Fueled(book two)(72)

I suck in a breath of air and exhale it shakily. “Do you know what happened to her? Where she is? What became of her?” My fingers tremble as I bring a hand to run through my hair. I don’t want him to worry or think that I want to find her and…I don’t know what with her. Reconcile? Fuck no. Never.

But it scares the f*ck out of me that the idea of her—just the thought of her—can get me this worked up. Can f*ck with my head more than the dreams. “Never mind, I—”

“Colton…It’s okay.” Reassurance fills his voice.

“I just don’t want you to think—”

“I don’t think anything,” he soothes in a way only a father can to a son. “Take a breath, Colt. It’s okay. I’ve waited a long time for you to ask—”

“You’re not mad?” The one fear I have bubbles out of my mouth.

“No. Never.” He sighs, resigned to the fact that a small part of me will always worry regardless of the passage of time.

I feel like a hundred pound weight has been lifted from my chest. Freed me from the fear of asking. “Really?”

“It’s natural to wonder,” he assures. “Normal to want to learn about your past and—”

“I know all I need to know of my past…” The words come out in a whisper before I can stop them. Silence hangs through the line. “I just…f*cking Rylee…” I mutter in exasperation.

“You’re having dreams again, aren’t you?”

I struggle to answer. I want to tell him because I feel obligated to be honest after everything he’s done for me, and at the same time feel the need to lie so that he doesn’t worry about the memories that debilitated me as a child. So he doesn’t remember how detrimental they were. So he doesn’t find out everything that had happened. “I saw it in your eyes when I got back from Indonesia. Are you okay? Do you need—”

“I’m fine, Dad. It’s just that Rylee had asked if I knew what had happened to her. That maybe if I knew I might get some closure. Be able to shut some old doors…”

He’s silent on the connection for a moment. “I kept tabs on her for a while. I wanted to make sure when she got out of jail that she didn’t come back to find you or make trouble for you when you were just starting to do so well. I stopped about ten years ago,” he admits, “but I’ll call the PI that I used, he’ll know her habits better than anyone—and we’ll see what he can find. If that’s what you want…”

“Yeah. Thanks. I just…”

“No need to explain, Colton. You do what you need to fill in that piece you’ve always felt is missing. Your Mom and I knew this day was coming, and we want you to do whatever you have to do to find peace. We’re okay with it.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes, fighting the burn that threatens within. “Thanks, Dad.” There’s nothing else I can say to the man who gave me life after being dead for the first eight years of my existence.

“Sure, son. I’ll call you when I have any news. Love you.”

“Thanks, Dad. Me too.”

I’m just about to hang up when he speaks again. “Colton?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you.” His voice wavers with emotion, which in turn makes me swallow the lump in my throat.

“Thanks.”

I hang up the phone, toss it on the table, and lean my head back against the wall. The loud breath I exhale into the silence does nothing to ease the overwhelming emotions swimming through me. I sit there for a bit, knowing I need to apologize to Beckett and wanting Rylee in the worst way. Needing something to clear my head.