Текст книги "Charade"

Автор книги: Nyrae Dawn

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~CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN~

Colt

              “What the fuck is that?” It’s a stupid question, but it’s what comes out of my mouth. It’s obvious it’s a fucking tattoo, but what I don’t understand is why it’s on Mom’s wrist and why Cheyenne is here with her.

              Here.

              With my mom.

              Without me.

              “Colton! Watch your language!” Mom sounds more pissed than I’ve heard her in a long time. I like it because it almost sounds normal. Like she’s okay, but one look at her reminds me she’s not.

              My eyes find her wrist again and I take a few steps forward before I freeze. My name on her wrist. She put my name in her skin.

              Because she’s dying. Because she’s dying and she wanted to take me with her. And I wouldn’t do it for her. Wouldn’t help her. I spent the night in fucking jail while Cheyenne did something for her that I couldn’t.

              “Surprise!” Chey tries to sound happy. I’m jealous of her for that. For having it in her to pretend things are okay unlike me who just gets pissed. For doing something for Mom that I should have done, but didn’t. And when she wanted it, I wouldn’t have been able to do it for her anyway.

              “What are you doing here?” I throw at Cheyenne. She flinches and I feel like a fucking prick, but I can’t make myself take it back either.

              “I would think that’s pretty obvious,” Chey says. I can tell she wants to say a whole lot more than that, but she’s holding off. For Mom.

              “If you’re going to act like that, Colton, you can turn around and walk right back out of here. This isn’t Cheyenne’s fault. I wanted a tattoo and I called her. Frankly it’s none of your damn business.”

              Mom’s words are like a slap because I want Chey to be my business and Mom always has been.

              I step up to them and Chey walks away from the bed. I grab Mom’s wrist and look at the swirl of letters.

              Colton.

              It’s simple. Plain black and not very big. It rests on her pulse point. Christ, it had to hurt for her to get a tattoo there.

              But she did it. For me. She went out there were she could have gotten sick or anything could have happened. “This was stupid, Mom. Where did you go?”

              “Nowhere,” Chey answers for her. “I wouldn’t do that. I brought someone here.”

              I can’t make myself look at Cheyenne which makes me an even bigger asshole than I already was. I’m wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Sat my ass in jail for a baggie with a little weed while she was taking care of my mom.

              I shouldn’t be pissed at her for that.

              “You shouldn’t have done this,” I tell Mom. “I…” don’t want her to die. This somehow means she’s really going to fucking die.

              “I needed to, Colt. I think it’s beautiful. I wanted to do more, but I decided simple was better.”

              I actually want to fucking cry hearing her speak. She never calls me Colt. Never. But she is now. And she needed my name in her skin.

              “Well, it’s my name. It has to look badass.” The words don’t feel nearly as real as I make them sound.

              “That’s more like it,” she says. I lean down and kiss her forehead. She feels clammy.

              “I’m going to go. It looks beautiful, Bev.” Chey walks across the room.

              My eyes dash to Cheyenne, back to Mom and then to Cheyenne again.

              “Maggie was about to help me clean up. Why don’t you go with Cheyenne?” Mom lies. But I do it. I grab onto that lie because I’m fucking weak.

              “Yeah. Okay.” I look at the tattoo again. It’s red and irritated, but does look good. My name. To take me with her.

              Anger and pain collide inside me so strong I feel like I could erupt right here.

              “I’ll see you later.”

              I don’t say a word to Cheyenne as we head outside. Her car is two down from mine. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it.

              “Colt. I didn’t know what to do. She called and I couldn’t get a hold of you. But I’ll tell you right now, I don’t regret it.”

              Is it crazy that I’m proud of her for standing up to me at the same time that I’m pissed at her? “Not now. Meet me at home.”

              Knowing her, she won’t go. Maybe I don’t want her to. I don’t wait around to find out though. I get in the car and drive off.

              The second I pull up I hear music blasting from inside. Just what I don’t fucking need tonight.

              Chey pulls up behind me and slams her door. “You’re being a prick, Colt. It’s just a tattoo. You have a million of them. She’s a grown ass woman if you didn’t notice.”

              “And she’s my mom, Chey. Mine. You should have talked to me first.”

              “I couldn’t get a hold of you!” she screams as we stand in the dying grass. “I called you a hundred times and you didn’t answer. I didn’t—I was—don’t be pissed at me when you didn’t answer your fucking phone!” She throws her hands in the air as though she’s done with me.

