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  He grabs both my hands, holding me close, his gaze imploring, and I can see an internal conflict within his eyes, one that he masks with a small smile that causes his dimples to pop. “Dance with me,” he says so close, his lips grazing my temple.

  Before I can even answer him, we’re moving toward the dance floor, as the electric guitar and drums fade into the gentle melody of a soft acoustic song playing around us, causing us to sway to the tune, our movements almost involuntary. Colt pulls me flush against him, one hand holding mine against his chest between us, the other gripping my waist before snaking around and resting upon the curve of my lower back.

  We don’t speak. We don’t even look at each other. My head is bowed, resting against his chest. His hand holds mine against his heart, the pad of his thumb stroking the sensitive spot on the inside of my wrist, causing me to shiver, my breath catching at the back of my throat. I’m wholeheartedly consumed by everything Colt Henry right at this moment, and it’s almost too much. I don’t even know why he’s here, or how he even knew I was here. I don’t know much right now. All I know is his scent, his touch, his lips grazing against my forehead in the lightest yet most meaningful of kisses. And I could actually cry with just how right this feels. It’s all so much, but I really wouldn’t have it any other way.

  I pull back after a moment, finding his eyes watching me, fixed on me with so much sentiment and emotion, and the look is both breathtaking and heartbreaking.

  “Why are you here?” I ask.

  “I needed to see you,” he whispers into my ear, his lips brushing against the lobe.

  I study him a moment.

  He offers a gentle smile. “You wanna go for a drive?”

  “A drive?” I question.

  He nods, swallowing hard. “I wanna show you something.”

  “But I’m here with Tripp.” I glance back in the direction of my brother, which is precisely when I see him standing there by the pool table, watching us intently, and suddenly something doesn’t feel right. Between the look in Colt’s eyes, and the way my brother is just hanging back watching us, my heart sinks low in my belly, dipping uncomfortably. Something’s going on.

  “He’ll be fine.” Colt grabs my hands, linking his fingers through mine, flashing me his dimples. “Come on. Come with me.”

  I want to ask him why. Where does he want to take me? Why does he want me to leave with him right now? What shit has happened over the years that I’ve been gone that no one will tell me? But, of course I don’t. Instead, I nod, managing a tentative smile that doesn’t reach my eyes, and Colt ducks down, capturing my lips with his in a sweet yet chaste kiss, squeezing my hands. And then he turns, holding on to me with everything he has, leading me with him as he navigates the way through the thick crowd.

  Chapter 22

  The liquor I consumed with Tripp back at Duke’s is nothing more than a long-forgotten memory. I’m suddenly stone-cold sober sitting in the passenger seat of Colt’s truck as we drive through the darkness of the night. Colt has barely spoken more than two words to me, his hand resting upon my thigh as he navigates the big pickup down a pitch-dark backroad in the middle of nowhere, a soft song playing through the radio helping to fill the void between us.

  I cast a glance across the cab, studying Colt. His grip on the steering wheel is obviously tight, causing the veins in his forearms to move beneath the surface of his inked skin. His sharp jaw ticks, as if his teeth are clenching painfully with everything he isn’t saying. His brow is set in a deep furrow as he stares ahead at the road illuminated only by the headlights. And I want to ask him if he’s okay. But I don’t. And I don’t know why. I think I’m scared. Scared he’ll say he isn’t okay, and that last night was a mistake he wishes he could take back.

  “You quite finished staring at me?” Colt chuckles unexpectedly, causing me to startle.

  He flashes me a mischievous look, and I almost breathe a sigh of relief when I notice the way in which his eyes twinkle beneath the glow of the dash. He smirks knowingly to himself, his hand squeezing my knee. “Keep lookin’ at me like that, and I’m gonna have to pull over on the side of this here road, Quinny,” he rasps, his voice suddenly huskier than usual, causing a flurry of butterflies to erupt in my stomach.

  I can’t stop my own smile as it claims my face, my cheeks flushing.

