Crashed

CHAPTER 18

The heat of the morning sun warms my skin, chased by the cool blow of the ocean’s breeze. The stereo we forgot to turn off last night plays Matt Nathanson’s voice just barely audible above the noise of the surf. I snuggle in closer to Colton, so content with the unexpected turn our lives have taken when we more or less crashed into one another that I swear my heart hurts from the enormity of it all. With the second chances we’ve both been given—that we’re both slowly accepting—that a year ago we could have never imagined.

I squint my eyes, thankful for the trellis above that blocks the sun from where we fell asleep last night on the bed of chaise lounges. I don’t even bother to suppress the sigh of a more than satisfied woman as I reminisce making slow, sweet love to him under a blanket of stars and in a bed made of possibilities.

I recall rising over him, sinking down onto him, and watching the unguarded emotion flow through his eyes. How the soft and slow with Colton is just as mind blowing as the hard and fast. How a man used to showing no emotion—used to guarding his heart at all costs—is slowly opening up, moving each brick one at a time, allowing the key to turn in the lock.

I smile softly as I lift my head and look at all the reminders of last night. How sweet the gesture was from a man who swears he doesn’t subscribe to the notion of romance, when everything around us screams just the opposite. What man calls in a favor from his dad to get a copy of his not-released-yet but soon-to-be-blockbuster movie so he can have an uninterrupted date night with his girlfriend? And even though I came to find out he had Quinlan’s help, it was all his idea … the little touches here and there, because it’s the little things that mean so much more to me than the extravagant ones.

I raise my head up from where it rests on his chest and watch him sleep, let my love for him warm the parts of me the breeze has cooled. “I can feel you watching me,” he says groggily with a curl of his lip even though his eyes remain closed.

“Mmm-hmm.” I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Whose idea was it to sleep out here? It’s too damn bright.” He shifts, eyes still closed, but brings the arm that rests behind his head down to pull me closer to him.

“I believe the words were, ‘Your voodoo pussy has worked its magic and stolen mine. I have no energy to move,’” I repeat, not hiding the smug look on my face or the pride in my voice.

“Nope, definitely not my words,” he says before cracking open an eye and looking over to me, that salacious smirk I love displayed proudly. “I’ve got magic in spades, baby, it must have been some other guy your voodoo sucked the life from.”

I fight back the urge to laugh because that gravelly morning voice and those sleepy eyes are the perfect combination of sexy, making it extremely hard to feign nonchalance. “Yeah, you’re right. Remember, I don’t do bad boys such as yourself.” I shrug. “It was that clean-shaven guy I see on the side. The one who gives me what you can’t,” I taunt as I lift the sheet resting over our hips and peek under it, my eyes roaming greedily over his impressive morning hard-on. My muscles, slightly sore from last night, immediately clench in welcome anticipation of more to come. I close my eyes to hide the desire I’m sure clouds them and make a satisfied moan.

“See something you like? Something he can’t give you?” I love the playful tone in his voice.

I make sure my voice is even when I speak because all of this bantering foreplay is making me crave what is beneath my fingertips.

“No worries.” I force the words out as I look up from beneath my eyelashes to find his eyes dancing with humor. “This woman is more than satisfied. No need to experience your magic when that man can drive his stick down the homestretch like you wouldn’t believe.”

Within a heartbeat Colton has flipped me on my back and hovers over me, weight resting on one elbow, and his other hand cuffing my wrists above my head. His face is inches from mine, smirk locked in place, and eyebrows raised in challenge. “I believe my words the other day were a long, fucking time,” he says, pressing his erection at my apex. “There’s the long, sweetheart, now we just need to fulfill the fucking time part of it.”

I start to belt out a laugh but it ends in a pleasurable moan as he sinks into my willing body. I’m not fully ready for his entrance, and although this would normally hurt, it doesn’t. Instead it adds the perfect amount of friction to awaken every nerve possible, including any he might have missed last night.

