Page 99 of When Sparks Fly

Movement catches my eye in the fire and that’s when several things become clear at once.

One. The crunching wasn’t coming from Sutton’s end of the line, but rather my gravel driveway.

Two. It was, in fact, a motorcycle previously.

Three. Colt is at my house.

Colt’s eyes hold pure malice. Looking solid black in the night, he moves toward me, quick and confident. This isn’t like Halloween. He isn’t toying with me this time.

I jump up from my seat, inadvertently flinging my mug into the side of the fire pit and my chair in the distance behind me. My fingers hurt from the grip I place on the phone. “Sutton.”

“Maci?” Thankfully, his use of my given name indicates that he understands we’re no longer playing.

“Colt is here.” I swallow hard.

“What the fuck? What does he—never mind.” The truck revving echoes through the line. “I’m on my way—”

“There’s no time for that.” Colt is almost to the firepit and certainly within hearing range. “Sutton, I’m not letting him take me. No matter what.” I hope he knows my intentions. “I love you.”

I disconnect the call and stand.

“No one’s here to help you, princess.” Colt’s tone is acidic. He stops moving a few feet on the side of the fire. The flames lick up the air between us.

I toss my phone onto my blanket at my feet. “I didn’t need help last time. What makes you think I’ll need help tonight?”

“You stupid bitch,” he spits. “You have no idea what you’re up against.”

Colt flips open a knife in one hand. The handle has a black and white depiction of the American flag. Markings cover the blade, but from my position it’s unclear what they are. “I should’ve killed you when I first had the chance.” His voice is low, loosely masked by the crackling of the logs between us.

“You forgot the part when I broke your nose.”

“Not Halloween.” His expression has gone smug and he shakes his head the tiniest bit. “Ten years ago.”

The blood in my veins turns to ice. My breathing stops and my lunch, however digested it may be, is threatening to come up.There’s no way.

“What did you say?” As they pass my lips, the words are barely a whisper. He may not even hear them.

“Not so smug now, are you, princess?” The tip of his knife meets his thigh and he twists the handle, spinning the tip.

Even though I told Sutton I would do whatever it takes, the idea of actually shooting Colt was a smoke screen. Some part of me still hoped that he’d realize he’s out of his element and tuck tail and leave again. Maybe in cuffs, but not in a body bag.

However, the way he’s spinning the knife with a large serrated blade, tells me the only way out at this point is with one or both of us being injured.

“Colt, I have no idea what you hoped to achieve ten years ago and I don’t know what you want now. But I need you to know I’m armed and I will shoot you if I have to.”

His laugh is dark. Wide eyes and skin taut around his mouth, his expression is somewhat manic. “What I hoped to achieve.” His repetition of my words is mocking. “You were being a spoiled brat. Someone needed to show you that you don’t get everything you want. Instead, you stole my dad away.” The last part is the loudest, but it makes the least amount of sense.

“Stole your dad?”What the hell is he talking about?My eyes trace over the blades of grass surrounding my blanket and phone as I try to make sense of what he’s saying. “James?”

I’m fairly confident that’s not who he means, but nothing else is registering.

His eyes widen before a slimy grin takes over his face. “James is your dad?” He huffs a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. I should’ve seen that coming.”

Now I’m even more confused. “If you’re not talking about James, then who are you talking about?”

Taking a step to one side of the fire pit, something I suspect he’s trying to camouflage, he inches closer to me. His gaze is lowered. Contrary to what he may believe, I’m not falling for his machinations. Countering, I lean my weight onto the opposite foot. Two can play this game.

“My dad. Alan.”

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