Sweet Home Montana Page 21

  Rylie’s face falls in stark realization, and she takes a tentative step over the threshold. “Quinn, it’s not what—”

  “Who is it, Ry?” Colt’s voice calls from inside.

  I watch Rylie close her eyes, bowing her head just as the door is pulled open, and suddenly Colt appears over her shoulder, smiling obliviously, Rylie’s daughter, Emmy, giggling in delight as she balances precariously on his shoulders, squealing with laughter. And it’s at that moment I realize just how stupid I am. I should’ve known. And I guess a part of me did know. I saw it in that little girl’s eyes, those eyes that are so much like his it’s actually scary.

  I tear my gaze away from Emmy, meeting Colt’s, and the sudden heaviness in his stare tells me all I need to know.

  “Hey, I know that lady!” Emmy points at me with a dimpled smile as Colt places her carefully back down onto the floor. She waves at me. “Hi!”

  I want to wave back. More than anything I want to wave and to smile, because none of this is her fault. But I can’t find it in me to even move. I’m frozen. Hell, I can’t even fake a smile right now. I can’t do much at all as I look from Colt to Rylie, to Emmy who is a heartbreakingly beautiful combination of the both of them. And, as we stand there staring at each other in some kind of awkwardly silent stand-off, my heart comes to a sudden and crashing halt, shattering into a million jagged pieces in the pit of my belly, the crushing reality setting in.

  Time stops.

  Everything stops.

  Hell, it almost feels as if the world itself stops.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t …” I take a stumbling step backward, staggering unsteadily. I reach for the railing, gripping onto it for dear life as I turn and hurry to the stairs.

  “Quinn, wait!” Colt yells.

  I stop. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the pleading desperation in his voice. I don’t know. But I stop long enough to glance over my shoulder, watching as he tears his fingers through his hair, glancing momentarily down at Emmy, his daughter. But I shake my head, dismissing whatever it is he’s going to try and tell me. I can’t deal with this right now. I turn and hurry down the stairs as fast as my feet can carry me. He doesn’t need to tell me a single thing. I get it. I don’t need his words.

  “Quinn!” Rylie’s voice calls after me.

  I ignore them both, running across the yard to my car with everything that I have, desperate to get the hell away.

  Chapter 24

  By the time I make it back to the main house I’m an emotional wreck, I don’t even know how I made it here in one piece. Between the racking sobs and the blinding tears, I had my foot down on the gas the entire way, barely dodging trees, fences, bumps in the road.

  With tears streaming down my face, I ran straight into the house, up the stairs, and into my father’s bedroom. I threw myself onto his bed, curled up into a ball, and hugged his pillow so tight. I needed something, anything, to remind me of him. And I’ve been here for what feels like an eternity, crying inconsolably, my tears soaking through the sheets.

  To be honest, I don’t even know why I’m crying. It just hurts. It’s an unimaginable pain, like nothing I could have ever been prepared to feel. I can barely breathe through the overwhelming emotion, consuming me as it courses through my entire being in waves.

  Colt has a child. A beautiful, six-year-old little girl. She is his. And Rylie is her mom. I should have realized when I looked into Emmy’s eyes, the moment I noticed something within her green gaze. Now it’s blatantly obvious. Those eyes are exactly like her father’s. Her smile, her dimples. That was the connection I initially felt with her; the pull I felt when I was with her. She is a tiny version of him. God, I feel like such an idiot.

  You’re that girl? Rylie’s words and the stark look in her eyes when she must have realized who I was, flashes through my mind.

  She knew. Everyone knew. Everyone, except me.

  My father knew …

  I swear, I’ve never felt more betrayed in my whole life.

  But it isn’t the fact that Colt has a daughter.

  It isn’t even the fact that everyone knew, and yet nobody saw fit to tell me, despite the fact that they had seven years to do so.

  None of that even matters.

  What does matter, what hurts like hell, is that I know now, regardless of how we feel about one another, Colt and I can never be. He may love me, but I saw that look in Rylie’s eyes, I saw her heartache, I felt her pain. She’s in love with him. With the father of her child. Who am I to stand in the way of Emmy’s parents being happy together?