“Sweet fucking Jesus, you feel like Heaven woman,” he murmurs into my ear as his hips pull out and slide back forward, his one hand still pinning my hands above me. In an oddly intimate action, he lowers his face and rests it just beneath the curve of my neck so each time he withdraws and sinks back into me, the scrape of his stubble and the warmth of his breath teases my skin. And maybe it’s because of his face being so closely positioned by my ear or just that we are so in tune with one another again, but there’s something about the sounds he makes that are such a turn on. Grunts turn into moaning sighs, audible satisfaction.

I try to move my arms but his grip holds me still. “Colton,” I pant as my body starts to quicken, warmth spreading, the desire coiling so tight I’m waiting for it to spring free. “Let me touch you.”

“Hmm?” he murmurs, the vibration of his mouth against my neck rolling through me. He moves again, grinding his hips in a circular motion, cock hitting hidden nerves, before he pulls back out and angles up so he rubs against my clit adding a pleasurable friction that has me forgetting all thoughts about needing my hands to be released. He chuckles, knowing exactly what he’s just done. “That feel good?”

“God yes!” I moan as he does it again, my thighs starting to tense and my skin becoming flushed as the tidal wave of sensation surges in preparation for its final assault on my body.

“I know I’m good, baby, but God might get a little jealous if you start comparing us.”

The playful tone, the lazy lovemaking, because this is making love for us—he may call it racing, but this … murmured words, utter acceptance, complete knowledge of the other’s body, comfort—is most definitely him showing me how he loves me.

I can’t help the carefree laugh that falls from my mouth any more than I can help the arch of my back and the angling of my hips on his next thrust in his slow, skillful rhythm. “Well … be prepared to get jealous in turn,” I taunt, causing him to lift his head from his position on my neck and scrape his whiskers purposefully across my bare nipple causing unfettered need to mainline straight to where he is manipulating so expertly between my thighs. He raises his eyebrows at me in amusement, trying to figure out what exactly I mean as his hips rotate again within me, and I’m lost.

To the moment.

To him.

To the orgasm singlehandedly ripping through my body and drowning me in its overwhelming sensations.

To the, “Oh God, oh God, oh God!” that falls from my lips as wave after wave surges through me.

And I succumb to the haze of my desire but I hear him chuckle when he realizes just why I thought he might be jealous. My body is still pulsing around him, still coming, when he leans down into my ear, his morning rasp adding a soft tickle to the violent sensations reverberating through me. “You may be calling his name now, sweetheart, but in a minute you’re going to be thanking me,” he says as he nips my shoulder with his teeth before my hands are released and the warmth of his body leaves mine.

I’m so lost in riding out my climax that the warmth of his mouth on my already sensitive flesh has me calling out his name, hands fisting in the hair on his head positioned between my legs, tongue sliding along the length of my seam. “Colton!” I cry as his tongue licks into me, drawing out the intensity of my orgasm, prolonging the free fall of ecstasy. “Colton!” I say again, starting to squirm my hips against his mouth as the pleasure becomes almost too much to bear.

He licks his tongue back up again and this time keeps going, drawing a line of open mouth kisses and licks up my belly, chest, and neck to my mouth so when his tongue pushes between my lips, I can taste my own arousal. His mouth on mine absorbs my gasped moan as he enters me once again and begins to chase his own orgasm.

When he pulls back from my mouth and sits back on his knees, holding my legs apart as he starts to move within me, he grants me that lightning flash grin I can never resist. “I told you, it would be my name you were calling in the end.”

I start to say something but he grips my hips and rears back and thrusts into me. The start of a punishing rhythm that has my hands gripping the sheets and his name becomes a pant on my lips as he takes us to the edge together.

“What’d Becks want?” I ask Colton as I walk into his office and lean my backside on the desk to face him. If it weren’t for my positioning, I would have missed the uncertainty flicker through his eyes before he grimaces.

