Crashed(book three)

The silence descends around us as we pull our clothes back on. Now that we’ve had our way with each other physically—now that our bodies are no longer connected—my mind worries about how we’re going to connect verbally.


Because we can’t leave things as is. And we can’t ignore them. Hopefully the miserably lonely time apart has helped us so we can move forward.

But even if we can, where exactly do we go from here?

I steal a glance over at him as he zips up his fire suit and looks through the tinted window at the crew below, and I just can’t get a read on him. I pull my shirt over my head and lick my lips as I try to figure out how to start this conversation.

“We need to talk,” I say softly as if I’m afraid to disturb the blanket of silence smothering the room.

“I’m putting the Palisades house up for sale.” He speaks the words quietly, never once looking my way, and I’m so focused on him and his lack of emotion, it takes a moment for his words to sink in.

Whoa! What? So that’s how we’re going to play this? Classic avoidance?

Even though he’s not looking at me, I know he’s aware of me so I try to visibly hide the shock from the words he’s just hit me with, as well as the ones he hasn’t said.

“Colton?” I say, his name like a question—one that asks so many different things. Are we going to address this? Are we going to ignore this? Why are you selling the house?

“I don’t use it …” he answers my unasked question, sliding a glance over at me, before he looks back at his guys down below. And the way he says it, almost apologetically, makes me feel like this is something he’s doing to tell me he’s sorry for everything that’s happening—Tawny, a possible baby, the space he needs.

When I don’t respond and just watch him patiently, he turns and faces me. Our eyes lock and we stare at each other for a moment, asking unanswered questions without words.

“I don’t need it anymore,” he explains as he watches me for a reaction.

And as much as there is unresolved drama between us, what he’s just said tells me he’s really in this for the long haul. That even with everything thrown at us over the past week that might turn his world upside down, he’s selling the one place I’d vowed never to return to. That I mean enough to him that he’s willing to get rid of a place signifying his old way of life full of stipulations and mitigations.

“Oh …” It’s all I can manage to say because I’m at a loss for words, so we just continue to stare at each other in this room that still smells like sex. I can see him thinking, trying to figure out what to say—how to go from here—so I begin. “What’s on your mind, Colton?”

“Just thinking,” he says, pursing his lips and running a hand through his hair, “about how I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear your voice today out on the track until you came through the headset.”

The gentle sigh of satisfaction comes from every part of me, warming me inside and out, as it weaves its way around the hold he has on my heart. And the old me would have rolled my eyes at his comment and said he’s trying to get on my good side, but the old me didn’t need and miss Colton as much as I do now, didn’t know all he had to offer.

“All you had to do was call me,” I say softly, reaching a hand out and placing it on top of his beside me. “I promised you I’d be here your first day back.”

He emits a self-deprecating chuckle with a shake of his head. “And say what? I’ve been an a*shole—haven’t called at all—but I need you on the track with me today?” The sarcasm is thick in his voice.

I squeeze his hand. “It’s a start,” I tell him, my voice trailing off. “We agreed to figure our shit out, get our heads straight, but I would’ve been here in a heartbeat if you’d called me.”

He sighs, angling his head out toward the track beyond. “I’m sorry for what I said to you … the things I accused you of … I was an ass.” Emotion causes his voice to waver, which makes what he’s saying that much more endearing.

I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I have to let him know. “You hurt me. I know you were upset and lashing out at the person nearest to you … but you hurt me when I was already torn apart. We struggle day to day with our pasts, and then something like this happens and … I …” I can’t find the right words to say it, so I just don’t finish my thought.

Colton steps toward me and reaches out to grab my hand, pulling me gently toward him so the only barrier between us is our clothes. “I know.” He draws in a shaky breath before he continues. “I’ve never done this before, Ry. I’m trying to figure it out as I go and f*ck, I know the excuses are getting old and pretty soon aren’t going to be excusable, but … f*ckin’ A, I’m trying.” He shrugs.

