Page 90 of Going Deep

“All right, I’m done stalling.” Colt pushed aside his demolished plate of fajitas and braced his massive forearms on the table. He still had his linebacker’s physique, that was for sure. “My brother’s headed back to see Coach.”

She nodded, her reply turning to dust that clogged her throat. His brother. Which meant this held much more significance for him than it did for her. She cared about Wade—he’d been her brother-in-law for five years, after all, and her own brother Rafe’s best friend for years before that—but his arrival in town affected Colt so much more.

And this bystander would just stay safely on the sidewalk until the Wade Parade finished passing through town.

“Uh, how do you feel about that?”

“How should I feel?” He leaned back and shoved a hand through his hair. “I’ve barely seen the guy in the past decade. We hardly even talk at Christmas. Hell, I got a fucking divorce, and he didn’t even send as much as an ‘I’m sorry’ but here he is, running back for Coach.” Before she could reply, he held up a hand. “I know that was a dick thing to say.”

“Yeah, kinda. A divorce isn’t a death.”

“Tell that to my lawyer.” Though he said it with a cheeky grin, she didn’t find it particularly amusing. Especially since she’d asked for a paltry amount of alimony in spite of her own attorney advising her to demand much more. She’d certainly had a case, since she’d put in so many hours on the Bennett farm. But all she’d wanted was to be done.

Now it felt like she was being sucked back into Bennett drama, and she’d forgotten her hip waders.

“Sorry,” he said, heaving out a breath. “You know I don’t mean that.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I also don’t know what you expect me to say about Wade. I’m happy he’s coming back,” she hastened to add. “I’m glad for you and your folks and Hollie, and especially for Coach. They were close. I think it’ll do him some good to have all the old team reunited.”

“Yeah. You’re right. It will. My parents are overjoyed. He called them and Hollie to let them know he was on his way.” Colt’s gaze drifted above her head to the framed photos on the wall of her mama’s favorite singers. She had eclectic taste, so they ranged from José José to Elvis. “You think Rosa will put Wade’s picture up here someday?”

She didn’t know why it made her laugh—or why the sound caught in her chest, like a breath she couldn’t fully take. “I’m not sure she’s ever even heard his music.”

“Sure she has,” he said easily. “We used to talk about him. She asked me once if he would come play a set here sometime.” He looked down at his hands. “I had to tell her he rarely returned my calls, so I couldn’t call and ask.”

“Colt,” she began, but he didn’t let her finish.

“You have to help me,” he said, leaning forward.

“Me?” She sprung backwards, pressing her spine to the back of the booth as if she could evade the urgency in his expression. “How can I help you?”

Surely he didn’t want her to intercede on his behalf with his brother. If so, how awkward would that be? She had never told him about the kiss, but she’d always assumed he knew. His mother certainly hadn’t been shy about

making insinuations that she’d tell Colt what had happened the second Charlene stepped out of line. But perhaps she never had.

Or maybe he simply didn’t think it mattered anymore. Ancient history, remember?

Cripes, she was acting like a junior high girl instead of a divorced woman of the world. Wade had probably kissed hundreds—maybe thousands—of women in the interim since their all-too-brief lip lock. Women trembled at the sound of his voice and tossed lacy underthings on the stage when he crooned. She was nothing to him. Less than nothing.

A memory. A mistake. A girl he’d forgotten.

“I think he resented me going into the NFL. I don’t know, maybe he thought he should’ve had a shot.” Colt sighed. “That if I hadn’t been there taking the glory, there would’ve been more room for him.”

Of course. She wasn’t even a factor. Not that she truly believed she could’ve come between the two men for even a second, but sometimes her thoughts turned fanciful and she imagined that maybe Wade had avoided Quinn because of her. Perhaps seeing her hurt, just a little. They’d come so close to having a chance at something, back when it had seemed like everything she wanted was in reach. Even if it meant risking it all.

Charlene swallowed and toyed with the napkin on her lap. After her papa’s early death, her mama had warned her to stay away from dreamers like Wade, because they’d never be able to take care of her and her future kids. She needed someone she could count on to be a stable provider, like Colt.

Colt, who’d aimed toward professional football from the time he was a kid.

Colt, who had divorced her when he’d realized what she had known for too long—any spark between them had vanished after she’d miscarried the baby that had led to their shotgun wedding. Besides, she didn’t need anyone to provide for her. She was doing just fine on her own.

But if Wade had ever truly looked her way, she wouldn’t have cared about her mama’s admonition. She would’ve climbed on the back of his beat-up Harley and ridden off into that dust-encrusted sunset with him, because she could see the future in his eyes.

Or she had, once. So long ago. Back when possibilities had stretched in front of her like a ribbon, and she couldn’t make the spool unfurl fast enough.

“You think he hasn’t been around home much for over a decade because he resented your success in the NFL? He’s had some success of his own, you know.”

“I do know, and I’m happy for him. There’s something, Char. Don’t know what, but we used to be close. You used to be close to him too.”

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