              And I wouldn’t blame her.

              “Why are you so mad anyway? Is it because I’m getting too close?”

              Christ, but she’s not close enough if you ask me and that might make me more mad. “I brought you to meet my mom, Cheyenne. That’s as close as anyone’s ever been to me.”

              “Then what the hell is your problem!”

              I suddenly can’t hold it in anymore. No matter how hard I want to. No matter how much I hate the words or the feeling or sharing them out loud. “What’s my problem? I spent the night in fucking jail, Chey. My mom asked me about the tattoo and I was too much a fucking pussy because of shit going on with us to deal with it and I took off. And then—”

              My whole body is tense as I remember the woods. Smashing my phone. Crying. When the fuck was the last time I cried?

              And realizing I wanted her. I really cared about this girl and then… “Yeah. Sorry if I couldn’t answer the phone. I was locked up.”

              And this girl who means way more to me than I ever would have thought, was there for Mom when I couldn’t be.

              I look at her dark eyes that look sad at my revelation about jail. Her plump lips, that I can only see because of the porch light behind us. Her caramel skin and remember what her skin feels like under my hands. Under my body.

              And what I’d decided before those stupid fucking red and blue lights in my rearview.

              That I cared about her.

Looking at her here I know it’s more than that. Fuck, how could I have fallen in love with her? With anyone?

              “I can’t. I have—I gotta go.”

              A voice in my head is screaming at me the whole time I’m walking away from her. Through the dying grass and opening the front door.

              There has to be at least seventy-five people in my house, which is a whole hell of a lot, considering how small it is. I can hardly get through the crowd. The music hurts my ears. People grab and talk to me as I push my way toward the hall.

              I don’t know what it is, but I remember that night at the party with Chey. When I found her fighting with her ex and how she freaked out and hid behind the shed.

              Her panic. The loud music. The people.

              “Fuck.” I turn around, hoping like hell she didn’t follow me inside. I know she’s pissed and even though my heart is slamming and I realize now I want nothing more than her with me, I hope she turned around.

              Yeah she goes to parties often, but she always panics when she’s emotional and I was a big enough asshole to make her pretty emotional.

              I see her stumble as she tries to make it through the crowd. Her hands are on her ears and her eyes wide.

              Adrenaline shoots through me, fueling me as I shove people out of my way to get to her. Her little body gets squeezed between people. Nothing matters, but her.

              “Get the fuck out of my way,” I say as I push people. No one can probably hear me, but it makes me feel like I’m doing something.

              I get to her and put my arms around her. She might freak out and hit me, but I probably deserve it. I just need to hold her and make everything okay.

              “It’s okay, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I say in her ear. Her arms wrap around me and I let her. Chey buries her head in my chest and I push through the crowd. My room is empty like I knew it would be. That’s the one party rule. No one allowed in my room.

              I lean against the door, fumbling to lock it and hold her at the same time. “I’m sorry. You’re okay, baby,” is all I can say over and over and over. It’s nothing. Words don’t mean shit because I obviously don’t treat her right.

              Music still beats through the walls. Laughter and screams from the losers all through the house. I wish I could silence them all for her. Take her wherever she needs to go to come back to me.

              “I’m going to lay you down, okay? Let’s lay down.”

              I know she hates to be babied and hates to be seen like this. I hate that she gets like this, but…I almost feel like someone special when I help her through it.

              With one of my hands I shove the comforter back. I lay her down, pull off her shoes, kick out of mine, and crawl in behind her. I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do or not, but I pull the blanket over our heads. Trying to give us our own world where I don’t get pissed at stupid things, she doesn’t have anything to panic over and our moms are okay.

              She starts to move and I’m suddenly fucking panicked she’s going to pull away from me, but she turns over and slips an arm around me. I pull her close. Wishing she could climb inside me or me her. Anything to keep her safe and be as close as we can.

              “I’m here. I have you. Just breathe.”

              I feel and hear her take deep breaths. Her body’s not shaking as bad as it was, but I tighten my hold on her, just to let her know I’m here and won’t let go.

              “I hate this,” she finally says, her voice so soft I can hardly hear her. “I hate being weak.”

              “You’re not weak. You’re so fucking strong, Cheyenne.” And not because of this. Because she just is. “You deal with shit so much better than I do.”

