Colt still didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t lift his glass to his lips or throw it against the wall. He just kept his eyes on me and the blame was clear.
“I was twenty,” I continued, knowing it was weak but also knowing it was true, “she was everything I wasn’t and you were… you were…” I couldn’t find a word that said it all and what I used was just as weak but it’d have to do, “golden.”
Even hearing the wonder I had of him heavy in that word, Colt gave me nothing.
“You could have had anyone you wanted, in this town, out of it, anywhere you went, anyone you wanted. Why’d you want me?” I asked and, not surprisingly, Colt didn’t answer so I forged on. “She was sweet and quiet and shy. She was small and pretty and dark. I wasn’t any of that. I was loud, I was wild, I did crazy shit,” I explained. “That night I was drunk, I got home after seein’ you two and my mind played tricks on me. Tricks it’d been playin’ for a good long while.” I shook my head, knowing it was stupid now but thinking it was real back then and said, “You wouldn’t have sex with me.”
There it was, finally his hand twitched, the bourbon sloshing in his glass.
That was all he gave me but it was something.
“I was getting worried, Colt,” I whispered. “You seemed to want me but didn’t want me. I didn’t understand, even though you told me. You were a guy, I was willing to give it up, I made that clear, but you didn’t wanna take it and that didn’t make sense.”
I watched but he gave me nothing more.
I kept going. “So, seeing you with Amy, being drunk and twenty and wanting you and not getting all of you, seeing you with her, I know I was wrong now but then it seemed obvious to me.” I hurried on, having to get it out. “I know it was stupid, I know that now, I didn’t know it then, I couldn’t. All I knew was you gave her something you wouldn’t give me. How could I know that you’d both been drugged? That kind of shit never occurred to me.”
I waited and Colt just watched me, unmoving.
There it was. That was it. It was done and pain burned through me so blistering, so deep, my body started shaking trying to hold myself standing.
But if we went our separate ways for good, he deserved to go his way knowing it all.
“Pete took my virginity,” I told him and I watched his head jerk, surprise flashed across his features before they settled into disbelief.
“I know,” I went on, “what those guys said, I know all about it. I know everyone was talkin’ about me. I’m not denyin’ I went wild, got drunk, partied, smoked too much pot, fooled around. None of those guys got as far as you though, not near as far. You probably don’t believe me and why they said that shit, I don’t know and I didn’t care. I’d lost everything, my sole reason for being was tryin’ to numb the pain and everyone thought the worst of me, what did it matter? Why fight it?” I lifted a hand and pulled my hair away from my face, holding it at the back of my head, looking to the floor, talking to myself. “And in the end, I gave it to Pete. Fuck. Pete. So goddamned stupid, I was always so goddamned stupid.”
I dropped my hand and looked at him. He’d changed, I didn’t know how but he had. Though I saw it, the change didn’t register on me. I had my story to tell and I had to get out. I was done with it all. Colt was right, I couldn’t hack it and I was going to haul ass. But I was going to do this first, he deserved that.
“Far as I knew, my first boyfriend cheated on me, any guy I kissed lied about me and my husband beat me. I know you know this but that time you saw me wasn’t the only time he used his fists on me, it was just the worst,” I informed him, not looking at him, my eyes having wandered over his shoulder. “Then I took off and kept myself to myself. I was lonely but I didn’t care about that either. Lonely’s a different kind of pain, it doesn’t hurt as bad as heartbreak. I preferred it and embraced it ‘cause I reckoned it was one or the other. It took me five years to find Butch and there was no one between him and Pete. I was workin’ a bar in Georgetown and Butch came in. After that he came in as regular as he could for six months before he hired me at his bar. I worked there for two months before he got a date. We’d been together for four more before I let him fuck me and we’d been exclusive another six before I moved in with him. He was patient, worked at it hard and we had good times but the minute he got it, he threw it away. I shoulda known he would but I fell for it, fell for him. Stupid, stupid February.”