  Colt’s hand reaches for mine, pulling it to his lips. He kisses the backs of my fingers as his eyes remain trained on me for a moment longer, and in that instant all my breath is stolen from me. He gently places my hand onto his jean-clad thigh, and goes back to watching the winding road ahead as we continue through the night, wherever it may take us.

  ***

  About fifteen minutes later, down a beaten old track, with nothing but the intermittent light of the moon breaking its way through the smattering of clouds guiding our way, Colt’s truck bumps and grinds to a rolling stop at the top of a clearing.

  “Where are we?” I ask, only slightly concerned as I stare out through the windshield. Rolling valleys and fields as far as the eye can see, all the way down to a river, the same river that runs through Black Canyon, all the way up through the middle of Wagner Ranch.

  “This is the place I was telling you about. The place I’m thinking of buying,” Colt says, switching off the rumbling engine. He casts me a reluctant, nervous smile, unfastening his seatbelt. “C’mon. I wanna show you around.”

  I follow suit, unfastening my belt and getting out of the truck. I meet him in front of the grill and he takes my hand in his, leading us down a rocky slope, through some overgrown, bushy spruce trees until we come to a clearing, to a small log cabin that looks like it might fall down if the wind picks up enough.

  “This is it.” Colt holds his hand out, indicating the tiny structure.

  I stand back, taking in the cobwebs hanging down from the eaves. Windows boarded up. A giant gaping hole in the rusted tin roof. I try so hard not to outwardly frown because I can feel how excited he is just being here, but I can’t help casting him a wary once-over, quirking a brow. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but come on.

  “I know it needs a bit of work,” he says with a light chuckle, nudging me playfully with his elbow.

  “A bit of work?”

  He rolls his eyes, ignoring my tone. “But it’s a damn steal. Your brothers said they’ll help me. They said they’ll let me use the ranch hands for a lot of the grunt work.”

  “How much?” I ask, averting my eyes from the dilapidated cabin, choosing instead to focus on the real value of the property, which is the sprawling land that climbs all the way up into the foothills.

  “Just over a hundred acres,” Colt says, continuing, “Just over a million.”

  I shake my head almost immediately.

  “What?”

  “There is no way you’re paying that,” I say with utter confidence. “For a million dollars, you want more than a pile of rotted logs and spiders’ webs to call home.” I point at the dwindling cabin. “They can’t even list this as a livable dwelling.”

  Colt lets go of my hand, shoving both his into the front pockets of his jeans. “You don’t think I should buy it?”

  I look up at him. “Of course you should buy it! If that’s what you want to do. The land is perfect for cattle.”

  “I just want something that’s mine,” he says, bowing his head a moment. “I ain’t never had nothin’ of my own, before.”

  My heart aches from his words.

  Growing up, Colt Henry came from a dirt-poor family. His father, if you can even call him that, would drink and gamble the money away, often leaving Colt and his grandmother without the bare necessities they needed to survive. His father ended up in prison when Colt was nine, which is where he should have been the whole time. When we were kids, Colt spent a lot of time at our house. I always assumed it was just because he and Tripp were best friends. But then I found out it was because his grandmother didn’t want him home when his dad rolled in drunk from a night of gam
bling. She bore the brunt of her son’s despicable behavior, sparing Colt, and he stayed at our house, where he was safe. When his grandmother died, Colt had no one but us.

  “I’d be offering no more than seven and a half. Best and absolute final.” I glance at the cabin one last time, waving my hand in its direction. “And I’d be demanding that they demolish and remove this whole … situation … before you even consider signing anything.”

  Colt regards me for a moment, looking me up and down, the hint of a smile ghosting over his lips.

  “What?” My brows knit together.

  The moon shines through a break in the clouds, illuminating his face, dimples and all. “You’re pretty damn sexy when you go all businesswoman-like.”

  I bite back my smile, my cheeks flushing, but he just laughs quietly, moving behind me. His arms come around my waist and he ducks his head down, his lips pressing against my neck, causing my skin to prick with goose bumps, butterflies erupting in my belly, doing somersaults and cartwheels. I sigh contentedly, relaxing back against his chest, my eyes closing a moment as I bask in his closeness, against the gentle lull of his heart.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  My eyes open when his hold of me tightens almost instinctively, adding to the hesitation within his question. I turn in his arms, looking up at him, finding his gaze fixed on me, full of a nervous fragility.