I nod at him, words escaping me because he’s doing something he’s never been good at: communicating. And they may seem like baby steps to him, but they gain us massive ground in our relationship.

He leans forward and brushes an unexpected kiss on my lips before murmuring, “C’mere.” He leans his butt against the ledge behind him the same time he pulls me into him so we stand with my back to his front, his legs surrounding mine. I lean my head against his chest and feel stupidly content as he brings his arms around me and holds me tight. He rests his chin on my shoulder. “Thank you for today. No one’s ever done something like that for me before.”

His words kind of surprise me but after a minute I understand his line of thinking and need to correct it. “Becks, your family, they do it all the time. You just don’t allow yourself to see or accept it.”

“Yeah, but they’re family, they have to.” He pauses and even though I can’t see the look in his eyes, I can sense his mind working as I wonder what exactly he classifies me as. “And you? You’re my f*cking checkered flag.” I angle my head to the side just enough so I can see a diminutive smile spread on his lips as a full-fledged one lights up mine. “It’s a little hard to get used to the idea when I’ve never done this before. I have to get used to you being there for me and needing you, and f*ck if that doesn’t knock me back a few pit stop steps sometimes because it scares the ever-loving shit out of me.”

Holy shit! I’m stunned to silence once again by his attempt to explain the trepidation I’m sure is tickling the outer edges of his psyche. I put my hands over his arms that are locked around me and squeeze them in a silent acknowledgment of the growth he is trying to show.

“I’m not going to run, Colton,” I say, my voice resolute. “I haven’t yet, but you really hurt me. I know you’re going through a lot of shit, but hell if you aren’t a lot to take in. I’m going to need a pit stop sometimes too. I mean, between you, the limelight, the women still wanting you and hating me, the possibility of …” I can’t finish the thought, can’t force the word baby from my lips or rid the sudden acrid taste from my mouth.

“Hello elephant in the f*cking room.” He lets out an audible sigh, and his jaw tenses on my shoulder.

I don’t want to ruin the moment—the heart-to-heart we need to have more of—but since I unexpectedly brought it up, I’d rather address it and get it over with. “What’s going on with … that?” I close my eyes and grit my teeth as I await the answer.

“I don’t care what she says about what I supposedly did or didn’t do that I can’t f*cking remember. I know it’s not mine, Rylee.”

The simplicity of his statement and the vigor with which he delivers it causes my hope to soar. And then to fall. If he got the results back, then why didn’t he call me? “You got the test results back already?” I say cautiously, trying to hide my wariness.

“No.” He shakes his head as the hope I have falls completely. “I took the test two days ago. Results will come any day now. But I know … I know it’s not mine.” And from the sound of his voice, I can’t tell who he’s trying to convince more: himself or me.

“How do you know, Colton, if you can’t remember?” I say loudly, frustrated and needing this to just be over, needing more emotion from him than what I’m getting. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. “I mean even if you and Tawny did...” I stop, unable to finish the thought “...she said you didn’t use a condom.” My voice is so quiet when I speak, hating that we even have to have this discussion. Hating that once again our moment of contentment is ruined by the outside world and the consequences of our pasts.

“You’re the only person, Ry … the only woman I’ve ever not used a condom with. I don’t care if you think I slept with her, but I know, Rylee … I know I would have used a condom.” I can hear the pleading in his voice for me to believe him. For me to understand an iota of the fear he’s feeling at the prospect of a child. When I don’t respond he pushes back away from me and starts to pace back and forth on the deck. The calm of five minutes ago is now replaced with pure agitation, a caged animal needing to escape its confines.

“It’s not mine!” he says, raising his voice. “There’s no f*cking way it can be mine!”

“But what if it is?” I reiterate with full knowledge of the fire I’m lighting.