“Feb –” Colt said but by then I was still looking over his shoulder, unfocused, unseeing, lost in my memories of a man dead because of me and memories of my life, all those memories dead too, also because of me.
“Liars, cheaters, beaters. Who needs that shit?” I asked the wall.
“Feb –” Colt repeated but I talked right over him.
“After Butch, I was done. Met a guy, name’s Reece, worked a bar I was at, a drifter like me. We kept in touch, even apart if we found we were close, we’d get together. He’d have women between times, not me, no one. Reece was safe, he made no promises and didn’t mind I held everything back, preferred it that way. We both had one thing to give and we both took it. He cut through the lonely every once in awhile, which was good because by the time we’d hook up, I’d need a break. He had a bike, would take me for rides,” I closed my eyes, felt my lips form a half smile and finished on a whisper, “God, those rides… only times I ever felt free ‘cause they were the only times I’d let me be me.”
“Feb.”
My eyes shot open because my name was said close and I saw why. Colt, glass gone, was standing right in front of me. He was looking at my face not in my eyes and I knew what he was seeing. I realized then I had started crying somewhere down the line, so lost in my stupid tale of woe, I didn’t even know when.
That didn’t matter either. Nothing mattered anymore.
“Denny wins,” I whispered, my head tilted back, my eyes on Colt’s and when I spoke his eyes came to mine. “He wanted every piece of me? He’s got it. The fuck of it is; I helped him along the way.”
Colt lifted his hand and slid his fingers to curl around the back of my neck.
“Baby –” he murmured.
I jerked away from his hand and stepped away, I couldn’t take his touch. Not again. The memory of it was too sweet, so sweet, it made my jaws lock. I turned, done sharing, I’d not share again. It hurt too much. I felt something close down inside of me as I took my first step to the door then, during the second one, it locked. Seemed strange I’d lock someplace that was empty inside me, nothing treasured to keep safe inside but I locked it all the same.
I didn’t get the third step in.
Colt’s arm hooked around my stomach and he hauled me back. I hit his body and his other arm came around me, holding strong, locking me close, no way to escape even if I fought it which I didn’t, I had nothing left in me.
His mouth was at my ear when he said, “Only way Denny could win is if we let him, baby.”
I shook my head and said, “Colt, let me go, we both know we should have never started this again. We both know.”
His arms grew tighter. “You walk away from me, you let him win.”
“He’s already won.”
“He hasn’t, Feb.”
“He has and I helped. I got five lives on my soul, six, you count whatever happened to your son. No turning back the clock, right?”
His tight arms gave me a shake. “You aren’t responsible for that, any of it.”
“No?”
I felt his head shake. He was so close, his stubble caught at my hair. “None of it.”
“I don’t agree and when I walked in here you felt the same way.”
One of his arms left my belly and came up to lock around my upper chest.
“I was pissed, baby.”
I nodded. “Sure, now you feel bad, my sad story, you’re over it. You get pissed next week, next month, then where will I be?”
“Feb –”
“Right back where I was ten minutes ago, Colt.” I pressed
against his arms. “Let me go.”
“Feb –”
“That’s not a life I’m willin’ to lead.”
“Feb –” “Colt, let me go.”
He gave me another shake, this one was rougher almost a jerk and I knew he wanted my attention at the same time he was losing control. I stopped pressing and Colt started talking.
“Honey, I did that twenty-two years ago and doin’ it again would mean me leading a life I’m not willin’ to lead.” He let my chest go but used my waist to whirl me to face him, his hands locked on either side of my neck, keeping me where I was and he dipped his face close to mine so he was all I could see. “You wanna play the blame game?” he asked. “We’ll play.”
This was said in a voice firm as steel and I braced because I’d heard that voice before. He talked to Susie like that except this time there was no ugly, just hard.
