Page 14 of The History Between Us

Just from that one conversation, I can tell he’s incredibly hard on himself, but he has no reason to be. He’s talented, he’s committed, he’s got what it takes to bring his career even further than his dad did. I meant what I said to him when I told him this injury doesn’t have to define him. It’s not nearly as severe as Max’s was, and I think deep down, he probably knows that, but I’m sure it’s easier to give in to the doubt when you’re already discouraged.

His Instagram is filled with pictures and videos from the circuit or at the arena when he’s training. He has a large social media presence, it looks like. Even now, when he’s home and unable to compete, there’s at least a dozen stories posted just today. I watch them all, wondering why the hell I’m doing this. Why do I care? Why am I now so curious and intrigued byhim? I’ve known Colt his entire life, and never once did I look at him in any sort of inappropriate way untilthatnight.

That night changed everything for me, and I’ve never quite forgiven myself for it. I was weak and lonely, and he was there and willing, and so damn hard to resist. It could’ve been anybody that I ended up naked with that night, but it wasn’t anybody. It was Colt Bishop, the son of my best friend, and now I can’t stop seeing him in that light.

Frustrated with myself, I close out of the app altogether and plug in my phone, setting it back on the nightstand. I’m a strong, mature man who doesn’t have to let a few indecent urges change anything, and he’s one guy in a world of billions. Who cares if the night was incredible and one of the best I’ve ever experienced. There will be other men and other nights.

Colt Bishop cannot be on my radar, and I need to figure out how to get off of his. I have enough on my plate now that I’m back in Copper Lake. I don’t have time to develop feelings for a man half my age.

8

Colt Bishop

Whit: Get your ass dressed. I’ll be at your house in five, and I’m picking you up.

Cope: Hey, man. Haven’t heard from you in a few days. How you feeling?

Bounding down the stairs, I find both of my parents in the living room, sitting in their respective recliners as they watch the Sunday morning news, coffee mugs in hand, robes tied around their waists, and slippers on their feet.

“Good morning, Colt,” my mom says with a smile. “Where are you heading to?”

“Whit’ll be here in a minute. I don’t know where we’re going; he just told me he was picking me up.”

“Well, that sounds fun.”

“Want me to bring you home anything?” I ask, slipping my feet into my boots that I keep by the door.

I’m still stuck in this damn sling, but I’m hoping I can get rid of it soon enough. I had my first physical therapy appointment earlier this week and it sucked. It hurt, and Iwas sore for days afterward, but I knew that would happen and expected it. Regardless, I’m over this damn sling. It’s too restricting, and I’m ready to get back to being able to do little, normal tasks.

My mom shakes her head. “That’s alright, but thank you for asking, honey.”

“Okay, I’ll be back later,” I call out as I unlock and open the front door. Whit’s truck is waiting in the driveway as I jog down the steps. Pulling open the passenger side door, I slide inside, tipping my chin at Whit as I do. “Hey, man. Where the hell are you taking me?”

He chuckles. “I got to run to the store to pick up something, and I’m taking you with me.”

“You dragged my ass out of the house to run errands with you?”

“Yes,” he replies simply. “It’s good for you to get out of the house, you know.”

“Okay, Mom,” I tease, buckling my seatbelt. “Where’s Reggie? Couldn’t he go with you instead?”

Whit’s jaw tenses as he puts the car in reverse and backs out of my parents’ driveway. “He’s working,” he explains. “And besides, he’s not the one out of work due to an injury. Like I said, getting out of the house is good for you.”

“You guys have been together quite a while now, yeah?” I ask him.

He nods, attention focused straight ahead on the road, hands firmly placed at ten and two on the steering wheel like the good little driver he is. “Yeah, it’s been about two years.”

“Damn. You guys planning to move in together any time soon?”

His face scrunches up, and I laugh at the way his glassesshift on his nose as he does. “No, why would we do that?” he asks, like he’s appalled I would ever suggest such a thing.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I deadpan. “Maybe because you’re in a serious relationship, and that’s typically what couples do after a certain amount of time to take things to the next level.”

Whit snorts—a sound completely out of character for him. “What do you know about serious relationships, Mr. I Have A New Body In My Bed Every Night?”

Scoffing, I say, “Hey, I take offense to that. I’ll have you know, I haven’t slept with anybody in, like, a month!”

“A whole month,” Whit replies in mock horror. “I’m surprised your dick hasn’t fallen off from loneliness.”

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