Page 18 of Colt
“Thanks.”
I tighten my hands on the steering wheel and stare straight ahead. I’m so rarely alone with Colt. It’s not really by design. I haven’t thought this much about my relationship with him in a really long time. About all the stages that we’ve gone through. About all the feelings. It’s just the near-death experience that brought it all up.
“This is weird,” he says.
“What is?”
“I’m used to…” He looks out the window, and we pass a sign that says Welcome to Gold Valley. And I can fill in the blanks. He’s used to a hero’s welcome. A triumphant return. He’s used to being Colt Campbell, the Golden Boy of Gold Valley.
It isn’t that he’snot, but I can understand why he feels like things are different now. I can’t imagine Colt sitting still. He’s active. He always has been. I have a hard time imagining him resting. He’s not the kind of guy who would ever do an office job. Not of his own accord. So, he isn’t going to be working during this time.
He likes to be outside. He works with the animals, with the land. But depending on how he heals, he’s going to have torethink. I suspect he hasn’t gone that far yet. I doubt he let himself.
I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to have that ugly truth sitting inside of me. That his life probably changed forever that day, and there’s nothing he can do about it. There’s no overachieving, no being blessed or golden or lucky that’s going to change it.
It’ll just be what it is. And only time will tell.
Both of us fall silent as we drive into town. Our houses are just a block away from Main Street. From all the little boutique shops that tourists love in Gold Valley.
It’s such a great town to walk in and walking down the street is going to be difficult for him now.
My stomach clenches. I know what it’s like to have your life change when you don’t want it to.
But my mom had cancer for a long time. I could see the change coming toward me for a long time. I didn’t want to believe it, of course. Nobody wants to believe that a diagnosis like that is final – regardless of what you’re told. We hoped, until the end. And then we did our very best to make that last bit of time as wonderful as possible.
But God, we all wanted more.
I know what it’s like to have everything changed. But change came for Colt like a freight train, and I’m sure that can’t be easy.
One thing I really know, though, is how you can’t negotiate with things like that. They come for you. Vicious and horrible, a rabid dog going straight for your throat, whether you’re ready or not.
But Colt isn’t one of those people who accepts. Not easily. It’s one of the things that drew me to him back when we were younger andnotrelated by marriage. Now, I can see where it might benefit him, but it’s also going to be difficult.
We drive down the side street that leads to our houses. Mine is white, with flower boxes underneath the windows filled with red geraniums, matching red shutters providing a punctuation mark to the crisp paint.
Colt’s is also pretty, though I know it’s not because he likes it that way. It’s because he keeps it up for his mom and does improvements whenever she asks him to in exchange for living there when he’s in town.
It’s white with black trim, and a lovely potted palm on the front porch, and looks like a far more mature person lives in it.
I don’t say that, though, as I steer his truck into the empty driveway.
“Do you think you can manage to get out of this beast on your crutches? Because if you flatten me, I’m not going to be able to help either of us.”
He looks at me, a scowl twisting his handsome face.
“I’m fine.”
I scrunch my nose. “Are you, though?”
I’m choosing violence, apparently. It’s all I seem to know how to do with him. Even when I don’t really mean to. It’s a learned reaction at this point. A choreographed dance. Pirouette, insult, plié, snarky comment, spin, keep him five steps away at all times, pas de bourrée and jazz hands!
“I swear to God, Allison.”
He begins to open the passenger door, and I quickly turn off the truck engine.
“What are you doing?” I unbuckle as quickly as possible, prepared to dive out of the truck. “Chill the fuck out, dude. Let me help you.”
“You just said you didn’t want me to flatten you.”
