. Our eyes are still firmly set on one another’s in a closeness I know neither of us have ever felt. I hold my breath as anticipation stirs between us. And, in a burst of unbridled passion, our lips crash together, and in that moment and I am his and he is mine, and together, nothing else matters.
Chapter 18
Sweet Home Montana Page 15