“It’s not,” he shouts. “F*ck! All I know is that I don’t know f*cking anything! I hate the goddamn media following you and f*cking harassing you. I hate the look on your face right now that says you’re going to f*cking lose it if it is my baby even though you tell me you won’t. I hate f*cking Tawny and everything she represents. The bullshit lies she’s f*cking spewing about you that Chase says I can’t respond to because they’ll only hound you more. I hate that once again I’m f*cking hurting you … that I’m going to f*ck this up because my past is what it is … ” He closes his eyes and rolls his shoulders as he tries to rein in his anger.

This is the kind of fighting I can handle. Him venting, me listening, and then hopefully a little bit of the pain in his eyes and the weight on his shoulders will be eased, even if just for a bit.

“You’ve got enough on your plate. You don’t need to worry about me.” I tell him this and yet I love the fact that he’s upset by the fallout affecting me.

“I don’t?” he says with incredulity. “It’s my f*cking job to look out for you, and I can’t even do that right now because everything’s so f*cked up!”

“Colton—”

“I swear to God, your life gets turned upside down by me and you’re more worried about me and the boys than yourself.” He walks toward me with a shake of his head. He points to me and I look at him with confusion. “You are most definitely the f*cking saint I don’t deserve.”

“Every sinner needs a saint to balance them out,” I say with a smirk.

He laughs softly and reaches out to cup my cheeks in his hands. And even though we’ve already had each other, my body vibrates instantly at his nearness, at wanting him, at needing him. His eyes lock on mine, hints of what he wants to do to me dancing behind the fringe of lashes.

“God, I f*cking race you.” The emphatic words on his lips are followed by a lopsided smirk and a shake of his head, as if he’s still comprehending the depths of his emotions.

How many more times can my heart fall harder for this man? Because there it is again, the unpredictability of Colton that makes what he says just that much more poignant. Every part of my body shivers at his words.

It’s useless to try and fight the moisture pooling in my eyes because those words mean so much more than just “racing” to me. They mean he’s trying, he’s apologizing for the times when he’s going to f*ck up. And for a man previously closed off from everyone, he’s handing me the key to the lock, and giving me an all-access pass.

I reach my free hand out and cup the back of his neck, pulling him into me because a man this magnificent, inside and out, is just too irresistible. I kiss him tenderly, licking my tongue between his lips so it dances intimately with his. No urgency, just soft, gentle acceptance. It’s only been minutes since our last kiss but it already feels like a lifetime. As the kiss ends, he rests his forehead against mine and I say, “I race you too.”

I can feel his smile spread against my lips, and in this moment, I know he actually gets it. He actually accepts the fact that I love him and it’s such a figurative ray of light from this dark angel of mine that I grasp onto it, silently vowing to always remember how I feel right here, right now.

We may not have everything figured out, may not know what the future’s going to hold, but at least I know we’re in this race together.

“C’mon,” he says, pulling on my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

We head toward the garage area where the guys are working on the car. As we enter, Beckett shakes his head and smirks at us. I avert my gaze quickly, so very aware that every guy in the garage knows exactly what we were just doing. The walk of shame is one thing, but when you have an audience that knows you’re doing it, well … that’s a lot more embarrassing.

Colton laughs beside me and squeezes my fingers laced with his. “What’s so funny?” I mumble, still keeping my eyes trained on the ground.

“You’re cute when you blush,” he teases. “I prefer the pink parts elsewhere on you more though.”

My mouth shocks open and before I can even recover, his mouth is on mine. The clang of tools surround us and yet all I hear is the beat of my heart. The kiss is merely a tease of what we did earlier, but when he pulls back after kissing the tip of my nose, a smirk curls up one corner of his mouth.

“What was that for?” Like I even care what the answer is. He can do that to me anytime, anywhere.

“You know me, sweetheart. If they’re gonna stare, you might as well give them something good to stare at, right? Besides, if it wasn’t clear enough earlier, I want everyone in here knowing you’re mine.”

My heart swells at his words before the sarcasm is off my tongue. “Staking a claim are we?”

“Baby, claim’s already been made,” he says, stopping to look at me with a smirk. “No doubt about that.”

