Page 86 of Brim Over Boot
“We were wondering the same thing,” Ashley says. “Were there clues at Hawk Hollow? Because we followed the final five at Eagle Back.”
“There were,” Mr. Yadav says, returning. “The trail diverged with two possible conclusions. Clever, right? You gentlemen are all set. Your clues have been confirmed, which means the chest is all yours. Let us know if you need any help wheeling it out of here.”
“It’s…incredibly light,” Colton says, testing the weight of it. “But thank you.”
I snort.
“Well, I guess now I know why you never called to meet back up when your trail ran cold,” Jackson says, raising an eyebrow. “Your traildidn’trun cold.”
“Hey, you didn’t call either,” Colton points out. “You were planning on finishing without me.”
“Uh, guys?” Ashley cuts in. “Maybe let’s not play the blame game when we’re all guilty of the same thing?”
“Point,” Colton says, sighing. “Anyone wanna grab some food? I’m fucking starved.”
We all agree, and Colton and I field some congratulations from the townsfolk before closing up our chest and locking it in his truck.
The four of us head down the sidewalk to get dinner. And all the while I can’t stop wondering why, when it mattered most, Colton helped me win the treasure hunt instead of his own brother.
Chapter 25
Colton
NoahandIarequiet as I drive him back to his motorcycle at the Hawk Hollow access point. I keep looking over at him, but his gaze is trained out the side of the truck, his elbow propped against the doorframe and his chin in his palm.
He’s been reserved ever since we finished the treasure hunt. Not that he’s a particularly boisterous person to begin with, but I get the impression there’s something on his mind.
I don’t quite know what to make of it. Or the thoughts in my own head.
I pull off onto the gravel in front of the guard rail, careful not to hit Daphne. There’s a tug in my chest when I remember he named the bike after his mother. I know nothing about his parents, and I feel guilty for that now. I couldn’t take a minute to ask him a few questions about his life?
Noah pops the door open once I come to a stop, and I follow after him. As he brings the bike around to the back, I lower the tailgate. Since we grabbed a board from the ranch, it’s not too difficult to push the bike up into the bed of the truck. Noah sets it down carefully. Reverently.
I nearly wince seeing the evidence of his spill on the side of the red frame.
“Thanks,” Noah says, hopping down.
I nod, following him and sliding the board up before hoisting the tailgate back into place. The drive to Noah’s is just as silent as before, and I start drumming my fingers against the wheel, nerves eating at me.
It’s not quite dark when I pull into Noah’s driveway. Not like the other times I’ve come here. With the help of the board, we get the motorcycle down, and Noah stores it inside his garage, shaking his head a little like he’s disheartened to see it looking worse for wear. Once he lowers the garage door, his eyes meet mine.
“Come on,” he says, heading for the front of the house.
I stand there, my keys in hand, confusion and indecision warring.
“Colt,” Noah says. Just my name.
My feet carry me forward.
Noah stops inside the front door, kicking off his boots. I take mine off, too, feeling like I’m having an out-of-body experience. The small foyer inside leads to a living room to the right, and a large doorway to the left opens into the kitchen. There’s a stairwell directly in front of us, curving up and to the right, and a narrow hallway that leads straight back.
“Walt?” Noah calls lightly.
“Back here,” Noah’s uncle says in return.
“Just getting home. You need anything?”
There’s a brief pause before Walter says, “Not a thing.”