“Is it a bad one?” I ask of the headache I can tell he’s trying to hide.

“Nah, not too bad. They’re getting fewer and farther between,” he says falling silent as he unbends the paperclip in his hand with fierce concentration.

“Becks?” I prompt, sensing that something is wrong.

“He uh, asked if I wanted to reserve some time at the track since they book out far in advance. To make sure I had some time if I wanted it.” He averts his eyes and focuses on the paperclip he’s unfolding with his fingers. “He thinks I should get back in the car.”

Fucking Beckett!

I want to scream at the top of my lungs but settle for chastising him silently. Okay. I’ve gotten my unfounded anger out at him for doing what I agree is right, but it still doesn’t mean I like it … at all. I’d feel a whole hell of a lot better if I had a punching bag too because I’m still terrified by the thought of Colton suited up and behind the wheel, but the question is, is Colton?

“What are your thoughts on it? Are you ready?”

He sighs and leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head and looking up to the ceiling. “Nah,” he says finally, drawing the word out, stalling for time for his explanation. “Yesterday I—” he stops mid-thought and shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter … My hand’s still too fucked up to grip the wheel,” he says. And I know it’s a bullshit lie since he had no problem holding me up so he could have his way with me against the front door yesterday, but I know saying it out loud would be akin to kicking a man when he’s down; not only would I know he’s scared, but I’d also be proving he’s lying.

But his aborted explanation that he didn’t complete, mixed with his comment yesterday about it being a rough day, collide together not so subtly in my mind. I move without asking and sit across his lap and nestle into him. He blows out a resigned breath before unlacing his fingers and closing his arms around me.

“What happened yesterday?” I ask after a moment. I can feel his body pause momentarily, and I kiss his bare chest beneath my lips as a silent sign of support.

“I watched the replay.”

He doesn’t need to say anything further. I know perfectly well what replay he's referring to because I still can’t bring myself to watch it. “And how did you handle it?”

His body vibrates with an unsettled energy, and when he starts to shift beneath me, I can tell that he needs to release some of it. I move off his lap and when he rises and walks to the window, I sink back into the leather, still warm from his body.

Colton shoves a hand through his hair, tension evident in the bare muscles of his back as he looks out the window to the beach down below. He forces out a laugh. “Well, if you call a grown man crawling around on the fucking floor naked while he dry heaves from the goddamn panic attack after every single fucking feeling from the crash hits him like a sucker punch,” he says, voice thick with sarcasm, “then shit, if that’s considered handling it? Then fuck yeah … I’d say I aced that motherfucking test.” He rolls his shoulders and walks out of the office without a backward glance. I exhale the breath I’m holding when I hear the door to the patio slide open and then shut behind him.

I let some time pass, lost in my thoughts, my heart hurting for Colton’s obvious struggle between needing and fearing racing, and I stand up to go find him.

I walk out onto the patio and hear the splash of water before I see his long, lean figure slicing through the top of the water with graceful fluidity. He covers the distance of the pool quickly, reaches the end and does some kind of underwater flip and resurfaces before heading the other way.

I sit cross-legged on the edge of the pool and admire his natural athleticism—the rippling of muscles, his complete control over his body—and wonder if this absolute attraction I have for him has any limitations.

After a bit, he does his underwater turn at the edge farthest from me and instead of immediately starting his stroke again, he flips over on his back and floats, his momentum causing him to drift toward where I’m sitting. He looks so peaceful now, despite his chest expanding from his exertion, and I wish I could see this type of serenity in his features more often.

His torso rises from the water as he lowers his feet to the bottom and scrubs his hands over his face. When he removes them, he looks up, startled to see me sitting there watching him, and the most breathtaking smile spreads across his lips. He scrunches his nose up, reminding me of what he’d look like as a little boy, and any of my concern over his state of mind vanishes.