I roll my eyes and laugh at him as I keep walking. “C’mon, Ace,” I say over my shoulder, “can’t you keep up?”

I feel his hand smack my butt. “You sure as hell know I can keep anything up,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leaning down so his mouth is near my ear. “My dick, you pressed against the door, my stamina, and any other thing that can be considered up … but those are the most important ones, don’t you think?” He chuckles as I shake my head and make a sound of amusement.

We sort out the fact that Sammy is going to take my car home for me and then Colton leads me to a covered parking area where Sex sits. I can’t deny that the sight of the sexy-as-sin car brings back a rush of more than memorable memories that put a smirk on my face. From my locked gaze on the hood, I stare over to Colton where a lascivious grin meets mine. He raises his eyebrows, mischief dancing in his eyes, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he opens the door for me.

“Nice choice of car today,” I tell him as I slide into the opulent interior.

“This reminds me of you, and I needed you here today,” he says before shutting my door so I can’t respond. And maybe it’s best that I can’t, because his simple statement means so very much to me.

Baby steps.

Within seconds we’re on the freeway with the sounds of the Dave Matthews Band floating around us, the purr of the motor cocooning us, and the frenzied media following us. Colton looks in the rear view mirror before looking over at me from behind his sunglasses. “You buckled in?” he asks and all of a sudden my stomach twists in knots, fearing what’s going to happen next.

I don’t even have a chance to respond before the car surges forward, the motor revving, Colton laughing as the car flies faster than the press chasing us can go. I feel a surge of adrenaline and for a split second I can understand the pull of his addiction, but then I look up as he weaves in and out of traffic, and my heart lodges in my throat as the world beyond blurs.





I square up the documents on the kitchen counter. I’m satisfied with the transcription of Zander’s deposition to bring formal charges against his father. I tuck them in the manila folder and realize I’ve lost track of time; the clock reads seven-forty and the boys have to be at the field by eight. Oh crap! I need to finish getting the stuff together for their games. I rise from the table and start filling sport bottles and putting them on the counter next to bags of sunflower seeds. I strain to hear the commotion in the bedrooms and can tell that Jackson has the boys on task and almost ready to leave.


“Hey, Ry?”

“Yeah?” I look up to see Jackson leaning his shoulder against the wall with concern in his eyes.

“Zander and Scoot are still asleep.” He pauses for a minute and then continues. “Were you awake when Shane came in last night?”

I look at him, trying to figure out why he’s asking. “Yes. I was reading in my room. Why?”

“Did you physically see him? Talk to him?”

Now alarm bells sound in my head, and I stop what I’m doing and turn to face him. “Uh-uh. I called out his name and he said goodnight and went to his room. You’re scaring me, Jax, what’s going on?”

“Well, it looks like Shane tied one on last night. He’s passed out in his bed, his room reeks of beer, and by the looks of the bathroom he was reliving the night backwards into the toilet.” He has a half-smirk on his face, and I know it’s not appropriate but I have to stifle a laugh that Shane did something so normal for his age.

And then the responsible part of me takes over. I bite my lip and look at Jax. “We knew this would happen someday … shit, do you want me to deal with him or do you want to?”

“We’ll be out in the van, Jax!” Ricky yells.

“Kay!” he responds before looking back to me. “I can stay here with Zand, Scoot, and Shane if you want to take baseball today?”

“No, that’s cool,” I tell him as he grabs the bottles. “We’ll meet you at the field later to watch the games. I can handle Shane.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Jax says goodbye and as he closes the door I don’t feel so sure anymore. I sit down on one of the barstools and contemplate how exactly to handle a hungover sixteen year old. He’s the oldest and the first of the lot to go through this, so I’m kind of lost. Of course I was too scared to drink in high school—always the consummate good girl—so I’m on foreign ground here.