  “Of course. You can ask me anything. Always.” I place a hand against his chest, over his heart, where I know my name is permanently etched into his skin.

  He swallows hard, his eyes flitting down to my lips and lingering for no more than a second before fixing on mine again. “D-did you mean what you said? About staying here?”

  I stare at him, studying him so closely I can see he’s holding his breath, and I nod.

  His hands on my waist grip me even harder, his fingers digging into my skin painfully. But it’s a bearable pain because it’s full of his unrelenting fear, and I hate that there is clearly something going on in that head of his that is causing this unexplainable anxiety.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Colt.” I shake my head, staring deep into his eyes. “I’m staying right here.”

  He releases the breath he’s been holding, closing his eyes a moment as if to fully allow my words to sink in. He rests his forehead against mine, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me flush against him.

  “Promise me.” His voice is quiet, hushed, hopeful.

  I snake my arms around his neck, my fingers dancing through the longer lengths of his hair as they curl at his nape. “Promise you what?”

  He pulls back just enough to gauge me with a look so all-consuming, so penetrating and full of an almost unbearable weight. His brow furrows as he studies me, studies every single part of me as if he’s looking inside of me, right through to the very fiber of my being. I’ve never been looked at like this before.

  “Promise me, no matter what, you won’t leave me again.” His voice is barely a whisper, but it’s a whisper I don’t miss. Between the pain laced through each one of his words, the way he’s holding me so desperately, and the fraught look of trepidation in his eyes, my stomach twists painfully.

  “Colt, I promise.” I shake my head again, never once breaking the intense gaze he’s set upon me. “I’m not going to leave you.” And, in an attempt to break the somewhat uneasy air that’s settled heavily between us, I manage a wry smile, leaning in even closer. “I’m sorry, but you’re stuck with me.”

  Colt’s shoulders sag, and he releases another sigh, pulling me closer. He holds me against him, burying his face into my hair, muttering how much he’s missed me, how much he loves me, how he can’t bear the thought of ever losing me again. And although I’ve wanted nothing more than to hear him say these words, it’s these same words I’ve been desperate to hear that suddenly terrify me more than anything as Tripp’s warning flashes through my mind.

  Be careful. A lot of shit has happened. I don’t want either of you to get hurt.

  ***

  It’s after two when Colt pulls up to the main house once again.

  The night is silent. Cold. Dark and still.

  I glance up at the sprawling home I spent the first eighteen years of my life growing up in, the windows softly aglow against the black of the night sky. And I smile when my eyes land upon my bedroom window, the delicate lace curtain doing nothing to conceal the soft pink walls inside.

  “Do you remember that first night you scaled the verandah railing and tapped on my window?”

  I don’t even have to look at Colt to know that he’s smiling.

  “Yeah,” he says, his voice hushed through the silence of the truck cab. “I remember lying there, on the top bunk in Tripp’s room, staring at the ceiling, listening for his breathing to even out. Man, my heart was racing, each beat was deafening. It echoed in my ears; I was sure he’d be able to hear it. I knew that what I was about to do would risk everything, but I did it anyway.”

  I grin at the memory. I’d been lying in bed all night staring up at the ceiling, just like Colt had been. I remember thinking what I might do in the instance it ever happened, if my schoolgirl fantasy actually came true and he knocked on my door in the middle of the night, or tapped on my window. I doubted it would ever happen. I was certain it was all just a stupid teenage dream. But that night, it did happen. And it was that night everything changed.

  “Your dad knew.”

  At that, I snap my head to the side, finding Colt smirking to himself, his head ducked low as he stares up at my bedroom window through the windshield.

  “What?” I balk, gaping at him.

  He chuckles lightly, meeting my eyes. “He knew. He told me. He knew everything we did. Every night I came sneaking into your room. Every morning I crept out before the crack of dawn. He said he let it slide back then because he knew, no matter what he did, no matter how many times he kicked my ass, we were gonna be together whether he liked it or not.”