He walks over to where I sit, eyes locked on mine. “I’m sorry, Ryles.” He shakes his head with a sigh. “It’s hard for me to admit I’m scared to get back in the car.”

His admission shocks the hell out of me. I reach out and run a thumb over his cheek, never more in love with him than right now. “That’s okay. I’m scared too.”

He reaches out to my hips and pulls me closer toward him so he can kiss me. A brush of his lips and the scent of chlorinated water on his skin is all I need to feel right with him again. He starts to say something and then stops. “What?” I ask softly.

He clears his throat, licks his lips, and averts his eyes to the beach beyond. “When I get back in the car … will—will you be there?”

“Of course!” The words are out of my mouth and my arms are wrapped around his wet body instantly, a physical emphasis to my words. I feel his chest shudder and hear the hitch in his breath as he squeezes me tighter. I bring my fingers up and tease his hair with my nails as his face remains nuzzled under my neck.

I love you. The words are in my head, and I have to stop them from coming out of my mouth because the intensity of what I feel for him is indescribable. Unconditional love.

The distant sound of the doorbell ringing from inside the house has us pulling back from one another. I look at him confused. “It’s probably one of the security guys,” he says as I rise and he swims towards the steps.

“I’ll get it,” I tell him as I walk in the house, pulling my now wet shirt away from my body, glad I opted for the red tank top instead of the white one.

My hand is turning the knob, pulling on the slab of wood, when I hear Colton’s voice from outside tell me to “Wait!” but it’s too late. The door’s swinging open and unbeknownst to me, one of my worst nightmares is standing opposite me.

All I can do is sag my shoulders at the sight. Long legs, blonde hair, and a condescending smirk is all I catch before she starts to walk past me and then stops, angling her head over her shoulder to look back at me. “You can run along now, little girl. Playtime is over because Colton doesn’t need you anymore. He’s in good hands now. Momma’s here.”

My jaw drops open, her audacity renders me speechless. Before I can find my words, she breezes into the house like she owns the place, leaving me in the wake of her overpowering perfume.

“Colton?” I shout out at him the same time he walks into the foyer, the towel he’s using to dry his hair drops to the ground.

Several emotions flicker through his eyes, the most prevalent one being annoyance, but his face shows absolutely nothing.

And with Colton, when his face is that cold and devoid of emotion, it means a storm is brewing just beneath.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Tawny?” The ice in his voice stops me in my tracks but doesn’t even faze her.

“Colt, baby,” she says completely unaffected by the bite in his words. “We need to talk. I know it’s been a while and—”

“I’m not in the mood for your melodramatic bullshit so cut the crap.” Colton takes a step farther into the room. “You know you’re not welcome here, Tawny. If I wanted you here before, I would’ve invited you myself.”

I shrink back at the venom lacing his voice, but at the same time, I’m pissed. Pissed that she just waltzed in here—a home where I’m the only woman he’s ever brought—like she deserves to be here.

“Testy, testy,” she scolds playfully, unfazed by his complete disinterest. “I was so concerned about you and how you’re doing and if you’ve gotten your memory back yet that—”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about your concern! You have two seconds. Start talking or I’m throwing your ass out.” Colton takes another step toward her and I can see his grinding jaw and his complete callous disregard for her.

“Just because you’re pissed your recovery is going so slow—that you can’t remember important things—doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me.” Tawny lets out a condescending laugh and turns slightly to look over at me with disbelief in her eyes as if she’s saying “Really? He’s picked you over me?” before she says, “I’m sure this is amusing to you being his nursemaid and all, doll, but you’re no longer needed.”

I’m off the wall in an instant, a ball of anger flying at her, but Colton beats me to the punch. Rage emanates off of him in palpable waves as he grips her bicep. “Time to go!” he growls out as he starts to direct her toward the door. “You don’t come into my house and disrespect, Ry—”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words that float out of her mouth die in the sudden silence of the room, and yet I can see them vibrating within Colton. His body stops, fingers flex on her arm, and teeth grind. It takes a beat for him to catch his stride again, pulling her toward the front door.