              “I have panic attacks.” The words make her shake even harder again.

              I know she needs to work through this and I know we need to talk, but right now, I just want her better. I want to ease the tension in her body and make it all go away for her.

              “Shh. Not now. It’ll be there to talk about later.”

              “I’m tired…so tired. I didn’t sleep last night.”

              Guilt rips through me. Was she worried about me? Christ, it makes me feel like more of a prick. Too proud to use my one call. “Sleep. I got you.”

              “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

              “Don’t be sorry. It’s not you. Shh. We’ll talk later.”

              I kiss her head and run my hand up and down her back. “I love you,” falls from her sleepy lips. They’re so quiet, so mumbled I’m not sure if I heard her right.

              Still, the words rock through me. Don’t make me want to run. They don’t even scare me. I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve them or even if I do, but I’m not going to walk away from them.

              “You, too.” I don’t know if she hears me because she doesn’t reply. I’m selfish enough I mean them, though. Which is crazy in itself. I fell for this girl and her for me.

              Somehow, my bed and the blanket works. We’re in our own world. The music or anyone outside the room doesn’t matter. Just us.

              I hold her while she sleeps. I don’t know how in the fuck we got here, but somehow this game is more real than anything else.

              And I want it.

              I fucking want it.

~CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT~

Cheyenne

              Lips ghost across my skin. It’s dark—I think. I know there’s a blanket over me. A hard body against me and that uniquely Colt scent.

              Colt.

The evening comes back to me. Our fight, my panic attack. Him taking care of me. Again.

              My muscles go rigid. I’m half mad at him for how he acted and half mad at myself for needing him. I shouldn’t need him or anyone…though is it okay to lean? I don’t know, especially since I don’t know how he feels.

              Little flashes blip through my mind. Did I tell him I love him? I think I did. Or maybe I just said the words in my head. My pulse starts going crazy.

              “Tiny Dancer…” Colt whispers in my ear. I smile at the name. His hand finds its way under my shirt as he brushes his thumb back and forth on my belly.

              Smile or not, I don’t reply, hoping he’ll think I’m still asleep. Maybe I didn’t say them.  We need to talk. I know it, but there’s so much going on in my head—in our lives, that I don’t even know where to start. All I know is I have questions for him, but I’m not sure I’m ready to answer any.

              “Is this what guys talk about when their girl pretends to sleep because she’s not in the mood for sex? I promise, you’ll enjoy yourself.”

              This makes me chuckle, which I realize was his point. Who is this man and how do I know him so well? When did it happen and how can someone be so much more than you ever thought they could be?

              We’re both quiet for a minute. I hear the wheels turning in his head, matching the beat to the ones in mine. We have his mom to discuss, and jail, freak outs, and my possible half-asleep confession. Why the hell can’t it be easy?

              “Sounds like the party died down,” I say, thinking it’s the safest thing to talk about. There’s no music pounding through the walls anymore.

              “I’m an asshole,” is Colt’s reply. And he is…but he isn’t at the same time. His hand is still under my shirt, his lips press against my neck. I think it’s easier this way—our darkness like he said. Easier to hide and easier for us to come clean in these shadows too.

              “You are…but I understand. You were just protecting your mom.”

              “No.” Colt rolls to his back. I follow, lying on my side with my arm around him. We’re fully dressed, except for our shoes. “I was being an asshole to her. I was protecting myself. It shouldn’t have been a big deal to get her a fucking tattoo.”

              “Why—”

              “—Because it’s final.” His hand tightens, nails biting into my skin. I can’t help but wonder if that means I do something for him too. If somehow I help him the way he helps me.

              “I’m sorry.” Words are so ridiculous sometimes. They don’t really mean anything, but they’re all I have. “You have to know she did it because she loves you though. And no matter what, she knows how much you love her.”

              More silence. His grip has loosened slightly, his thumb moving again. With each swipe I feel closer to him, which I know makes no sense, but it’s true.

              “I need to make it up to her… My head was just all fucked up. We had this crazy talk and I was all over the place. Then I got pulled over. Got searched. Went to jail. So you were taking care of her while I was locked up. I felt like shit and I took it out on you.”

              His words knock me for a loop. Yes, Colt is always honest. He doesn’t hold back, but usually that’s when he’s being a jerk, not opening up. I never expected to hear these words from him. Don’t know what to think about them. All I do know is they make my heart expand. They’re the blood pumping life into that vital organ because somehow I know it’s because it’s me. He feels comfortable baring himself to me.