  A gentle knock sounds upon the bedroom door, and I squeeze my eyes shut, taking a few deep breaths. Maybe if I don’t say anything, whoever it is will just go away and leave me alone. But of course that doesn’t happen, and another knock sounds against the wood, before it opens ever so slightly.

  “Quinn?” Tripp’s voice is hushed as it breaks through the silence.

  Gripping the pillow tighter, I say nothing as a sob bubbles in the back of my throat, desperate for release. But I hold it in.

  Tripp sighs heavily from the doorway, and a second later I hear the sound of his boots creaking over the hardwood floors, coming closer. I keep my eyes shut tight, even when I feel the foot of the mattress dip, even when I feel a hand gently rest against my knee.

  “Quinny,” he begins in a whispered voice so unlike him. “Quinny, please look at me.”

  I bury my face into the pillow, sniffling back that same pesky sob that’s threatening me. “Will you please just tell me now?” I plead, my voice muffled. “After everything, can you just tell me the truth?”

  He sighs again. “It started about a year after the accident,” he finally says, his voice gruff and reluctant. “Colt was going through rehabilitation. Learning to walk again. But he was so depressed. He barely ate. Hardly slept. He got addicted to these pain pills, and no matter what, the damn doctor kept prescribing them.” He pauses, sniffing once. “We tried to get him clean. Hell, Dad even got him a place at this exclusive spot in Utah. But he refused to go. Nothing worked. He was in a bad place, and … Well, I guess I feel partly responsible, because if I didn’t force you to leave … if you’d been there when he woke up in hospital, then maybe everything would have been okay.” He releases a trembling breath, and I turn my head, glancing at him to see him scrub a hand over his weary face.

  “It wasn’t until he met Rylie that he started to clean himself up.”

  At the mention of Rylie, I exhale a shaky breath, resting my cheek on my forearms, settling my gaze straight ahead at the big bay window that looks out into the darkness of the night.

  “Rylie didn’t know nothin’ about what happened. All she knew is that he’d been hurt by a girl. He did something stupid. And he needed someone. And, for a while, the two of them were good.”

  My stomach twists at that thought. I close my eyes momentarily, and my mind is inundated with visions of Rylie and Colt together. And it makes me feel sick, because now that I see it, they’re almost perfect for one another.

  Tripp continues, “Rylie fell hard for Colt. But then, after a while, Colt changed. He started being horrible to her. Treating her like shit. And I knew why. It was because, no matter how hard he tried to pretend, Rylie wasn’t you. He used her to try and forget about you, about everything he lost.”

  I rake my teeth painfully over my bottom lip, listening to the sad story that breaks my heart even more. For Colt. But for Rylie, mostly. That poor girl.

  “For a long time Colt wasn’t a good guy, Quinny. He was an asshole. A sullen prick, completely against the world and everyone who only ever wanted to help him. Including Rylie.”

  I close my eyes again as another sob racks through me.

  “Eventually, Rylie woke up to herself, and she realized that Colt would never want her the way he would forever want you. So, she ended it, and she was going to go home to New Mexico, but then she found out she was pregnant. So she stayed until she had the baby, but then Colt chan
ged. It was Emmy who finally made him wake up. And he was his old self again. So, Rylie decided to stay.”

  Tears burn my cheeks, sliding down over my lip, and I wipe them away with the sleeve of my sweater, sniffling back the overwhelming emotion as it tries so hard to get the better of me.

  “I know I should have told you. I wanted to. But I didn’t … And I’m so sorry. I really hoped Colt would have told you over the years.”

  I shake my head. “Nope. He didn’t tell me. But I guess … why should he? I was just the girl who broke his heart.”

  “But you weren’t just the girl who broke his heart, Quinny,” Tripp argues, pulling my hand and forcing me to look at him. “You were the love of his life. He cried every damn day over you, over what he lost. All he wanted was you. You’ve always been the love of his life. He just made some shitty mistakes in the time it took him to get you back. You can’t hold that against him.”

  “I’m not angry with him,” I admit. “I’m angry with myself.”

  “Yourself?”

