Page 73 of The History Between Us

“Holy shit,” Shooter blurts out. “Colt is a kept man.” He laughs. “Never thought I’d see the fucking day. Bye, you two. I’m off to find my own man.” Taking a few steps, he stops and looks over his shoulder to add, “You’re welcome, by the way.”

My brows pinch together. “For what?”

“For stopping Max from kicking your ass.”

Shooter doesn’t wait for a response. He smirks before disappearing into the night.

“He wouldn’t have kicked my ass,” I grumble as Colt and I walk to my car.

“Sure, he wouldn’t have,” Colt teases.

I can’t deny how much better I feel knowing we’re at least out in the open now. Sure, my friend is pissed and hurt, rightfully so, and he may never forgive me—although, I hope he will—but at least we don’t have to hide anymore, and that’s still a win in my book.

The rest we can worry about later.

33

Colt Bishop

Rolling over in bed, I peel my eyes open, the morning light peeking in through the crack in the curtain. I grab my phone off the nightstand and check the time. It’s just after eight. It’s been four days since the blowup with my dad on New Year’s Eve. The next morning, I called my mom, and she suggested giving my dad a little more space, as he was still pretty pissed. But I’m ready to hash this shit out already.

I roll out of bed, going to the bathroom to take a quick leak before padding down the stairs. The savory, slightly sweet scent of bacon fills my nostrils, making my stomach grumble as I walk down the hall, finding William standing shirtless with a pair of flannel pajamas slung low on his hips with his feet bare in his kitchen in front of the stove.

“Morning,” I rasp, dragging a hand through my sleepy, mussed up hair.

Glancing over his shoulder, a smile curves his beautiful, full lips. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Great. Your bed is comfier than mine. I think I need tobuy a new mattress.”

William chuckles. “There’s coffee.” He nods toward the pot in the corner. “And breakfast is almost done.”

Walking up behind him, I wrap my arms around his large form, cheek pressed against the warmth of his back. Covering my hands with one of his own, he squeezes while he continues flipping the bacon or stirring the eggs or whatever it is he’s doing that I can’t see. Since New Year’s, we’ve spent every night together. We’ve both been busy—him with work, me with training—but it’s like neither of us wants to sleep without the other. We spent a couple of nights at my place before coming here. There’s something so enjoyable about starting my day eating breakfast with William and Roger.

“Want any help?” I murmur, not wanting to let him go.

“Nah, I got it.” His chest rumbles with his deep voice. “My dad and Winnie are outside on the back porch if you want to go out there. I’ll bring everything out on a tray when it’s done.”

“Okay.”

Turning around, he leans down, pressing his lips to mine for a quick kiss. “I’ll never get over how good you look in my house in the morning.”

My cheeks heat as I turn and leave the kitchen, padding through the house toward the back door. It’s a chilly but nice morning. The sun is shining bright, the grass frosted over from how cold it got overnight. Roger’s sitting in one of the recliners out there, wrapped in a huge robe and fuzzy socks, a portable heater blasting in his direction.

Eyes lifting from the phone in his hand, most likely reading the news, he smiles when he spots me. “Good morning, Colt.”

“Morning.” Wrapping a blanket around my shoulders, I take a seat in the chair next to him, Winnie jumping in my lapright away. I’ve really come to care for Roger. I’ve always liked him; he was my doctor for most of my life, but since getting to know him a bit more personally, he’s a really cool guy.

“You guys going over to your folks’ today?” he asks, gaze flitting over to me.

“Yeah, after breakfast, I think we’re going over there.” Nerves line my stomach. “We’ll see how it goes.”

“He’ll come around, son.”

“What if he doesn’t?” It’s a question that leaves me feeling vulnerable. If I’m being honest with myself, it’s a genuine concern of mine.What if my dad doesn’t come around?I care deeply for William—hell, I think I’m in love with him—and nothing will make me walk away from him, but it would sting to know my dad wouldn’t approve.

My whole life, I’ve looked up to my father. Wanted to be just like him. Make him proud. I know he’s proud of me and the life I’ve fought for, but I need him to accept my feelings for William. I can’t imagine not getting to share that part of me with one of the most important people in my life. My dad is my hero, my original role model. Even as a grown adult, I crave his acceptance and pride. I think anybody would.

“Colt, I’ve known your dad his entire life. “He can be stubborn and a whole lot hotheaded, but you’re his son. He loves you more than life itself. He may be mad, probably a little blindsided, but he’ll come around. That much I know.”

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