Page 128 of Braving the Storm
“You don’t know shit, sweetheart.” I tip my beer back and nearly fucking drain the entire contents. My throat works as my mind scrambles to figure out what Colt thinks he knows.
“Well, I can sure as hell tell you how fucking miserable it feels when you wake up one morning and realize you let someone special slip through your fingers.”
I let the air rush out of my lungs, scrubbing one hand over my face. “That obvious, huh?”
His eyes drift to my knuckles for a second.
“Storm, you and I have known each other a long ass time. In all those years, aside from these bloody horses, I’ve never seen you take care of anything, or anyone, including yourself.”
An elephant sits itself on my chest, and I struggle down another swallow of my beer.
“It hurts like a bitch, and I don’t know much, but I can tell you love is a motherfucker.” He leans forward with elbows resting on his knees.
“Yeah, well, that motherfucker certainly knows how to play dirty.”
“She coming back?”
I shove my hand into my hair. “Dunno.”
“You heard from her?”
“What is this? Fifty fucking questions?” I grunt.
Colt scratches his beard and studies me quietly. “I’m not gonna let you waste away by yourself on this mountain and nearly make the same mistake I did.”
“Yeah, well, shit was simple for you.”
That makes him bark out a laugh. “Yeah. Real goddamn simple.”
Considering that I watched him mope around this ranch fornearly half a year before he finally went and found his girl, I know he understands this feeling, this sensation of being hollowed out and having your heart squeezed so damn tight it might implode.
Even if I don’t want to admit to him that I’ve been struggling to know how to even fucking breathe without her.
“As someone who nearly screwed up the best thing that ever happened to me, I’m telling you now, if you even have the faintest idea of where she is, go get her.” Colt turns his bottle around and around in his hands as he speaks softly.
Tugging on my hair, I shift my weight around. “This is shit I don’t know, Colt. Put me on the back of a bull; I can hang on and try not to get myself killed. Give me horses; I can hammer nails and fit shoes all day. Want me to herd cattle? I can fucking do it with one arm tied behind my back and a lame horse.”
I set my nearly empty bottle down, and crack my knuckles, leaning forward now. Feeling like my gut is churning as I admit out loud what I’ve kept swallowing down for weeks on end.
“What if she doesn’t fucking want what I have to offer? What if the reason she left is because I screwed it up.”
He continues to study his beer, as if reliving his own version of this fresh hell I’ve found myself incapable of climbing out of.
“Do you think you did something?” Colt finally speaks.
I hate that I can’t answer that question. My time with Briar was so intense and intertwined with her learning things about herself and exploring her own identity… I’ve wondered the same thing too many times while tossing and turning through sleepless nights. I’ve woken up with drenched sheets after nightmares that she was hurt by my hand in some way. That I was too rough with her, too demanding, too desperate.
Coughing into my fist, I finally dredge up a response. “I don’t know, but shit, maybe I’m just cursed to be alone… either way, how am I supposed to know what to do?”
Colt just shrugs like an unhelpful bastard. “You don't know until you at least try.”
“You boys hungry?” A gentle voice interrupts us. Layla appears, looking every inch the dirty little liar she is.
Scowling in her direction, I shake my head. “Don’t expect me to pick up the radio next time if there’s a real emergency.”
“Sorry?” She hits me with green eyes that are anything but apologetic. Her gaze, filled with curiosity, bounces quick-fire between me and Colt, trying to work out how much we’ve discussed so far. If Colt knows about Briar, then of course she does, too.
“Winnie-girl deserves better than to be dragged into your web of lies, Layla.” I scowl and receive an unrepentant, beaming smile in return.