“Good for you. Congrats.” He bites out, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Nice knowing ya.” He starts to open the front door as she yanks her arm free.

“It’s yours.”

Colton’s hand stills on the doorknob as my heart twists at the words coming from her lips. I’m watching this unfold—all of it right before my eyes—but I feel like a complete outsider, a hundred miles away. I watch his head sag down between his shoulders for a beat, notice his hands clench in fists at his sides, see the fury rage in his eyes as he turns ever so slowly around. His eyes dart over and hold mine for a beat, and what I see knocks the wind out of me. It’s not the rage they glisten with—no—it’s the disbelief laced apology he’s offering up to me. The apology that tells me deep down he fears her words are true. Lead drops into my stomach as the mask he’s let slip is reapplied, and he turns to direct his anger toward Tawny.

“You and I both know that’s not possible, Tawny.” He takes a step forward and I can see every ounce of restraint he has—how he’s trying so hard to not pick her up and physically throw her out. His eyes dart from her face to her stomach and then back up again.

“What?” she gasps, shock laced with hurt in her voice. “You don’t remember?” She holds a hand to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. “Colton you and I … the night of Davis’ birthday party … you don’t remember that?”

My stomach wrenches because if I thought she might be acting—playing the part to get him back—she just stole the show with the hurt look on her face and desperation in her voice.

Oh my God. Oh my God. It’s my only coherent thought because my entire body trembles with every imaginable emotion possible.

“No,” Colton says, shaking his head back and forth, and the look on his face—the one that says if he keeps repeating no over and over this will all just be a nightmare—kills me. Tears into parts deep inside of me opening me up, preparing me for the onslaught of hurt to come.

“It’s the only possibility,” she says quietly, placing her hand over her midsection where I can see the slight bump now that her shirt is smoothed down. “I’m five months, baby.”

I have to fight the bile that rises in my throat as my faith falters. I have to force myself to breathe. To focus. To realize that this isn’t about me. That this is about Colton’s worst nightmare coming true on the heels of a truly magical night between us. But it’s hard not to.

All my mind can focus on is dates—days past—as her words sink their claws into me. Five months, five months, five months, I repeat over and over because time is so much easier to focus on than the world that’s just been shifted beneath my feet. When my mind can formulate coherent thoughts again, I realize it’s been a little shy of five months since we met. Fuck, it’s possible.

I tell myself she’s lying. That she’s trying to dig her hooks into Colton—catch the prize she wants more than anything—by pulling the I’m pregnant card. The oldest one in the book. But the evidence is there in her swollen belly and the terrified look on Colton’s face says it’s a possibility—that he’s reaching deep within the locked vault of memories and trying to find the one she’s telling him about. Fear flickers across his face, embeds itself in those eyes of his that all of a sudden refuse to look at me.

And no matter how much I want to, I can’t look away. It’s like if I keep staring at him, he’s going to look up at me and give me that smile he gave me moments ago in the pool and she’ll just disappear.

But it never comes.

He stands in the middle of us, motionless, lost in thoughts I can only imagine. The playful man I love from last night is nonexistent. I can see the cogs in his head turning, notice the wince of pain that I’m sure is from another headache hitting him … but if he’s completely frozen, then I’m fucking paralyzed.

Tawny’s eyes flicker over and assess me with complete disregard, before looking back at Colton, a soft smile on her face. “You drove me home from Davis’ house, asked to come in … we had sex, Colton. The first time we were drunk … desperate to be with each other again and didn’t use a condom.”

And if her dagger isn’t already breaking skin and pushing into my heart, she has to add the notion that they were together multiple times to twist it a little deeper.

“Before … when we dated before...” he clears his throat “...you used to be religious about taking your pill.” I don’t recognize his voice, and I’ve been on the receiving end of Colton’s wrath, but right now the absolute contempt in his tone sends shivers up my spine.

