Page 27 of Colt
“It’s good to be out of the hospital.”
Dallas claps my shoulder, and Sarah does the same, before the two of them leave.
I decide to turn some of my irritation onto Allison, and I know it’s not fair. Even as the words exit my mouth, I know it’s not fair. I decide to do it anyway.
“I don’t need you to babysit me.”
“You don’t? Because you're over-exhausting yourself and you just lied to your best friend.”
“No, I didn’t,” I say. Which is dumb, because she was there, and she knows full well that I lied.
“You really believe that you’re going to be back at it in a few months?”
I stare at the back wall. “That’s not anything that I need to think about right now.”
“I think it would be good if you did. I think it’s probably smart for you to try and figure out what things might look like in six months.”
“No, thank you. You know what, I am tired, and I think you should go home.”
She lowers her brows, her forehead creasing. “Don’t do this. Don’t be mean to me just because I know what’s going on with you.”
“You know what’s going on with me? That’s kind of a trick. Considering I don’t know what’s going on with me.”
“Whatever. Good night.” She moves over to my TV tray, scoots out of my way, and takes my plate.
“I don’t need you to do that.”
Her eyes meet mine, a stubborn expression on her face, and she slams the plate back down on the tray. “Okay. Enjoy cleanup. I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow about groceries.”
I regret everything that’s come out of my mouth since Dallas and Sarah walked out the door, but I don’t quite know what to do with it.
I don’t know how to course correct, because it would mean backing down, apologizing. It would mean accessing the kind of sincerity that feels like it might scrape me raw now.
So I don’t say anything. I just watch her collect her things and storm out of the house. And then I’m left alone. With my thoughts. With my memories. With everything that terrifies me.
And I wish I had done things differently.
Chapter Eight
Allison
As annoyed as I am, I decide to go check on him in person the next morning. I let everything he said last night get to me a little bit too deeply. I know Colt better than that. I know him well enough that I should’ve just breezed past all his inflammatory statements. I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin. He’s putting on a brave face for Sarah and Dallas, and calling him out on that was an affront to his pride, and I know Colt well enough to know he won’t allow that. So why couldn’t I let it go? I don’t know. But I’ve got a stake in how badly things went last night, if only because I should respect that he’s not in the best place.
But hearing him say that – hearing him say that he was going to be right back in the arena in just a few months worried me.
I don’t want him to go back to riding. And not only that, I’m not sure it’s possible, and the idea that he’s in denial on that level frightens me.
I don’t think he is, though. I kind of think he just wishes he could be.
I text him, and I don’t get a response. I get dressed for the day and grab my bag of coffee beans, intent on making him some at his place. Then I have to work for about three hours at the store, put in a couple of hours of coursework, and take care of the grocery shopping, I guess.
I ring the doorbell, but he doesn’t answer. And that’s when I start getting worried. I fish around for the extra key that I know is hidden at the front of the house, and with some hesitation, I unlocked the door.
I hear running water in the house, the sound of the shower.
We were sent home with a few things to help him shower, but the idea of him doing it by himself…
He might’ve fallen. What if he’s unconscious?
