For You (The 'Burg #1)(92)

“Colt, stay with me,” I begged, as he shrugged on the holster and reached for his jacket, “let’s talk this through.”

“Outta my way Feb.”

I was jockeying in front of him, hands up, eyes glued to him, trying to gauge which way he’d go to dodge me as he went toward the door.

He didn’t try to dodge me, he came straight at me, my hands hit his chest and he pushed me back as he kept moving.

“Colt, where you goin’?” I asked.

“Craig Lansdon.”

“No! Colt, no.”

My back hit the door, he reached around me, put his hand to the lock and I heard it click. “Call your Dad.”

“Colt, don’t.”

Colt shoved me out of the way. I came right back, sliding between him and the partially opened door. I pushed against it with my back, closing it again before I wrapped both arms around him, holding tight.

“Stay with me,” I pleaded.

“Got a kid. A boy.”

I shook my head, fast and rough, not able to think about that just yet. “Stay with me, babe.”

“He had a hand in it. He helped take you from me, do that to Amy, do that to me, he’s gonna answer for it.”

“Colt, calm down first. Let me call Dad.”

“Get away, baby, before I set you away.”

I squeezed him tight, hard as I could, got up on my toes so my face was close to his, and begged, “Don’t do this.”

He pulled back fast, out of my arms. Then he leaned down and put a shoulder to my belly. I was up over his shoulder and Colt was across the room in a flash. He dipped his shoulder, dropped me on the couch and before I got back up and was halfway across the room he was out the door.

I followed him.

“Colt, stop!” I shouted, running across the yard.

He was in his truck and slamming the door. I hit it with both hands up, still on the run then tried the handle. It was locked.

Colt started the truck, it roared to life, his foot heavy on the gas.

At the sound I jumped away from the truck. When he backed out of the drive, I turned tail and ran to the house, locked the door behind me and ran to my phone on the kitchen counter.

I called Morrie. It took me three goes to scroll down then up when I passed his name in my phonebook then down again, my hands were shaking so hard.

I put the cell to my ear.

“Whas’ up?” Morrie asked, I’d woken him.

“Morrie, you gotta get to Craig Lansdon. I don’t know where he is, but you gotta get to him. Call Sully. Colt’s gonna hurt him.”

“What?”

“Craig and Denny Lowe slipped him a mickey. I… it was… way back, at Sherry and Sheila’s party. He… something happened. They slipped one to Amy Harris too. They had sex.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter what!” I shouted. “Denny or Craig or both of them drugged him and Amy. I caught them in the act, I thought it was something else but they were out of it.”

“Holy shit.”

“Morrie!” I screeched, out of my mind.

“I’ll call Sully, Sis, we’ll find him. Just calm down.”

“Stop him, Morrie,” I begged.

“It’ll be okay, Baby Sister. Promise.”

Then he hung up.

Then I called Dad.

Then I heard Wilson meow at me. I looked down at my cat who was looking up at me, uncertain of the state of affairs.

I scooped him up, walked to the couch, sat on it and held him to me, staring at the wall, seeing nothing, thinking of Colt saying he saw them cut Amy Harris down. I was also thinking of Denny, ruining my life, ruining Colt’s, taking everything from me, from both of us. He’d led me to Pete. He’d ripped me off the golden course of my life and shoved me down a dark path where I didn’t want to be. I’d got lost, I’d wandered. It took me over two decades to find my way home.

And Amy? She had a kid, Colt’s kid. A little boy. If Colt didn’t remember, did she? Did she wonder why she was pregnant? Wonder if she’d been raped?

And Colt, all these years, he never knew, never knew what the f**k I was talking about. Because he didn’t. And now he found this out and that, somewhere out there, he had a kid.

“Oh my God,” I whispered and Wilson curled closer, “oh my God.”

* * * * *

I sat there on the couch cuddling Wilson and staring at the wall for awhile.

Dad walked in and I knew it was him but I didn’t look at him.

Mom walked in and I looked at her.

Then the tears started falling.

Wilson was gone and I was in her arms, the words pouring out of me through my hiccoughing breaths, coating my tongue with acid. Mom held me, tighter, tighter, swaying gently, cooing once in awhile, whispering “honey” but for once Mom didn’t help me. The tears didn’t stop coming, or the hiccups, or the words.

“Honey, you need to calm down,” she whispered, but I didn’t, I couldn’t.

I’d lost the beautiful life I’d been meant to lead. It had been torn from me but it was my fault that that rip was never mended and I knew it. Stupid Feb, keeping it all in, holding grudges.

Worse, Colt was out there, madder than hell and I knew what he could be like when he got that mad. Everyone did. If he got to Craig before Morrie or Sully, the rest of Colt’s life could be as bleak as his father’s.