              “You’re going through a lot.”

              “Which is a bullshit excuse. I don’t like excuses. What did I tell you that first night? You said your mom left you and I said ‘so.’ It is what it is and I should know that.” His voice sounds so resolved. It’s tense, but also like he’s made his decision and now he knows there’s nothing to do, but go with it.

              I’m jealous of him for that. I know how I feel about him, but stressing trying to figure out if I said it out loud or if he heard me. I can’t sleep because of the nightmares. I know Mom’s gone, but I can’t deal with it.

              “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re stronger than you think.”

              “So are you, Tiny Dancer.” Colt swipes his hand and pushes the blanket from off us. “It’s fucking hot under there.”

              I think I got off easy with the change of subject, but just as quickly as the blanket was gone, he’s pulling me over so I’m lying on him. “What happened to you?” He’s looking up at me, and me down at Colt. I only see faint shadows of him from the light shining through his window.

              Colt pushes a piece of hair behind my ear. It’s such a boyfriend thing to do. Not an I’m-sleeping-with-you-for-fun thing. It both scares and excites me. Maybe he feels the same…

              Fear wins out. “This guy got all mad at me and pissed me off.”

              “Be real with me.”

              He’s almost more serious than I’ve ever seen him. It takes my breath away.

              “I thought this was a game,” I remind him.

              “Not anymore and you know it. Everything else in my life is all fucked up. This is the only thing that’s real.”

              I gasp. It’s what I want to hear. What I need to hear. What I feel in each of my scarred heartbeats.

              “I’m tired of running.” Colt fingers my hair. “I want one thing that’s not broken…that’s not fucked up or dying. Mom’s life has always been broken. She had a drug addicted mom and lived in the system. My old man was a prick and a druggie. This is the only thing that’s real. Don’t run from me, Tiny Dancer.”

              Each of his words pump up my heart—so big and full I think it might explode. Or maybe it’s just the right pressure.

              “I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him. I think the corners of his mouth tilt up in the dimpled-sexy smile. “I’m more real with you than I’ve ever been with anyone in my life.”

              And it’s true. How long was I with Gregory and he didn’t know about the panic? Aunt Lily knew, but I always played it off as best I could. Even with the doctors.

              Only Colt’s seen me at my worst and he’s still here. Wanting more of the darkness from my past. Looking at his shadowed outline below me, I realize I want to give it to him. That I might be willing to admit, for the first time, I need someone to help me into the light.

              I lay my head on his chest. Feel his heart beat against my cheek. I wish we were as physically bare as we are emotionally.

              One of Colt’s hands slides under my shirt, teasing the sensitive skin at the small of my back, while the other runs through my hair. I’m struck again at how close we are. I wonder if he realizes how much he’s giving me right now.

              “My mom was the youngest…spoiled and rebellious. She got into a lot of trouble and my grandparents always let her slide. She kept it up and according to my aunt, ran away with a boyfriend when she was eighteen. She hadn’t finished high school yet. Of course she got pregnant with me and it didn’t last. She went back home, but the urge to party was too much so she left again—taking me with her.

              “I don’t really remember my grandparents. When they died in a car accident, I guess she got worse. Aunt Lily says they didn’t know where we were half the time and then Mom would show up with me. She’d leave me with them for a few days, come back and take me away again.”

              I hate the way the story sounds. The way it paints her. I’m not sure if that’s good or not. “She was funny though. She used to make me laugh all the time.”

              Colt’s so silent, if it weren’t for his hands forever moving I would think he fell asleep. I’m thankful for the quiet. I don’t know if I would keep going if he interrupted me.

              “Anyway, long story short. She still liked to party and she’d bring me with her. At one of the parties, she took off—probably with a guy or something. She told me to stay in the room.”

              I burrow close to him, hoping his heart against my cheek will pump strength into me.

              “It was dark… so dark and this man and woman came in. They were laughing and kissing. The music was loud in the house. I tried to hide, but they turned the light on and saw me. They laughed and I ran.”

              I stiffen, the familiar thud of panic pulsating through me.

              “I got you.” Colt squeezes me. I’ve never felt as close to another human being as I do in this moment.

              “It was crowed…so crowded and loud. I couldn’t hear anything over the music. All I wanted was my mom. I pushed through the people. They spilled beer on me and tripped over me, but I couldn’t find her. She was lost.”

