Page 120 of Shattered Veil

“Shit happens,” Luke said under his breath. “Right.”

“What…what kind of shit?”

Claire had spoken it, and when I followed Luke’s shocked glance to her, I found that she was looking to Colton with a morbid curiosity. Her blue eyes showed a quiet nervousness unlike what I had seen in them previously—one that was expectant—and when Colton met her gaze, he sighed loudly.

It appeared entirely genuine when he replied, “I don’t exactly want to get into that right now.”

She immediately countered, “Why?”

His head bobbed backward in surprise at her quick insistence. “Because there are some things going on that are a bit more pressing than me chatting about what I’ve done in the last year?”

I saw the muscles work in her jaw. “Colton.”

He whined, “Why does this have to be a thing?”

It was then that I was tempted to interject. To needlessly remind the room that we have no idea where James is, what we can tell authorities, and where we go from here. That we needed to focus. However, Claire had already begun to speak along a similar line of thought…and her point was astute.

“Because someone that’s a part of our family is missing!” she hissed, and his mouth snapped shut. My exposed heart painfully lurched, the air in the room turned tense with her verbal acknowledgment of it, and I was fairly certain that I saw Claire’s nostrils flare as she pressed on, “I want to trust you, Colt. We all need to trust you. Do you have any idea how fucking backwards that feels? The fact that I want and need to trust you in this situation? It’s…it’s asinine.” She laughed bitterly to herself. “That’s exactly what it is—it’s fucking asinine. Did you know that I still walk with a goddamn limp?”

I hadn’t fully noticed that. Sure, over dinners that I had attended, Zoey would occasionally mutter to Claire, ‘How’s the leg?’ It was a private question—I always knew it was—and that was why I had never butted in or asked about it further. I had only witnessed Claire’s ever-consistent shrug of a shoulder and Zoey’s quick nod in response. And furthermore, if Luke were sat next to her and they were primed to move, he would always be ready at a moment’s notice to spring up and assist her as she stood. With his hand extended and a gracious look in her eyes, he would smile as he pulled her to her feet.

It wasn’t until now that the reason for instances like those clicked in my mind, and I realized that it was abundantly true. Claire always favored her right side over her left.

Colton miserably groaned, “From Travis?”

“Yes, from fucking Travis!” Claire yelled.

I didn’t know who Travis was—naturally, I didn’t, as I assumed this conversation was regarding Claire’s history, in which I only knew the bare minimum. I did, however, recall that upon Colton’s arrival in Salem, Luke had mentioned that Claire had been stabbed in the past. I now figured that it was in her left leg and that this Travis had done the damage. I didn’t ask, of course…and I didn’t question the quick deviation of topic, for I knew she was rapidly circling back.

Colton had closed his eyes while Claire’s voice rose in her angry reply, as if he anticipated it—absorbing the impact rather than deflecting it—and when he opened them, he appeared to be waiting for her to continue.

“My point,” Claire lowered her decibel, but her scathing tone remained, “is that I’ve been telling everyone that you wouldn’t blindly fuck us all over for no reason, and the more I say it, the more it feels like I’m trying to convince myself of that.”

“Blindly fuck you over?” he returned with a narrowed glare. “First off, I’ve never done anything blind in my entire life, and I,” Colton whispered, “busted into the place next door for you guys—”

“Because you needed something in return,” Luke grumbled.

“The fuck is going to make this better for you?” Colton snapped at them both. “You want me to get on my fucking knees? Beg? Plead for forgiveness? Hell, I was ready to do that a year ago when I tried to show up after everything went down with Travis.” He threw his head back, speaking to the ceiling, “Swear to God, I would have dropped to the floor and scraped. My. Shit. Up. Apologizing for that shitshow, but I don’t think you want it.”

“I don’t want it,” Claire retorted. “I don’t need it! I just need to know why!”

“Why?”

“Yes, Colt,” she reiterated. “Why? Why are you doing this? Why are you helping? Why are you so hellbent over this?”

It seemed that the weight of the conversation had finally cracked something within him because at the moment of her repeated why, his shoulders straightened, and the light that was always present in his gaze flared. Not with what seemed to be his usual mocking sarcasm, but with hurt—with anger that flooded his face as if a constantly worn mask had been rapidly dropped.

Colton screamed back, “Because I’ve BEEN HERE BEFORE!” We all flinched at the volume of it. His jaw flexed, and he collected himself for exactly one inhale. Upon his exhale, he said, “You need to know details? Fine. I met a girl.”

He spoke it quickly, but despite that, it was anything but lacking emotion. On the contrary, the words seemed as though they were forced from him. As if demanding that they leave his mouth coated his tongue in acid, and caused him physical harm.

Luke had tilted his head even further to the side in curiosity.

Even Zoey looked up from the laptop to evaluate his expression, which had turned downright gaunt.

“Oh?” Claire returned with raised eyebrows.

Colton went on, “She was wrapped up deep with the wrong people, tryin’ to get out.”

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