  I sniffle again, forcing myself to sit with a heaving sigh. I nod. “I’m the one who left. I’ve been gone for so long. I never called. Never anything. And I just expected to come back and everything would be the same.” I scoff, scrubbing my hands over my face. “If I had stayed, this never would have happened. Hell, if I didn’t leave the love of my life at the altar because I was too damn focused on chasing my dreams, none of this would have happened. Everything would be so different.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” Tripp offers, ever the voice of reason. “But Colt still loves you more than anything.” He ducks down, catching my eyes. The tiniest smile pulling at his lips. “You can’t deny that.”

  I stare down at the rug on the hardwood. “Yeah,” I say with a shrug, wondering now if love is really enough. I don’t doubt Colt loves me. And I love him more than anything. But everything has changed now. I bury my head in my hands.

  “You need to talk to Colt,” Tripp says, gently patting my back.

  “I know,” I mutter into my hands.

  And, like clockwork, the sound of footsteps echoes through the house, pounding up the stairs, and after a few seconds the bedroom door swings opens, followed by panting, breathless gasps. But I don’t look. I already know it’s him. I can feel him. Sense him.

  “Quinn?” His broken voice pleads through the silence of the room, and it’s almost heartbreaking.

  All I can do is close my eyes tight, my hands still covering my face.

  “Quinn, please?” His footsteps come closer. “Please talk to me!”

  With a deep, racking breath, I force myself to look up, opening my eyes, staring straight ahead at nothing in front of me. I can feel Tripp’s intense gaze on me, his hand remaining on my back in a show of support. And, probably against my better judgment, I find myself moving, standing on jelly-like legs, turning to see Colt gaping at me, looking like half the man I know him to be.

  “Please, Quinny …” He shakes his head, his glassy eyes red-rimmed and full of desperation as they implore my own. “Please let me explain.”

  I bite down hard on my bottom lip, staring at him for a moment. From his wayward hair sticking up every which way, which looks as if he’s been tearing his hands through it. Tired, weary eyes full of dismay. The haphazardly fastened flannel shirt he’s obviously just thrown over his T-shirt in haste. My heart breaks for him, for his current state, and I know that I owe it to him to hear him out.

  I offer a small nod to my brother, walking around the bed, and I step past Tripp, avoiding his eyes, leading Colt back out of my father’s bedroom, waiting momentarily for him to follow me. When I hear him behind me, I continue down the hall, mentally preparing myself for whatever it is he feels he so desperately needs to explain to me.

  He’s so close behind me as I walk through the door and into my bedroom. So close, in fact, I can feel his breath on the back of my neck, smell his intoxicating scent, feel his fraught hopelessness as he stays so close, yet carefully keeps what little distance he can bear to keep from me.

  A big part of me wants to turn around and wrap my arms around him, cry with him, and kiss him, tell him that everything is going to be okay, that we can get through this. But, a bigger part of me doesn’t do that, because she knows the truth. Everything isn’t going to be okay. I don’t know if this is something we can get through because I don’t know if I can be that woman. The woman who comes back into town as if nothing ever happened, and turns everyone’s life upside down. Colt has a life here. He’s a father. He has a family. I don’t know if I can put myself in the middle of that, knowing how in love with her baby-daddy Rylie truly is.

  I step into my room, moving to the furthermost corner from him. I don’t say anything as I stand at the window, wrapping my arms around me in an attempt to stop the shivers from coursing through me. He remains tentatively by the door, watching me. Too close, yet so far. He lingers. I can almost hear his mind working overtime with what he should or shouldn’t say.

  “Say whatever it is you need to say,” I murmur with a casual shrug as if I don’t care. But I do care. More than anything. So much so, I close my eyes, waiting with bated breath.

  “I need you to look at me,” his raspy voice whispers, so broken each word cracks.

  I just shake my head, keeping my eyes closed. “I can’t.”

  I hear him sigh, a defeated sigh full of torment and torture, and the sound alone is almost enough to crush my stubborn resolve. But I stand my ground. I can’t risk looking at him, for his sake as much as mine.

  “I wanted to tell you. I swear to God, I wanted to tell you. Years ago. I had your number memorized in my head, and I was gonna call you, and tell you when I first found out she was pregnant. But … I didn’t.”