My phone rings and I look down, a smile immediately lights up my face when I see it’s Colton. “Good morning,” I say as warmth fills my heart. The past few days have been good between us despite the underlying tension we’ve blatantly been ignoring over the impending paternity test results. Colton’s been excited that he’ll be returning to the office next week, wanting to be there to oversee the new adjustments to the safety device they’re working on. I laughed and told him I thought it was funny that he’d returned to the track before the office, but he just said with a smirk that the track was a necessity and the office not so much.

“Hey … this bed is awfully lonely without you in it.” His sleepy morning rasp pulls at me and his words seduce me when I have no business being seduced.

“Believe me, I’d much rather be there with you—”

“Then get here as quick as you can, baby, because time’s wasting. I have a long list of things to do today,” he says, humor edging the suggestive tone of his voice. And I love this about him—about us—that just his voice can help ease the stress of my morning.

“What is it you have to do today?”

“You on the couch, you on the counter, you against the wall, you just about any place imaginable …” His voice drifts off as the parts of my body still asleep suddenly snap awake.

I groan into the phone. “You have no idea how tempting that sounds because today’s already turned to shit.”

“Why? What happened?” he asks concerned.

“Shane had his first experience with alcohol and from what Jax says, it doesn’t sound like it was a good one.”

Colton belts out a laugh. “He got shit-faced? Attaboy, Shane!”

“Colton! I’m trying to raise respectable boys here!” And the minute the words are out of my mouth I realize what an old-fashioned prude I sound like, but it’s true.

“Are you telling me I’m not respectable, Ryles?”

I smirk because I can picture the impish grin on his face right now. “Well, you do in fact do dirty things to me …” I tease, my body tensing and the ache in my lower belly pulsing at the thought of our last little sexcapade on the stairs of the Malibu house the day before last.

His chuckle is seductive yet naughty. “Oh, baby, dirtying you up is what I do best, but I’m talking about everyone else. I got drunk with the best of them in high school, and I turned out all right.”

“That’s debatable,” I tease. “So you’re saying it’s no big deal? To let him off the hook without any repercussions?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think it’s a good sign that he’s out being a typical sixteen-year-old kid. Not that it’s good or bad, just typical. And as long as it’s a one time deal—that he’s not drinking to escape his past—then good for him.”

In a sense I agree with Colton, but at the same time I know I need to address it with Shane, need to tell him it’s not okay and it can’t happen again, even though I know it will. “So how, man-that-used-to-be-a-reckless-teenager, should I handle this best?”

“I’m still reckless, Ry,” he says with amusement in his voice. “That, my dear, will never change. Jax needs to deal with him because he’s not going to listen to you.”

“I beg to differ.” I don’t want the boys to not want to talk to me or listen to me because I’m one of the few female counselors in the house.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Thomas,” he says with a laugh. “I’m not saying you can’t handle it. I’m just saying that he’s going to listen better if it comes from a man.”

“Well, Jax, is at baseball so it has to be me.”

“You’re at the house alone?” I can hear the concern fill his voice immediately, and smile at his sudden need to watch out for me, protect me. It’s quite cute.

“Colton.” I sigh. “There are fifty photographers out front. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Exactly. Fifty photographers that have no f*cking business being there except to harass you and the boys. F*cking Christ!” He barks out to himself. “I’m so sick of my goddamn bullshit being on your doorstep.”

“Really, it’s not a—”

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” he says and the line clicks dead.

Okay. So he’s coming to deal with the press, which will do no good, and I still have to figure out how to deal with Shane.

F*ck!



“You can play for another hour or so, Scooter, and then we have to head to the field, okay?”

“Yep!” he yells to me as he hustles down the hallway toward the family room where I’m sure Saturday morning cartoons will be in full swing momentarily.

I continue down the hall and stop when I pass Zander and Aiden’s room. Zander’s on the bed, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, precious stuffed dog grasped to his chest, and he is rocking back and forth with his eyes closed. I angle my head, take a step into the room, and watch him for a moment so I can figure out if he’s dreaming or awake. When I step closer, I hear the quiet keening within his chest and then I move on instinct.

“Hey, Zander, you okay, buddy?” I ask gently, as I lower myself ever so slowly onto the mattress next to him.