              I take a couple deep breaths.

              “I stumbled into the backyard and finally, finally I could hear. The music was in the background, but I still couldn’t find her. I started to cry. That’s when the guy found me…he was big, with a big scruffy beard, I’ll never forget it.”

              Colt cursed. I’ve never heard his voice so tight. “Did he hurt you?” I feel him swallow hard, his stomach against my chest.

              A few tears spring free. “Almost.” I whisper.

              I’ll help you find your mama.

              “He told me he’d help me find her. At first he grabbed me and I was scared, but then he said he knew where she was and I went with him. I didn’t know. I swear to God, I didn’t know, Colt.”

              I’m crying harder now. The tears flow freely, wetting his shirt. Colt’s hands tighten around me. He shushes me and kisses the top of my head.

              “You don’t have to say anymore, baby. Christ, I’m sorry. So fucking sorry, I asked.”

              I shake my head because now I need to get it out. I need to say it for the first time in my life.

              “We were in an old, rundown neighborhood. The house next door was empty and he brought me to it. I remember my heart pounding so hard. I don’t think it ever beat that hard, but all I wanted was my mom. I wanted to find her and go home where we could laugh and be normal.

              “As soon as the door closed behind me he shoved me into a wall. I hit my head and fell. I remember freezing. I knew I should get up and do something. Run, but I couldn’t make myself do it.

              “He bent down.”

              Please. Please, stop.

              “His beard scratched my face. His breath made me want to puke.”

Colt’s so still I don’t know if he’s even still breathing. He’s holding me so tight, it hurts, but I need it too.

“How old were you?”

“Seven.”

He curses again.

“His hands were at my pants, Colt. They were unbuttoned and unzipped. I tried to kick him and he hit me. He went for my pants again.”

God this is hard. So, so hard.  “That’s how close I was, to…But someone came in. It sidetracked him. I finally made myself run. I ran all the way home in the middle of the night and she was there. She’d forgotten about me and left me. How could she forget me?”

              Colt sits up, holding me in his lap. My arms go around his neck and I cry. I cry for that little girl who learned that night never to count on anyone. For the one who still didn’t want my mom to leave me when she brought me to Aunt Lily’s. The one who felt abandoned. Who never let Lily in. Or Gregory. Who made the panic seem like less to the doctors because I thought if I somehow made myself perfect, it would mean the people I loved wouldn’t leave me.

              Who asked Colt to be my fake boyfriend just to prove to Gregory I didn’t need him.

              I cry for the person I am now. Who doesn’t know if I should hate my mom for leaving me. If she really did abandon me or if I wanted her to have or not.

              “You don’t have to do it on your own. Let me take some of the weight, baby.”

              But he has so much already. “You have your own problems.”

              “We’ll share each other’s.”

              My hand tightens in his hair and I keep crying. Colt doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t rush me. Just holds me like he’s done so many times before.

              Finally after what feels like an eternity, my tears stop.

              It must be really early morning because the sun is beginning to rise, little flecks of light started to break through the blinds on his window.

              I look at Colt. His eyes look red. From lack of sleep or maybe from something else. I don’t know. His hand cups my cheek. “You okay?” he finally asks. We’re close. So close as I sit on this lap.

              “Yeah…thank you.”

              “I’m fucking good at this boyfriend shit. Who would have thought?” Boyfriend. I like the sound of that. I give him a small smile because it’s all I can muster. I appreciate the attempt though.

              I suddenly need him more than my next breath. To feel him in a way I’ve never felt anyone else. Yes, we’ve done this before. I’ve done it before. But this will be different.

              “Please…” I try to climb closer to him. Inside him. “I need you.”

              “Chey…”

              “No. Don’t do that. It’s okay. Nothing’s changed.”

              We both know that’s a lie. Everything’s changed, but not in the way he’s thinking.

              “I love you,” I say again, this time completely awake and in control of my words.

              He presses his lips gently to mine. “You too…”

              I gasp a little, shocked that he said it. No he didn’t use the word love, but it’s close enough.

              “I told you earlier too.” He seems to read my mind.

              “I didn’t hear you.”

              When he stands up, I whimper thinking he’s going to walk away. Colt crooks his finger at me. “Come here, Tiny Dancer.”

              My heart raps frantically against my chest. Heat floods my body. I look at him.

              And stand.