  Tears prick my eyes, but I keep them shut so tight as I repeat his admission, “But you didn’t.”

  “At first, I stopped myself from calling to tell you because I fucking hated you and, as far as I was concerned, you didn’t deserve to know. It was none of your damn business.”

  I swallow hard, steadying my breath. I reach up and grab hold of the wall, gripping it tight when my knees go weak.

  “When I finally moved past that hate, I was going to call you after Emmy was born to tell you, but I stopped myself then because … because I was fucking terrified that you would hate me.”

  I hear Colt sniffle, and that sound causes my own tears to seep through my lashes, spilling onto my cheeks.

  “I’m sorry for not telling you, Quinn. I made the biggest mistake of my life. I’ll never forgive myself. But I won’t apologize for Emmy—God, I fucking love that little girl more than I ever thought I could ever love anyone. She’s the best damn thing to happen to me in—”

  I open my eyes at that. “You think I’m upset because of your daughter?”

  He blinks at me, his own cheeks damp, eyes red and swollen.

  “That’s what you think of me?” I sob. “You think I’m upset because you have a kid?”

  He goes to speak, but I cut him off, raising a trembling hand in the air. “This isn’t about Emmy, Colt.” I shake my head. “It’s been ten years. For all I know you could have gone and had a whole bunch of kids in that time, and that would be none of my business.” I take a moment to really collect myself, to gather my thoughts and my emotions. “Yeah, it would have been nice to have been told, but I’m not mad at you for that. And, in fact, I’m not mad at you at all. I’m just … I’m sad.”

  A fresh wave of tears falls as I take a seat on the very edge of the window box. “I’m sad because all I ever wanted was to be with you. And I could’ve been with you. But I gave it up. And I left because I had this stupid notion in my head that I had to chase my dreams so I wouldn’t wind up like my mom. But after a while I realized that my dreams were just that. Dreams. I was so hell-bent on getting out of this town that I forgot what I had here. I lost everything. I had my happy ever after in the palm of my hand, and I threw it away.”

 
; Colt drops down onto the chest at the end of my bed, his head in his hands, his shoulders trembling from his own sobs as he tears violently at his hair, muttering, “We can still have our happy ever after, Quinny.”

  I shake my head. “No, because now it just feels like too much has happened, too much has changed. I missed so much. I missed years with my dad. I missed everything with you. Everything is different now. And maybe … maybe I belong in New York, and you belong here with Emmy and—” I stop when he jumps up from the chest.

  Crossing the room to me, his hands break through my invisible barrier, cupping my face, the pads of his thumbs wiping at my tear-stained cheeks. He crouches down so close, his eyes flaming as they bore into mine, and the look within them is almost feral, I can’t help but gasp. I grab at the hem of my sweater, my fingers twisting at the wool, tearing at it, anything to stop myself from actually reaching out and touching him. I can’t. I just can’t risk it.

  “Please, baby. Please! You promised me you wouldn’t leave me again,” he hisses through gritted teeth, so close, our foreheads touching. “I should’ve told you. I wish I could go back and tell you. But I didn’t and I can’t. But I need you, Quinny. I need you to please stay. I can’t lose you again. I can’t. I won’t. I’m fucking shit without you.” He’s sobbing through his words, and he closes his eyes, his nose touching mine, his lips less than a hairsbreadth from my own. I can feel his tears mix with mine as our cheeks graze together, his breath hot and hushed. When he edges just close enough for his mouth to brush against my own, that’s my undoing.

  My hands grip his shirt, fisting the flannel when our lips crash together. I pull him even closer when his tongue pushes inside my mouth, allowing him all the access I can give him. But still, it doesn’t feel enough. I need him, more than anything. All of him. Right now he is all I need. My fingers tear blindly at the buttons on his shirt, pulling and yanking them until they either snap or pop. I don’t care, nor do I have time to wait. I don’t care that I’m a mess of emotion and pain and heartache. I don’t care that I can taste Colt’s tears on my lips. I don’t care about much at all right now, except how bad I need to feel him, and only him. I pull away from our kiss just long enough to pull my sweater up over my head, leaving me in just my bra and jeans.