He just continues rocking but lifts his head up to look at me, tears staining his face and utter heartbreak reflected in his eyes. Because no matter how much time passes, the memories will always be there burrowing their tentacles of destruction as deep as they can so he will never be able to forget. He might be able to move on at some point, but he will never forget.

“I want my mommy,” he whimpers, and if my heart could shatter into a million pieces, it would for this little boy, who I love more than anything.

I ever so slowly pull him into my lap and wrap my arms around him, nestling his head under my neck so he doesn’t see the tears I’m crying for him, his lost innocence, the part of him he’ll forever ache for—his mother.

“I know, buddy,” I tell him as I rock him. “I know. She’d be here if she could. She never would have left you if the angels hadn’t needed her.”

“But—but I need her too …” He sniffs and there is nothing I can say to that. Nothing. So I press a kiss to his head and just hold him tighter, trying to let my love for him ease some of the heaviness in his heart, but know it will never be enough.

We sit there for a bit, him drawing comfort and solace from me as much as I am from him. He calms down some as minutes tick by, my hand smoothing over his hair and back as I try to figure out something to make him smile. “Hey, bud? Colton’s on his way over.”

I feel his body jerk to attention as red-rimmed eyes look up at me. “Really?”

And as if on cue, I hear commotion outside the front of the house. Even with the windows and blinds shut I can hear the purr of an engine, the clicks of the camera shutters, and the questions being called out.

“Yep, in fact I think he just got here.”

Grateful for Colton’s timing and the instant spark it puts in Zander’s eyes, we rise and head toward the front of the house. I make sure the boys are in the family room so when I open the front door, they’re out of the camera lens’ way.

Colton pushes into the narrow opening of the doorway with a muttered curse as the door shuts behind him. He looks at me, lines of frustration etched in his face, and a brown grocery bag propped under his arm. He smiles. “Hey.”

“Hiya, Ace,” I say, stepping toward him to give him a kiss hello but his body stiffens. I immediately step away realizing one of the boys is behind me. Colton is always so aware of them and cautions kissing me in their presence, even a peck on the lips, because he knows how overprotective they are, and he never wants to upset that balance.

“Just kiss her and get it over with!” Scooter’s exasperated voice behind me has Colton and me bursting out laughing as I turn to face him, a smile plastered on my lips.

I feel Colton’s free hand on my lower back as he steps beside me and squats down in front of Scooter. “It’s okay?” he asks the little boy whose eyes have just become the size of saucers. “I mean, it’s not really polite to walk into another man’s house and kiss his girl … but since you’re one of the men in the house, I guess I could kiss her if you tell me it’s okay.”

Scooter’s mouth falls lax at Colton’s comment and his spine stiffens with pride. “Really?” The excitement in his voice has me putting a hand over my heart. “Yeah … it’s okay. As long as you don’t make her sad.”

“Deal.” Colton sticks his hand out, and they shake on it. My heart overflows with love, and I have to fight back the tears welling in my eyes for the second time today, but this time they’re from the pride I feel for two of the men in my life.

“Well then,” Colton says as he stands and looks at me, “the man of the house says I can kiss you.”

My smile widens as Colton leans in and pecks my lips in a brotherly fashion. “Eeeewwww gross!” Scooter says, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand and turning to run into the family room to tell Zander.

Colton looks over his shoulder to make sure Scooter is gone and when he turns back his lips find mine without a second thought. It’s a brief kiss, but man does it pack a punch, more than reinforcing that he’s the drug I can’t live without. “Wow!” I say as he pulls back.

“He said I could do it.” He just smirks and shrugs. “Where’s our drunk skunk at?”

“Still asleep,” I tell him as I look down at the brown bag under his arm. “What’s that?”

Colton just grins. “A little something to make sure that he remembers this morning for a long time. Hair of the dog and all that.”

“Colton,” I warn as I notice the shape of the bag looks a little too similar to a six pack. “I can’t give him beer! I’ll get fired,” I shout at him in a hushed tone.

