Letting Go (Vista Falls #3) (9 page)

“Yeah, well, I waver about that every other minute.”

“You?” Wide-eyed, she feigned surprised. “The guy who’s always been so sure of himself, who knows exactly what he wants and how to get it?”

“I don’t know how to get this.” His voice was a raspy whisper, his lips floating just above hers. “I keep telling myself that I have no business wanting you, that I’m being a selfish bastard for not leaving you alone.”

“What if I don’t want you to leave me alone?” Gabby knew that she was sinking deeper into quicksand when the thought of never seeing Colt again left her with a familiar ache in her chest.

“What are we doing?” he asked, sounding frustrated as he dropped his head.

“We’re”—
falling in love all over again
—“trying to figure things out.”

“I’m not all that hard to figure out. I already told you all you need to know about me.”

“I know what you told me.” She smoothed her skirt, needing something to hold on to so she wouldn’t reach for him. “But I’m not sure if I believe you.”

“You have to believe me, sweetheart.” The pain was evident in his eyes when he said, “For your own good.”

“Isn’t it possible that you have so much rage inside you because you’ve never dealt with it?”

“It’s not that I haven’t tried.”

“Have you? Really?” Challenging him seemed to be the only way she could get through to him, but if his temper had become as volatile as he claimed, she knew she was taking a risk. “When was the last time you visited the house you grew up in… or saw your mother?”

His jaw clenched as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, making it obvious he had no intention of touching her now. “It’s been a while.”

“You’re still angry with her. You think that she should have done a better job of protecting her children.”

“No, I’m over that.”

“You’re lying.” Despite his warnings, she’d never really been afraid of Colt. He might scream or throw things or tear out of her driveway in a fit of anger, but he’d never hurt her. Physically.

“Think what you want. I don’t have—”

“Do you want to change?” She’d been asking herself for the past year whether Colt was content to be a prisoner to his rage, but she’d been afraid to ask.

“Of course I do.”

“Then you have to find the courage. Man up.” Questioning Colt’s masculinity was one surefire way to throw down the gauntlet. “Tell your parents all the things you should have told them years ago. Confront them both. Let it all out.”

He released a shuddering breath. “If I come face-to-face with my father again, I’m afraid of what I might do to him.” He shook his head. “How messed up am I? I hate his guts, yet I’m paying for his care and making sure he has the best of everything.”

“You’re doing that because you’re a good man,” Gabby said, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck as she coaxed him to look her in the eye. “You don’t want him to be a burden to the state, so you stepped up and took responsibility. I admire that. He may not deserve you, Colt, but he’s damn lucky to have you.”

“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know that going to see him would solve anything. It might make things worse.”

“Can they get any worse? You’re afraid to live your life, afraid to take chances, afraid to love. How much worse could it get?”

“What I’m afraid of is hurting you.”

“You are hurting me.” She slid her hand from around his neck and let it slide down his chest. “Being here with you, knowing that I can never really be with you the way I want to because of all of your baggage… that’s hurting me.”

“Does that mean if I dealt with all this shit, you’d be willing to give me another chance? I thought you didn’t trust me to stick around?”

“Trust doesn’t happen overnight,” she said, knowing she needed more time to figure out whether Colt would really make Vista Falls his permanent home. “It happens one day at a time.”

“Does that mean you could forgive? And maybe forget?”

“I’ll never forget.” She patted his chest. “The good and the bad is a part of us. I remember it all, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.” His obvious disappointment made her add, “All relationships are like that, you know. A combination of good and bad. If someone has been with their partner a long time and they tell you they have no bad memories, they’re either lying or they suffer from dementia.”

He smiled. “So you’re saying even though I’ve given you plenty of bad memories—”

“You’ve given me plenty of good too. Some of the best of my life, in fact.”

“Thanks for saying that.” He brushed his lips across hers. “I really needed to hear that tonight.”

