Page 182 of Colt

“Where’s Colt now?” I asked the boys. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Cash assured me. “His mom’s in a bad way, mainly ‘cause his asshole of a dad’s up to his mind game tricks again. He’s held up in New York indefinitely ‘cause his mom’s had a mental break. He’ll be back for Freya; he just doesn’t know when.”

My gut clenched at the mention of my girl.

I’d been a cunt to her and her mother, a woman I liked and respected above most other people I knew. When I threw Freya out, I’d been so fuckin’ blind with fury. By the time I began to waver over my decision it was too late, the damage had been done and changing my mind would’ve looked weak to the men.

Cancelling her line of credit had been a petty, drunken decision I’d regretted as soon as I’d sobered up. If Freya used her cards now, she’d find they worked again. I’d unblocked them later the same day.

“Where is she?” I asked, my skin itching about what the answer may be.

“Her and mom have gone to Denver,” Kit told me. “Freya’s friend doesn’t go back to school until next week, so they’re stayin’ with her for a few days.”

My gut ached. It seemed that driving my girl away hurt me a lot more than it hurt her. But then again, I had a plethora of sins to feel bad about and make up for. I couldn’t blame her for fleeing. I’d let my humiliation get the better of me, and not for the first time. Luckily, my daughter was the forgiving type. I’d give her time to calm down and catch up with her when she returned.

If I’d realized what the future held that day, I’d have got off my ass and driven to Denver to make things right. It would turn out that the repercussions of my actions would stretch far and wide, and last for many years.

Colt wouldn’t return to Hambleton until months later and under circumstances that were less than ideal. As for my daughter, she’d come back for a short time but soon move away too. She’d never call Wyoming her home again.

And I only had myself to blame, which I did, for many years, because Abe turned out to be right about something.

That noose pulled tight, every day, for the rest of my life.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Freya

I loved being back in Denver. It was a special place for me; the place where I’d matured, started thinking for myself and began to grow up emotionally. Being with Abi again made everything just seem better. Maybe it was because she took my mind off Colt, whose calls were short and sporadic at best.

Mom came too. She called Tim and told him we needed some mother-daughter bonding time. So, I had my best friends at my side to help me unbreak my heart and get some perspective.

I knew I was falling apart, but I also knew I’d be okay eventually. The rational side of me recognized how I had to face what had happened and start making decisions for my future. It was a shame I couldn’t factor Colt into them, but he had no idea what his future held.

I just had to cry him out of my system. It wasn’t so different from what I’d already been doing for the last ten years. Colter Van Der Cleeve had brought me to my knees for as long as I could remember.

“What about Sex in the City?” Mom mused from my right, flicking through the TV planner.

“Yes!” Abi agreed from my left. “We could definitely benefit from Samantha Jones’s big clit energy. Whenever we get steamrollered by a man, we should ask ourselves,what would Samantha do?”

The corner of my mouth hitched for the first time in days. I mean, who wouldn’t smile at the phrase ‘big clit energy’?

Leaning forward, I pushed aside the blanket covering my knees and grabbed my hot chocolate from the coffee table. “I love Samantha. She wouldn’t let a man affect her. She wouldn’t live on a couch with her mom, Carrie, Charlotte, and Miranda.”

“Carrie would,” Mom interjected. “When Mr. Big dumped her and married Natasha, she was a mess.”

“I want to be Samantha when I grow up,” Abi muttered. “Who wants to sit on the couch and cry over a man like Big. I wanna go out, get drunk on Cosmopolitans, and fuck hot men.”

Mom aimed the remote control toward the TV and clicked a button. “Fucking hot men is what got us on this goddamned couch in the first place.”

“Hey!” I cried out.

Mom bumped my shoulder with hers playfully. “It’s okay, Freya. If I had a dollar for every time your dad made me cry on a couch, I could tell him to stick his spousal support where the sun doesn’t shine.”

My eyes slashed right. “Dad gives you spousal support?”

Mom’s voice turned steely. “It’s the least he can do. I pushed four kids out for him, and three of them were huge-headed little bastards. I put up with his club and all their bullshit for years, and he still fucked me over. The rich shit owes me.”

Abi burst out laughing. “Take him to the cleaners, girlfriend.”

---