He has the gall to just stand there and chuckle. “Exactly. That’s why I am.” And with that, Colton strides down the hallway to my right into Shane’s room. Colton’s words earlier that Shane won’t listen to me has me walking down the hallway to see what he’s going to do.

Colton pulls the blinds up, and bright light floods the room, before he looks over to his dresser, a huge smile spreading on his face. Within seconds, the pair of speakers that Shane’s iPod is plugged into blare to life with a base thumping beat. Shane springs out of bed instantly, shouting and covering his ears and does a double take when he sees who is standing in front of his bed, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows raised.

They stare at each other for a moment before Shane grabs the pillow and pulls it over his head to stop the sound and block the bright light. “Stop it!” he yells. Colton laughs and walks over to the iPod and flicks it off. “Thank you!” Shane’s muffled voice says from beneath the pillow.

“Uh-uh,” Colton says to him as he bounces on the bed beside him and pulls the pillows from his hands as Shane then uses his arms to cover his eyes. “By the smell of your room and the look on your face, I’d say you tied one on nice and hard last night. That right, bud?” He laughs, an amused borderline sinister laugh, when Shane doesn’t respond. “Is your head pounding? The room spinning? Your eyes hurt? Does your stomach feel like you want to throw up but there’s nothing there?”

“Shut up,” Shane groans as he tries to pull the covers over his head, and Colton just yanks them back down.

“Nope. You wanna hang with the big boys—get plastered like they do—then it’s time to wake up and take it like a man.” From my vantage point in the hallway I watch Colton prop his back against the wall and get comfortable before he digs into the brown paper bag. I hear the crack of the beer can opening and Shane immediately sits up in bed, and looks at Colton like he’s lost it.

“Are you f*cking crazy?” Shane croaks in a panicked voice.

“Yep,” Colton says as he looks over at Shane and grins. He takes a sip of the beer and then holds it out to Shane. “Sure as hell am. Drink up, son.”

“No way!” Shane says as he backs away from the can like it’s on fire. “You can’t give me a beer!”

Colton raises his eyebrows. “I believe I just did. Now quit using that as an excuse. You were grown up enough to chug it down last night, right? So it’s time to remind you just why you liked it so much.” Colton shoves the beer back at him. “C’mon, take a drink. I dare you.”

“What the—”

“Drink!” Colton pressures him. “What? You’re cool enough to drink with your friends but not me?”

“It’s going to make me puke!”

“Now you’re catching on!” Colton says with a smirk as he reaches with his free hand back into the bag and grabs another beer. “I’ve got five more here for ya when you finish this one.”

Shane’s eyes grow huge and his face pales when Colton’s words hit him. “No way! I’m going to throw up.”

“Good,” Colton says as he gets in close to Shane’s face. “Drink this,” he says. “I want you to remember just how good it tastes coming back up the second time around. The next time your buddies push you to drink or you want to drink to look cool for the ladies … I want you to remember how f*cking cool you look bent over the toilet throwing this back up because I guarantee you from experience, it’s not a pretty sight.” Colton backs away from him and returns to his position against the wall, a smug smile on his face. He leans his head back but angles his eyes over to watch Shane. “You sure you don’t want this beer? Don’t want to remember what it tastes like?”

Shane shakes his head, a little shocked at the verbal lashing his idol just gave him, as am I.

When Colton speaks next, his voice is eerily calm. “Now that I’ve got your attention, a few ground rules, shall we?” He doesn’t wait for Shane to respond. “How’d you get home last night, Shane?”

The question surprises me, just as it does Shane. “Davey brought me home.”

“Did Davey drink last night too?” The quiet calm in Colton’s voice has Shane averting his gaze, which makes my heart sink.

“He had a few.” I can hear the shame in Shane’s voice; he knows it was wrong.

