Page 58 of The History Between Us

Opening the oven, the heat and aroma from the honey glazed meat wafts over to me. It smells incredible. I add a little more water to the pan before shutting the door. “It smells good, Mom.”

She wipes her hands on her apron, grinning. “Thank you, baby. You doing okay?”

My brows knit together. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You seem a little off today. A little quieter than normal. Just wanted to make sure.” Closing the distance between us, she brings her hand up to my arm, squeezing. “I’m always here if you need to talk. I know I’m just your mom, and you may think I don’t understand what you’re going through, but I was there for your father when he was injured, and I know how hard it can be mentally. But I’m here for you.”

“I know, thanks, Mom.”

What does it say about me that riding is the furthest thing from my mind lately? That I’ve been so wrapped up in this shit with William to even be upset about my injury. I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing, but it’s true.

“And for what it’s worth,” she adds. “You seem to be healing very nicely. I have no doubt that you’ll be able to compete next season if you keep it up.”

I smile, knowing it probably looks as forced as it feels. “Let’s hope so.”

“I love you, Colt, and I’m so proud of everything you’veaccomplished. You’re a good man.”

Swallowing around the lump forming in my throat, I say, “I love you too.”

I’ve never been an overly emotional, in touch with my feelings type of guy, but the last few months I have been, and I don’t get it. Nor do I like it. I’m blaming it on my injury and the fact that I’ve had a lot more downtime to think about things. Feelings arenotall they’re cracked up to be, especially when I’m standing in the kitchen with my mom feeling my nose tingle and my throat tighten, like her telling me she is proud of me may actually make me fucking cry or something.

Fuck that.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. I’m heading up to my room for a minute. Think I left something in there when I moved back into my place.”

Suddenly, I feel so overwhelmed. Like the weight of the fucking world is sitting right on my chest, making me feel like I can’t drag in any air.What is going on with me?That’s not the first time my mother has told me she loves me or that she’s proud of me, so why is it hitting me so fucking hard? Blowing past my dad and William, I bound up the stairs, taking them two at a time before I make it down the hall to my old bedroom. Once the door is shut, I let out the breath I’d been holding, resting my back against the hard wood.

You’re a good man.

Am I, though? Would she still think I was a good man if she knew what I’d done with the man downstairs? Would she still think I was a good man if she knew how much I wanted to do it again and again? Is William right? Is what we were doing wrong? Crossing the space, I sit on the edge of my bed, elbows rested on my knees as my head hangs between my shoulders.

I shouldn’t have come today. Should’ve told my mom I was sick, and that I’d make it to the next Sunday dinner. Based on the way that William was in my every waking—and sleeping—thought, I had a feeling I was in way deeper than I’d originally intended. Clearly, I’ve developed feelings for the guy, just like Shooter had said. God, I fucking hate when that cocky bastard is right.

When the hell did that happen?

And how the hell did it happen?

This isnotme. I don’t crush on people. Don’t get caught up in my feelings for them. Hell, I don’t do feelings at all when it comes to sex. Sex has always been about fun for me. For release.

My head snaps up as the door creaks open. William walks in, a solemn look on his face as he closes it behind him. Standing up, I cross my arms over my chest. “What the hell are you doing in here?” There’s a bite to my words that takes me by surprise. “You don’t think it’ll be a little suspicious when my dad comes looking for you and finds you in here?”

“Your mom sent him to the store for some milk and a few other things. Apparently, she didn’t have enough to make the sauce.”

My heart clenches as he steps farther into the room. He stops before he’s too close to me. Maybe an arm’s length away. “Okay, and where exactly does my mom think you are?”

“The bathroom. I asked if she needed any help, and she shooed me out of the kitchen.”

“What are you doing in here?”

William’s close enough that I catch a whiff of his rich mahogany scent, and it makes my head fuzzy. His ocean eyes gaze at me imploringly before he utters, “I’m sorry, Colt.”

The apology takes me by surprise, and for a moment, Idon’t know what to say. “What? Sorry for what?”

Taking another step closer, my breath hitches at his new proximity. His eyes dip down to my mouth before coming back up. “For everything I said at my house the last time you were there. I was freaked out over getting caught by your friend, and I lashed out. I didn’t mean any of it.”

I let his words wash over me as my breaths come a little quicker. I want to take comfort in them, lean into them, but something makes anger flare in my gut. “If you’re so sorry and you didn’t mean it, then why the hell didn’t you reach out to me? It’s been radio silence from you since I left that night.”

William sighs. “I want to say it was because I was trying to give you space. You made it clear that night that you were upset—and rightfully so—but I think if I’m being honest with myself—and you—it’s probably because I’m still very nervous about all of this.”

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