I guess he had suffered from his own nightmares.
I guess... God, I don’t even know what I guessed anymore. I felt kind of shaky to learn I shared such a connection with him. My brain went all jumbled and woozy.
“So?” Colton asked, leaning in as his stare took in every feature of my face. “Were we haunted by the same kind of dreams?”
“I...” I opened my mouth, but only a dry croak emerged. After clearing my throat and licking my parched lips, I managed to say, “I guess that depends. Did your mom die when you were six too?”
He shook his head, and I swear his shoulders fell as if he were relieved. Then he said, “If she had, I doubt I ever would’ve had a problem with nightmares in the first place.”
“That’s terrible,” I blurted, my mind already racing with curiosity, wondering what his mom had done to haunt his dreams.
He shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Yeah, well…so was she.” His gaze focused on my earrings, and his eyes softened with sympathy. “Was your mom a good mom?”
I pulled back, a little shocked he would even ask such a question. “Of course.”
Seriously, what the hell had his mother done to build that kind of distrust for all mothers?
With a nod, he murmured, “Then I’m sorry for your loss. Life can be seriously fucked up and unfair, can’t it? The good mom died, and the awful mom lived. How’s that for ironic injustice?”
“Geez,” I blurted. “You really don’t like your mother at all, do you? Which one is she?” I began to scan the room, focusing my attention on the wedding party’s table where his family had been seated.
But Colton only smiled as if amused. “Oh, she wasn’t invited.”
My eyebrows spiked. Wow, even Brandt wasn’t a fan of her. She must really be a piece of work. “What the hell did she do?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Nothing good,” he answered. “How did your mom die?”
“Cancer,” I spit out, thinking he’d be more willing to answer my questions if I opened up a little more about my own answers. “When was the last time you saw your mom?”
“About seven months ago. Before that, I was…” He paused to think before answering, “Eight. Did you get to tell your mom goodbye before she died?”
“No, I didn’t. She went crazy delirious at the end. Hallucinated I was the devil come to take her soul to hell. She screamed and threw a vase of flowers at me.” I still had a scar on my forearm where I’d lifted my hands to shield my face. “So I wasn’t allowed in her room the last few days.”
“Holy shit,” Colton wheezed, his eyes growing large. “That had to suck.”
“If your mom left when you were eight,” I started before he could ask me anything else, “who raised you after that? Your dad?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “No idea who that loser was. Our big brother Noel took guardianship over me and Brandt, and our sister, Caroline.”
“I…I never knew that,” I murmured, blinking wildly as my mind raced. “Wow.”
Brandt had never mentioned how he’d been raised all those times we’d worked together. And here, I thought he and I had been through a couple in-depth conversations. He’d opened up to me about his feelings for Sarah in a way that no guy had ever opened up to me. That was one reason why my crush on him had lingered all these months. I thought I’d seen an integral, intimate part of him.
But he hadn’t really shared himself with me at all, had he?
That was a sobering wake-up call.
“Who raised you?” Colton asked, making me veer my attention back to him and blink myself to the present.
“Oh, uh...” I shook my head. “My dad did.”
“He a good dad?”
Again, it was startling to even be asked such a question. I nodded slowly. “Yes.”
So he nodded too. “Good.”
I wanted to change the subject. I wasn’t sure why. But talking about this made me feel vulnerable. Or something. And it definitely made me feel softer toward Colton, which seemed as if it should be wrong in itself, though it didn’t feel wrong at all. It felt nice and warm and…that should be wrong. Right? I wasn’t supposed to feel good things for Colton Gamble, though for the life of me I couldn’t remember why.
I just knew I needed to stop this.
Change the subject.
Change it to anything.
The first thing that came to mind.
“I have to pee,” I blurted.
Crap, had I announced that out loud?
Colton’s laugh answered my question. “Thanks for telling me.”
Scowling at him, I bolted to my feet, only to sway once I was upright. I reached for my chair to catch my balance. “Stop laughing, jerk, and just tell me where the damn bathroom is.”
“Sure, baby doll. Anything for you. It’s uh...down that hall there, and one of those doors to the right. Or is it the left?” He frowned thoughtfully. “Shit, I can’t remember. I’ll just show you.” He pushed to his feet and took my hand.
His grip was warm and protective, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. But I wasn’t about to let go.