“I wasn’t on the pill,” she says softly with an unapologetic shrug as she takes a step toward him, the possible mother of his child. The gentle intimacy in her tone causes tears to spring in my eyes. She reaches out to touch Colton’s arm and he yanks it out of her reach.

His reaction and the unfettered panic in his eyes causes the reality of this all to begin to seep through my denial, the possibility that this isn’t a ploy to merely get him back.

I sag against the wall behind me, my ghosts and inadequacies as a woman threatening to rear their ugly head. I place a hand on my abdomen to stifle the pang I feel in my useless womb. The one that will forever remain empty. The one that can’t give him the only thing she can. I feel the beginnings of a panic attack—breath laboring, heart racing, eyes unable to focus—as I wonder if the man who professes to never want kids just might change his mind when faced with the possibility of one. It happens all the time. And if it does, then where does that leave us? Leave me? The woman who can’t give him that.

“No!” It falls from my lips in response to my silent thoughts.

Colton whips around to look at me quickly, distress etched in his features at my unexpected words. And then she snorts out in disregard and adds gasoline to Colton’s fire.

“Get out!” He shouts so loudly I jump, and for a moment, because he’s facing me, I fear that he’s speaking to me. I force a swallow, his eyes flicking over me before he turns his back to me and points toward Tawny and then the door. “Get. The. Fuck. Out!”

“Colty …”

“Don’t you ever call me that!” he yells, grated steel in his voice as he raises his eyes to look toward where she’s not moved an inch. “No one gets to call me that! Do you think you’re special? Do you think you can just waltz in here and tell me you’re five fucking months pregnant? That I’d care? Why are you telling me now, huh? Because it’s too late for me to have a say in anything, so you think you’ve trapped me? Found your golden fucking ticket?” He begins to pace, lacing his fingers behind his head and blowing out a loud breath. “I’m not Willy fucking Wonka, sweetheart. Go find yourself another sugar daddy.”

“You don’t believe me?”

Colton whirls around in a flash, his gaze meeting mine and the void in his expressionless eyes startles me. Dead eyes look at me momentarily before he breaks our connection and strides back across the room to where Tawny still stands. “You’re goddamn right I don’t believe you. Quit the crap and get the fuck out with your bullshit lies.” He’s inches from her face, eyes glaring, and posture threatening.

“But I still love—”

“You don’t get to love me!” he bellows, fist slamming down on the sideboard next to him, vases rattling and noise resonating in the otherwise quiet of the house. Tawny lets out a sob and Colton remains completely unaffected by her outburst of emotion. “You don’t get to love me,” he repeats again so quietly that I can hear his pain beneath it, feel the desperation roll off of him in waves.

He reaches up and rubs his hands over his face. He looks out the window for a moment toward the tranquility of the ocean as I watch the storm rage inside of him. I’m rocked in the turbulence of his emotions without a lifeline to hold on to. When he looks back at Tawny, I can see so many emotions behind his slipping mask that I’m unsure which one he is going to grab and hold onto.

“I want a paternity test.”

Tawny gasps, her hand resting protectively over her belly, but when I look back up to her face, I watch the transformation happen. I see the damsel in distress morph into the vindictive vixen. “This baby is yours, Colton. I don’t sleep around.”

Colton snorts a laugh with a shake of his head. “Yeah, you’re a regular patron fuckin’ saint.” He stalks to the front door and turns back to look at her. “Go tell it to some other gullible son of a bitch who cares. My lawyer will be in touch.”

“You’re gonna have to come at me with something a hell of a lot bigger than threatening me with your attorney to get out of this one,” she says, straightening her spine. “Get your checkbook ready and your ego prepared for some serious damage, sweetheart!”

