Page 75 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

“Please call him,” she begs. “See if you can go see his new place. Maybe chat with him a bit? Ask how he’s doing? He’ll be more honest with you than he is with me.”

“Mom,” I groan.

“Please? I’ll make cookies.”

“You’re already making cookies.”

Colt snorts but doesn’t look my way, attempting to give me privacy, though it’s pointless. Clearly, he can hear the entire conversation.

I glance at him, let out another quiet laugh, and clear my throat. “Fine. I’ll check up on him.”

“Promise?”

“Yes. But only if you make enough cookies for Colt too.”

“Oh, is he there with you?” she asks, her tone lightening.

Colt leans closer to the cell and calls, “Hey, Mama Taylor.”

I put the call on speaker in time to hear Mom’s voice. “Hey, my favorite Colt! How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Good. You should go with Theo to comfort Macklin. He had a messy divorce last year––”

“Two years,” I correct her.

“Well, the paperwork wasn’t signed until last year, but you’re right. They’ve been separated for two years now,” she concedes, “and he needs some extra support. Do you think you could help Theodore?”

“Colt has enough on his plate,” I deflect for him. “But I’ll be sure to give Mack a call, okay?”

“Okay, honey. And, Colt?”

“Yeah?” he answers, leaning a little closer to my phone.

“Make sure Theodore gives you a plate of cookies when I drop them off later. All right? I know how you boys are. Always hoarding everything in your rooms instead of leaving it in the common area.”

“I don’t hoard,” I start, but Colt cuts me off. “Sure thing, Mama Taylor.”

“Love you, boys!”

“Love you too,” we grumble in unison.

I hang up the phone and look at Colt again, refusing to hope for the best when I definitely deserve to have my ass kicked for the shit I pulled with Blake. We’ve been through a lot over the years. A lot of highs, and a few shitty lows too. Maybe this will just be another one for the books.

“So…are we good?” I ask, my voice gritty and unsure.

His chin dips. “Fix it with Blake, and we’re good.” He decks my shoulder, and pain radiates into my neck and down to my elbow almost instantly. “And don’t lie to me again. All right?”

With a laugh, I rub at the sore spot on my arm, grateful it wasn’t my face even when we both know I would’ve deserved it either way. “Yeah, man. I promise.”

“And don’t forget to give me some of your mom’s cookies. Those things are the best.”

Relief settles into my bones as I push myself to my feet and offer my hand for Colt to take.

When he does, I answer, “Deal.”

23

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