Colt kept talking. “You walked away and I was such a jackass, I let you go. The hurt happened on both sides and we both acted stupid and gave into it. I knew I didn’t do anything wrong but how hard did I try to convince you of that? You weren’t who all those guys said you were bein’, I knew it and I still believed it because I had to believe that new Feb was the one who broke up with me. We were both young, we were both stupid and we were both fucked over and we didn’t know it.” His fingers gave me a squeeze. “Now we know we’re bein’ fucked over and we let him do it again, we let him fuck us, we let him tear us apart, that’s when we really let him win.”
“Colt –”
“Only thing he wants is you,” Colt said. “Maybe only thing he ever wanted in this world. You give yourself to me, he can’t have it.” His hands gave me another squeeze. “Like it right now or not, Feb, coupla days ago, you gave yourself back to me. You think I’m lettin’ that go, think again because, baby, you’re fucking wrong.”
“Colt –”
“Hear me?”
“Colt –”
Another finger squeeze. “February, do you hear me?”
The tears came back, I felt them this time, pooling in my eyes and sliding down my cheeks with that sinister little tickle they always left in their wake.
I didn’t touch him, get closer, nothing, just looked in his eyes when I gave him the only thing I had left to give.
“Got a place inside me,” I whispered, “back then, way back then, I held it to me, don’t know why, maybe because I thought you were holding something back from me, but I never let you in.”
He dropped his forehead to mine and closed his eyes. “Honey –”
“You got in, Colt,” I said and watched, super close, as his eyes opened and his hands tightened on my neck, no squeeze this time, they stayed tight and I could feel the pad of every finger pressing into my skin. “Few days ago, you got in. I didn’t let you in, you just got in.” Finally I lifted my hands to his chest and bunched his shirt in my fingers. “I wanna lock you there,” I whispered, scared to death but sharing it all, hiding nothing, giving him everything, fighting the hitch in my voice that my tears were threatening. “Lock you up tight inside me, babe, and never let you out.”
His hands came to my face and his lips came to mine. “Don’t want out, Feb.”
“You say that but you don’t know what I mean.” My mouth moved under his. “I won’t let you out even if I make it so you want to leave.”
“Baby, I’ll never want to leave.”
My hands twisted in his shirt. “Promise me.”
He didn’t promise me, not then or, more to the point, not with words.
He kissed me, his mouth opening over mine, mine doing the same under his, his tongue spiking inside, his fingers gliding into my hair, fisting. I felt pain in my scalp but it didn’t register as I pressed into him, flattening my hands on his chest, caging them between us, caught up in a wordless promise that was the most beautiful thing I’d ever experienced, the most wondrous gift I’d ever been given in my life.
It was only after he lifted his head that he said the words he didn’t need to say anymore.
“I promise, February.”
I felt a weird, wonderful, warm whoosh flow through me, so much of it, whatever it was, I thought it had to start leaking out my pores, gushing right back out. Somehow, against the odds, my skin contained it and held it safe inside.
Once it settled, my hands glided up Colt’s chest, his neck and my fingers slid into his hair. I went up on my toes and I kissed him, giving him my own promise.
* * * * *
It was late when Colt closed the door behind Jimbo and Jessie, locked it and turned to the kitchen.
February and Jackie were in it, Feb drying a big stockpot with a kitchen towel, Jackie handwashing glasses and turning them upside down in the dish drainer.
At the sight something soothing slid through him, coating the rawness he’d felt all day. It didn’t do much to take the pain away, the pain of knowing what was done to him, to Amy, to Feb and the fact he had a son out there somewhere, but it helped, even just a little bit.
He knew that rawness would remain for a long time. He saw it in the eyes of a lot of people, rape victims who still had it stark on their faces months later while they sat on witness stands. Folks who’d been robbed who he’d see years later and he knew they now had dogs and alarms because that little sign was stuck in their yard warning those who might try again that they’d called Chip to install the system.
He couldn’t handle that now, trying to figure out what would heal the hurt, turn it to a scar, keep him from picking at it. Whatever happened earlier that night, and the shit of it was he didn’t help it by acting like a selfish ass; Feb was slipping through his fingers. She might have said she’d locked him tight but she was ready to bolt. Controlled panic was etched into her face and all along her frame and Colt had to put all his energy toward keeping his woman sane.
