Page 10 of Colt
“What?”
“I passed out in the cafeteria, and I hit my head.” I indicate the bump on my forehead, which I can feel growing as each moment passes.
“Jesus Christ, Allison.”
“What? You’re saying that like Ichoseto do it, like I’m stealing your thunder. I’m not your little sister on that level.” Those words come out in a rush, and I regret them when he looks at me with a light in his eyes that makes my stomach go tight.
“You kind ofare,” he says, his tone dry. “I mean, here I am, the victim of a hideous accident, and you have to go get yourself admitted to the hospital too?”
“I’mnotadmitted,” I clarify. “It’s not that bad. I’m just safer if I’m not alone, and hey, I’m not, because I’m staying with you so that your mom can have a break.”
“I’m not a toddler. I’m not going to wander out of here if I’m left unsupervised.”
We glance at each other, and I fight the urge to smile, because there is a small amount of humor in that. As terrible as it all is.
“If you weren’t in traction, you might, though, and we both know that.”
“True. Are you okay?”
The sincere concern in his tone warms me. It’s rare that Colt and I have an exchange that could be called anything like sincere. I’m not really sure if it’s his fault or mine. Or if it’s just a pattern that we’re in. One that we’ve created over years, where I’m kind of a brat to him, and he teases me, which makes me angry, because I don’t want him to tease me.
That’s all old stuff. I remember hating it, because it felt like he was making me into that little sister that I never wanted to be to him. It’s complicated, because I really do love his mom.She’s been wonderful. She brought a substantial amount of joy into our family, and into my dad’s life specifically. After my mom died, it was like a piece of him was missing. Cindy brought a different piece into his life. Not the same one that went away when my mom died, but something entirely new.
Something he very much deserved.
But having to deal with the indignity of my painful secret crush becoming my stepbrother almost killed me.
Okay, it didn’t almost kill me, but I was thirteen, so it felt about as fatal as anything can.
It still doesn’t feel great.
And our foundation is built on that crunchy, difficult, awful time.
He probably doesn’t even know why. And if I were really mature, maybe I would let my guard down and talk to him about it with some honesty. Because it isn’t like I…
Our eyes meet, I catch my breath, and look away.
No. It’s not like that. But it doesn’t mean I don’t know how beautiful he is. Even as messed up as he is right now.
“You need to take care of yourself,” he says.
“I’m taking care of myself,” I say, trying to keep the attitude out of my voice.
Someone in scrubs comes in with a cart laden with food, leaves a tray next to Colt, and then one next to me.
“Thank you,” I say, as I lift the lid on the tray, and am greeted by food that looks shockingly decent.
“I just have… I got lightheaded, because I haven’t eaten,” I say, indicating the plate of food in front of me.
“Well, you ought to eat,” he says.
“Yes. That’s what I’m doing.”
He looks over at the tray. “I’m not that hungry.”
“Probably because you’ve been on an IV drip. It’s very likely that you’re swollen with fluids.”
“Well,” Colt says. “Just when I thought I couldn’t feel any sexier, not only is my leg up in traction, and my head is stitched back together, and I think I have gauze packed into my stomach, but I’m swollen with fluids. Truly, this is a high point.”