“Eeeehhh! Wrong answer!” Colton says as he turns his head to look at him again. “You wanna be stupid and get drunk? That’s one thing I can get. You want to step in a car and let someone else drive you who’s drunk—because let’s face it you were shit-faced so how do you know how many Davey had—that’s something I won’t tolerate! You have way too many people who love you in this house. Care about you, Shane—Ry, the boys, me—we don’t want something to happen to you. So let me rephrase the question, okay? I’m not going to ask you if you’re going to get drunk again because then you’ll have to lie to me. Here’s my question: Are you going to get in a car with another person who’s been drinking?”

Shane swallows loudly and shakes his head no. When Colton just stares at him, he says aloud, “No.”

“Good! Now we’re getting somewhere …” Colton says, pounding his hand against the wall loudly that has Shane jumping and grabbing his head, while Colton belts out a laugh. “You sure you don’t want this beer?” He offers again to a frantic shake of Shane’s head. “I love a smart kid so listen up, I don’t care how the f*ck you get home, call me if you have to, but don’t do it again. Last thing … why?”

Shane’s eyes lift up to meet his. “What do you mean why?”

Colton stares at him long and hard and it drives me crazy that I’m not close enough to see the unspoken words pass between them. “To be cool? To impress a girl? To cover the pain from your mom? You don’t have to tell me, Shane, but the answer is very important. It’s something you need to answer for yourself.” I see Shane’s head lower and I suck in a breath with concern. Shane shifts and leans against the wall like Colton, legs crossed out in front of them, arms crossed over their chests, and heads angled up at the ceiling. The sight of them together like this is priceless, and I know this is one moment that will forever be etched in my memory.

Colton blows out a breath and when he starts speaking, his voice is so soft that I strain to hear him. “When I was little I had some bad shit happen to me. Really bad shit. And no matter what I did, or how good I was, or how hard I tried … nothing mattered … nothing stopped it. No one helped. So in my seven year old brain, it was my fault and even some days now, I still think that way. But the worst part was living with the pain and guilt from it.” He sighs and turns his head from the ceiling and waits for Shane to do the same so they’re looking at one another. “Shit, I started drinking when I was a helluva lot younger than you, Shane … and I drank because it hurt so f*cking much. And after some stupid stunts and some situations I was lucky enough to walk away from, my dad sat me down and asked me the same question I just asked you. Said the same things I said to you. But then he asked, ‘Why drink to cover it up because hurting is feeling and feeling is living, and isn’t it good to be alive?’” Colton shakes his head. “And you know what? Some days I thought it was bullshit, that I would never be able to spend a single day without thinking about it or hurting from it or feeling guilty about it … and f*ck, those days? I wanted to drink. At fifteen Shane, I wanted to drink to deal with it … but my dad would sit me down and repeat those words to me. And you know what? He was right. It took time. Lots of time. And it never, ever goes away … but I’m so glad I chose to feel over being numb. So glad I chose living over being dead.”

I don’t realize that I have tears sliding down my cheeks like Shane does until Colton reaches out and hooks an arm around his neck and pulls him close. He gives him a quick, but gruff man-hug that causes a sob to shake through Shane’s body. Colton presses an uncharacteristic kiss to the top of his head and murmurs again, “Remember, hurting is feeling and feeling is living, and isn’t it good to be alive?”

My heart is in my throat, my breath robbed, and any hope I ever had of walking away from this beautiful disaster of a man is completely stolen from me forever.

The damaged man helping the broken child.

He releases Shane from the hug and I can immediately sense they are both uncomfortable with their show of emotion. Colton shoves off of the bed and laughs when he offers Shane the beer again and he pushes it away. He gathers the bag with the rest of them and starts to walk toward the door but turns back. “Hey, Shane? You stink, dude. Take a shower and get dressed, we’ve got some baseball to go watch.”

Colton walks out of the door and stops to stare at me, so many emotions swimming in his eyes as he sees the tears staining my cheeks. I say the only thing I can. “Thank you,” I mouth. He nods as if he doesn’t trust himself to speak and walks down the hall.