Page 45 of From the Ashes
That word is so complicated. Legally, that night, I was an adult. And thank God for it too, otherwise I have no doubts that Phoenix wouldn’t have touched me. He made me feel like the adult my driver’s license and the federal government said I was. But eighteen issoyoung. Lexi and Iwerekids. We were babies having a baby.
“I hope you know I’ve never been angry with you,” she says, drawing me back to the conversation. “Besides, how could I be? Colton is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He’s a lot like you.” I hear the smile in her voice and it’s almost enough to have me smiling too. “I thought you’d be a lot madder at me for not going through with the abortion,” she admits.
This conversation is far too heavy to have over the phone, but I force the truth out anyway.
“How couldIbe mad atyouwhen I left you alone and took off for the rodeo, Lex? I left you alone in an impossible situation, forcing you to deal with it on your own. And fuck if—” I have to stop because I’m so choked up. I’m breathing hard into the phone, my words hard to understand, but Alexis deserves to hear me break. She deserves to hear me cry. So, I do. Through choked sobs, I push out the rest of my thoughts. “And fuck if I haven’t regretted it every day since. The guilt is so bad somedays, I wish one of these horses would just fucking trample me.”
It’s the first time I’ve admitted that out loud.
“Walker,no!” she protests with an anguished, yelled whisper. “Don’t ever feel that way,please.Colt gives me purpose and drives me forward on the tough days when life feels impossible. I honestly don’t know that I would’ve made it this far if it weren’t for him. And I wouldn’t have him if it weren’t for you.”
Tears are openly streaming down my face at this point. I taste their saltiness as they breach my lips.
“You deserve so much better than what you’ve been given,” I tell the incredible woman on the other end of the line, picturing her black rimmed glasses and frizzy ponytail. Her social media has no pictures of herorColt on it. Just images of nature, alotof animals, and facts about veterinary medicine, so the only image I have of her is from the last time I saw her.
“I don’t know aboutdeserve, but I’m not afraid to work for it. And like I mentioned, I’m not asking you for anything, Walker. This isn’t some crappy attempt to collect on a payday. Colt and I are doing fine.”
“Alexis, of course I want to help,” I reply adamantly. Not to mention, Iknowher. She doesn’t have a manipulative bone in her body nor would she ask for help even if she really needed it. “Look, I actually got thrown today and fractured my wrist, so my season’s done, but I’m staying in North Carolina with a friend for a little bit. I think I’d like to meet Colton…I just…can I have a little more time to prepare?”
Between my injury, being back in not only Phoenix’s presence, but hishouse,losing my coach, and finding out I have a son, I feel worn a little thin and I need to get some solid ground under my feet before entering my kid’s life.
“Sure, take all the time you need. Thank you for calling, Walker. It’s really good to hear from you.”
“You, too, Lex. Thankyoufor being so fucking brave and saving our son. I promise I’ll call as soon as I find my balls and we’ll figure this out.”
My pain eases slightly when she chuckles through her own tears. “I probably remember where they are if you need help locating them.”
Despite everything, I laugh, because that’s so perfectly Alexis. She isn’t being dirty. She isn’t coming on to me. She’s just making me feel better. Like she always did.
By the time we get off the phone, I’m in a weird state of finding relief and also needing another drink.
Chapter 22
Phoenix
I’m lying in bed, knowing it’s pointless to try and sleep. Once Walker came upstairs though, I couldn’t really convince myself to stay in the living room. Like somehow managing for eight years in different time zones was suddenly unthinkable and I couldn’t even handle being on a different floor.
The angel and demon continue waging war on my shoulder. One wants me to just give in to whatever this is between us, accepting the small amount of time we have. The other, more rational side reminds me that I still harbor a decent amount of anger toward Walker along with some resentment—although, these days, that’s mostly directed at myself for not being able to shut him out during the ride that almost ended my life. Nonetheless, he’s here temporarily,handlingsomething, and then he’ll be gone.
The small amount of feeling that seeps out when I’m at my weakest tells me if I let him in anymore, it’ll kill me when he goes.
Again…damned if I do. Damned if I don’t.
I hear the low hum of his voice through the walls. I can’t make out what he’s saying and I fight the urge to press my ear to the wall we share.
A short while later, I hear the unmistakable sound of a sob.
The urge to physically harm whoever is causing him pain has me throwing back my covers ready to march into his room and launch my own personal crusade. But before I can barge in there like a complete idiot and demand he tell me what’s going on, I hear his door open followed by the creak of his weight on the stairs.
Maybe he wants a glass of water or something?
I lie in wait for what feels like half an hour and when he doesn’t return, I grab some shorts and a t-shirt and go in search of him, afraid he’s going to try and duck out in the middle of the night.
I round the bottom of the staircase, heading toward the kitchen, and come up short when I see him, still in the same baggy t-shirt he put on after his shower, hating it because it hides his body from me.
Stop being a creep.
He doesn’t look up when I come into the kitchen, but instead, swirls the—what I assume is—liquor in his cup.