The following morning, Colt was standing on the front lawn, looking up at the House of Horrors, a.k.a. his childhood home. It looked different than he remembered. The dingy old brown façade was a new gray, and the weathered porch and steps had a fresh coat of white paint. There were even some red flowers poking out of planter boxes under the windows. It was nice to see that his mother had been putting the monthly checks he sent her to good use.

He should have called first, but he wasn’t sure he’d actually have the nerve to ring the doorbell, and he didn’t want her to be expecting him in case he decided to bail at the last second. He stared at the new red door, thinking it was almost the same shade as Gabby’s. If it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t be here at all. Last night, she’d given him something he hadn’t had in a long time—hope. So he was here for her. Willing to “man up,” as she put it, if it meant he could get a shot at a real future with her.

He was about to knock on the door when it opened.

“Oh my God,” his mother said, stepping back.

He looked at the plastic watering can in her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Mom.”

“You didn’t!” She set the can down before opening her arms to him. “It’s so good to see you, honey. This is a wonderful surprise.”

Honey?
He couldn’t remember his mother ever using a term of endearment when she addressed her children. He gave her a quick hug as he cleared his throat then took a step back. “Sorry to just drop by like this. I know I should have called first, but—”

“Nonsense,” she said, grabbing his hand. “You’re welcome here any time. Now get in here and tell me what you’ve been up to.”

As soon as Colt stepped inside, he had a flashback of soiled plaid furniture, walls with holes the size of fists, and empty beer cans cluttering every surface. Except the house didn’t look anything like that now.

The walls were painted a soft gray, and the furniture was light blue with colorful throw cushions. There was a flat screen TV in the corner and framed family photos on the mantel. For the first time ever, it looked like a real family home.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, tears filling her blue eyes. “It looks different, huh? I decided when your dad moved out that it was time for some changes. I set aside a bit of that money you were generous enough to send me every month and made the improvements gradually. I did most of the work myself to save.”

“You did this?” He was shocked. When he was growing up, his mother had barely had the energy to throw a frozen dinner in the oven or grab a garbage bag to collect all the empty beer cans.

“I sure did.” A blush crept up her neck, fanning up to her silver hairline. “It’s kind of been a hobby of mine for a little while now. DIY, they call it.” She smiled. “Bet you didn’t think your old Ma had it in her to do anything worthwhile, did you?”

“This place looks great.” Realizing he wouldn’t have believed his mother had any special skills if he hadn’t seen them with his own eyes hurt Colt. He looked at the wood banister, thinking of all the times he’d run up those stairs to escape his old man’s wrath. Trying to banish the bad memories, he cleared his throat. “Uh, the banister and stairs were dark wood before, weren’t they?” Now they were white, and there was a blue green glass mosaic on the risers.

“Everything in this house was so dark and depressing,” she said with a sigh. “I wanted to brighten it up, make it more cheerful and welcoming if I could.” She reached for his hand, seeming hesitant. “I kept hoping you or your brother and sister might want to come home for a visit sometime. If you did, I wanted this to be a place you’d be proud of, one that wouldn’t remind you of what you came up from.”

He discreetly withdrew his hand, shoving both in his pockets. He wasn’t ready to pretend a coat of paint could erase all those memories. “It looks like you keep in touch with Kaley and Joe,” he said, gesturing to the framed pictures on the mantel.

“Oh, they email me pictures now and again,” she said, stepping back to admire her little collage in mosaic frames. “I wish you did. The only pictures I have of you are ones I pulled off of the Internet.”

Upon closer inspection, he realized she’d framed his headshot from their company website and one of him and Wes providing a big check at a fundraiser on behalf of Backwoods. “I guess I didn’t think you’d want them.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Colt, why would you think that? You’re my firstborn—”

“Let’s be real for a minute.” He’d come to lay it out there, not to hide behind good manners. “You never cared about me when I was growing up. Why should I believe you care now?”

She swallowed, but her gaze never wavered from his. “Fair enough. But will you at least give me a chance to tell you my side of the story?”