“Leave those to drip dry, baby girl,” Jackie said when Feb put away the stockpot and reached for a glass.
“Don’t like to face dishes in the morning,” Feb muttered and Jackie’s eyes moved to him.
He saw she was feeling what he was feeling but hers was double. All her energy was focused on keeping her daughter together and the same went for him. Two of her cubs got cornered under her watch and it tore at her.
Knowing Jackie was feeling that, Colt was struggling with his grip on justice, not knowing which was the better fate for Denny Lowe. Death riddled by bullets fired from the guns of an army of Feds or the rest of his life, rotting behind bars hopefully being gang raped at both ends.
It might make him sick but he decided instantly he preferred the last.
Colt shook his head at Jackie and she nodded. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d communicated to her but he was sure, whatever it was, she trusted it.
He walked to the couch and sat down, needing more than anything to take a load off while Jackie announced, “Welp, cookin’ for eleven people and cleanin’ up after them done wore me out. I’m hittin’ the hay.”
Feb kept drying glasses and reaching up to place them in the cupboard as she said, “You gonna be able to sleep in the midst of garlic smells and lingering paint fumes, Mamma Jamma?”
There it was, another balm, Feb calling Jackie “Mamma Jamma”, her nickname for her mother, something she used to say that also used to make him jealous, not having a mother he could nickname. Then his mother became Jackie and that jealousy slid clean away.
“So bushed, I could sleep while someone was painting around me,” Jackie said back, leaned into her daughter and kissed her cheek. “‘Night, my sweet child.”
Feb’s voice was rough when she replied, “‘Night, Mom.”
Jackie came to Colt, who’d put his feet up on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles and was too exhausted to move as she walked to him.
She didn’t mind. She just leaned down and put her hand to his face and kissed his opposite cheek.
“‘Sleep well, Jackie,” he muttered while she did this, thinking she’d move away but s
he stayed leaned over him, her hand on his face but her head came up and her eyes went to his.
“You know, long time ago, I looked it up,” she told him.
“What?” Colt asked.
“Your name,” she told him, her voice soft, her eyes on his unwavering and he held his breath, knowing what was coming was going to strike deep and he wasn’t wrong.
“‘Alexander’,” she said, “means warrior, defender. Colton, colt,” she smiled, “well, we all know a colt’s got so much energy, always beautiful little things, strong, fast, all of ‘em gonna grow up to be something magnificent.”
“Jackie –” Colt murmured, forgetting about that rawness. Her words, in that moment, swept it away.
“Can’t say much for your folks,” she whispered, “but in their miserable lives they did one thing right. They made you and after they gave you to this world, they gave you a name that fits. Don’t you think?”
He didn’t answer her and she didn’t wait for him to do it. She patted his face, straightened and walked quickly away.
Colt’s eyes followed her and a memory hit him as they did.
He heard her voice coming at him from a long time ago. It wasn’t soft, it wasn’t a whisper, it wasn’t like it was five seconds ago, filled with so much love, mixed with a mother’s longing to take away a hurt she couldn’t ease. It was filled with anger and determination.
He was sixteen and sitting on the side of an exam table in the ER. His nose was broken, a bandage across it, the cut under his eye stitched, his knuckles wrapped, his eye swollen shut. His father wasn’t stronger than him, not at that time, hard living had worn the strength right out of him and definitely not when he was as shitfaced as when he started it with Colt. But he was wily, he was mean and he didn’t have a problem not fighting fair. Colt gave him a good thrashing but his Dad got his licks in for certain.
Feb was sitting beside him. She’d hooked one of her feet around his calf and she was swinging their legs together. She had his hand wrapped tight in hers, palm against palm, both of them resting on her thigh and he could feel the muscles flexing as she swung their legs together. Her moving their legs jarred his body and it hurt his busted ribs but he didn’t say a word, he wouldn’t have stopped her if he was in agony.