“Did you actually think you could just waltz in here, drop your bullshit bomb, and I’d take your word for it? Write you off with a hefty check or marry you and ride off into the motherfucking sunset?” His voice thunders. “It’s. Not. Mine!”

Tawny shrugs her shoulders and a smarmy expression transforms her features. “The press is going to have a field day with how I spin this one … a nice juicy scandal to sink their teeth into.”

She starts to walk toward the front door and just when I think I might be able to take a breath, Colton’s palm slams against the door, the sound assaulting the dead silence of the room. He turns and gets back within inches of her face, his voice trembling with rage. “Newsflash, sweetheart, you better hit me with something stronger than that threat if you think the press scares me. Two can play that game,” he says opening the door. “Make sure you tell them all the juicy details because I sure as fuck won’t hold back. It’s amazing how quick a promising career can be dashed in this town when rumors hit the papers about what a demanding diva one can be. No one wants to work with a fucking bitch, and you definitely fit that bill. Now get the fuck out.”

Tawny walks up to him, stares at him, although he refuses to meet her eyes, and then walks out the front door that shuts with a resounding slam behind her. Colton immediately grabs one of the vases on the sideboard he’d hit moments earlier and throws it against the wall. The shattering sound of glass followed by tinkling as it bounces off the tiled floor is such a contrast to the heaviness of the moment. Not getting the release he needed, he places his hand on the sideboard and braces his weight against it.

I step forward from the shadows of the foyer, still not sure what to do when he looks up and locks his eyes with mine. I try to get a read his emotions but I can’t—his guard is back up and locked in place. The knowledge of how much work it’s going to take to break that wall back down causes a little piece of me to die, to die and fall to rest beside the piece that broke off the day the doctor told me it’d be nothing short of a miracle for me to get pregnant again.

The emptiness of my womb hits me again as I walk toward him. He watches me, jaw ticking, body tense. “Colton … I—”

“Rylee,” he warns, “back the fuck off!”

“What if it’s true? What if you guys really did and you don’t remember?” It’s the only coherent thought I can verbalize, my mind spinning with what-ifs and never-going-to-bes.

“Why?” He turns to face me, and I swallow nervously. “So you can play house?” He takes a step toward me and the look in his eyes has me cringing. “Because you want a baby so bad that you can taste it? Would do anything to have one? Take one that might or might not be mine so you can sink your hooks in me too? Get the best of both worlds, huh? A hefty sum and a baby—every woman’s fucking dream.” His words whip out and slap me, rip apart the part of me that knows I would do anything to have the chance to have a baby. “It’s not true!” His voice thunders at me. “It’s not true,” he says again in too calm of a voice.

I’m stuck in place—wanting to run, wanting to stay, hurting for me, devastated for him—at a crossroads of uncertainty, and all I want to do is curl into a ball and shut the world out. Shut Colton out, and Tawny out, and the ache that will never go away, to feel a baby move within me. To create something out of love with someone I love. Bile threatens at the thought, and I cover my mouth as I gag audibly to prevent myself from puking.

“Yeah, the thought of me being a dad makes me want to puke too.” He sneers at me, so much more than contempt lacing his voice. And that’s not why I’m going to be sick, but I can’t tell him that because I’m too busy trying not to be. “Between the sheets.” He belts out a patronizing laugh, looking up at the ceiling before looking back at me. “How fucking ironic is it when it’s between the sheets with someone else that’s causing this little dilemma, huh, Ryles? How’s that phrase working for ya now?”

“Fuck you.” I say it more to myself than to him, a quiet voice laced with hurt. I’ve had it. He can be upset. His horrible past can be dredging through his mind, but that doesn’t give him the right to be a fucking asshole and take his shit out on me.

He turns to look at me, a picture of fury against the tranquility behind him. “Exactly.” He spits out. “Fuck me.”

And with those parting words, Colton yanks open the door to the deck. I don’t call out to him—don’t care to—and watch him jog down the stairs to the beach with a whistle beckoning Baxter.