“You don’t have to,” he said, feeling as though his visit was about to spiral out of control as all of his repressed anger came back to the surface. “I was there, remember? I lived it!”

“Come in here,” she said, gesturing toward the living room. “Please, just sit down with me for a minute. Listen to what I have to say. If you don’t believe me or you don’t want to believe me, you can leave and I’ll understand, I promise.”

Since he’d come with questions, he decided to let her say her piece, and he hoped he’d leave with a better understanding of the woman who’d allowed her children to live with a monster instead of protecting them the way she should have. He sat in a pale blue armchair that looked a little feminine, but at least he could be sure his father had never sat in it. “Fine, but I don’t have a lot of time. I have to get to the office.”

“Would you like something to drink or—”

“No, what I want is some answers. Why?” He let the question hang in the air, knowing she could draw her own conclusions.
Why did you stay? Why did you let him hurt us? Why didn’t you protect us or try to defend us? Why didn’t you love us?

“I was so young when I got pregnant with you,” she said, wringing her hands. “Barely eighteen.”

He’d heard this story before. “I get that it couldn’t have been easy for you, but lots of young mothers—”

“Find a way to be good parents.” She shook her head. “I know.”

“Why did you marry him?” Colt had always wondered about that. He’d seen pictures of his mother long before living with his father had started to take its toll. She had been beautiful.

“I didn’t think I had a choice. My parents kicked me out when they found out I was pregnant. They hated your father—”

“I wonder why.” That explained why he’d never had a relationship with his maternal grandparents.

“They tried to tell me he was bad for me, but I was too stubborn to listen. I loved him.”

Colt couldn’t understand how anyone could love a man like his father. It seemed inconceivable. The last time he could remember loving his father or wanting the old man’s love in return, he’d been about four, ready to start school for the first time. In a rare show of emotion, his dad had sat him down and tried to ease his fears about his future classmates. Colt was pretty sure that was the only paternal act his father had ever performed in thirty-plus years of quasi-parenting.

“But why did you stay? When you realized what he was like—”

“It was too late.” Her hand trembled as she balled a tissue in her hand instead of using it. “I couldn’t go back to my parents. I’d alienated my friends because of him. I had no degree, no skills. I’d never had a job. He didn’t want me to work. I think he feared if I had any independence or a life outside of this house, I’d find a way to leave him. He thought I’d develop friendships with people who’d convince me to leave him or maybe even find another man… one who would treat me better.”

Colt suspected anyone would have treated her better than the old man had, but he saw no reason to point that out. She already knew. “Speaking of this house, why the hell would you stay here?” The house was on a good chunk of land, which meant she could have sold it and bought something newer and smaller in town. Something that would have been perfect for her without all the memories.

“I like it here.” She smiled at his shocked expression. “After your father moved out, I got to know some of my neighbors. They’ve become my friends. And I have vegetable gardens in the back. I love that. I sit out back at night with…”

Colt watched his mother’s face light up as a white cat slithered into the room. She’d always loved animals, but his father had been dead set against bringing any mangy beasts into
his
house.

“Who’s this?” he asked, bending to scratch beneath the cat’s chin when she brushed up against his leg.

“This is Brandy. She’s been with me ever since your father left.”

Colt knew the old man hadn’t gone willingly. He’d gone in the ambulance kicking and screaming, according to Colt’s friend, the sheriff. From the hospital, they’d transferred him to the nursing home when his mother told the doctors she could no longer care for him at home.

“It’s nice that you have some company.”

“I’m glad he’s gone,” she said, watching Colt pet the cat. “It may sound terrible, but I’m glad he’s locked away where he can’t hurt anyone else.”

Colt didn’t think it sounded terrible. He felt the same way. At least he and his mother had that in common. “Do you see him anymore?”

She shrugged. “I visit him when he’s having a good day, but he doesn’t want me there. I honestly don’t know why I keep punishing myself. I guess it’s that sense of duty. I was raised to believe that you marry once, for better or worse.”