  I huff an incredulous laugh, searching Colt’s eyes. “He actually told you this?”

  He nods. “Yeah. A couple years back. He was always rooting for us. Back then, and … after everything that happened.”

  I look back out at the house, thinking back to all the times my dad threatened to take Colt out to the back paddock, to the same back paddock he used to take his old, lame horses and put them out of their misery. All the times he used to clear his throat excessively loudly when he would walk into the room to see Colt with his arm draped around my shoulders, glaring at him until he removed it, reminding him that he had a shotgun and a shovel. All the times he made our adolescent love lives a living hell. And all I can do is smile to myself.

  I reach over, taking Colt’s hand in mine, casting him a shy smile. “Do you want to come up?”

  But suddenly, his smile is gone, and it feels like a slap to the face when he moves his hand away from mine, choosing instead to place it onto the steering wheel, gripping tight.

  My brow furrows in confusion. What the hell just happened?

  “Actually … I-I have to go.”

  I blink at him. “Go? Where? It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

  He avoids my dubious gaze, raking his teeth over his bottom lip, his telltale stalling sign.

  “Colt?” I press. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve gotta sleep …” He shrugs, still not meeting my eyes. “Cattle drive tomorrow, all the way up to Eagle Hawk Neck.”

  I study him for a long moment, glancing from his death-like grip on the steering wheel, to the way his teeth are so obviously gritting together, causing his stubbled jaw to tense painfully tight. His eyes are hard, conflicted, full of a haphazard plethora of emotion that I just can’t seem to decipher.

  “Colt? What the hell is going on?” I shake my head, grabbing his arm, forcing him to look at me, but when he does, I see nothing but defeat, and it causes my stomach to sink.

  He quickly averts his eyes down to his lap, and panic begins to
course through me.

  “What is it? Mere seconds ago we were laughing about sneaking up into my bedroom. Less than an hour ago, you were holding me so tight like you couldn’t bear to let me go, making me promise that I’ll never leave you, kissing me with all you had beneath the Canyon moon.” I’m incredulous and desperate as I continue. “Now, you can’t even look at me!”

  Colt hesitates a moment, cursing under his breath before reluctantly and tentatively taking my hand in his, staring down at our intertwined fingers, but he still won’t look at me. “I spent so long missing you, Quinn. So long,” he hisses, shaking his head.

  I watch as his eyes squeeze shut so tight, as if his mind is clouded with memories of the pain he went through all those years ago. The pain that is still very much real, like a wound that just won’t heal no matter how long it’s been.

  “Every day I missed you. Every night I missed you even more.” He continues, “I can’t bear the thought of going through that pain again, of losing you, again.”

  I shift in my seat, placing my other hand over his and holding him so tight. “I’m not going anywhere, Colt. I promise. You need to believe me. I know it’s difficult to trust me again after what I did to you, but you have to—I’m here. Now!”

  “This isn’t about what you did,” he interjects, his voice slightly raised, hoarse with emotion and painfully raw, echoing through the silence.

  I stop, snapping my mouth shut as I watch him.

  Slowly, he looks at me, his eyes glossy and cautious. “I’ve done some … some shit I’m not proud of … And I’m so scared that you’re gonna … you’re gonna hate me.”

  His words and the starkness of them render me breathless. He’s serious. Whatever he’s done, is serious. This is his past. This is what I’ve been waiting for. But could it really be that bad? I stare at him, my mind reeling with what it is he could have possibly done that would make him even think it might make me hate him.

  “Colt,” I begin, pausing to think of what I can possibly say to make him believe me. “I could never hate you. You’re the love of my life. I’ve spent ten years missing you more than I ever thought was possible to miss a person. Ten years of my life were spent with this giant, gaping hole in my chest where my heart once sat.” I gauge him closely, squeezing his hand. “Whatever it is you that think you’ve done, we can get through it. Together. You just need to talk to me. Please? Please just talk to me.” I plead with all that I have, and the tone in my voice is almost pathetic. But I no longer care.