Page 55 of Colt

I looked up at Colt; his expression hadn’t changed, but his eyes had frozen to chips of blue ice. His hard stare promised retribution.

The receptionist’s shoulders sagged. “Names?”

“Colt Van Der Cleeve and Freya Stone.” His tone was rigid and unbending, like steel.

“Ed’s popular today. You’re the second couple here for him. Some big dude with a buzz cut and a guy with ink on his neck.” He pointed behind us, “Through that door, turn right, walk around the side of the building, and you’re there.”

Shit.

It sounded like Atlas and Cash were here.

Colt and I shot each other a nervous glance before he gave the receptionist a chin lift, grabbed my elbow, and tugged me toward the door.

I wanted to pull away, argue, bite, scratch, and show him he wasn’t my keeper, but I knew I’d already pissed him off. Colt’s pet peeve was people berating him in public. Maybe I’d just crossed a line, but I was so sick of his mood swings.

I was being bratty, but I couldn’t help myself. This was the second time in as many days Colt had blown hot and cold on me. I needed to set boundaries, or he’d think he could get away with it all the time.

We exited the door, but instead of turning right, Colt pulled me left, back toward the parking lot.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, my voice pitchy. Colt didn’t often lose his shit, but on the rare occasions he did, he blew like Vesuvius. The last thing I wanted was to be the object of his wrath.

He grabbed my shoulders and backed me into the wall. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” he gritted out.

Our eyes locked, and my heart fluttered, but I didn’t want it to. My head was all over the place, and so were my emotions.

“I don’t know where I stand with you,” I whispered. “Earlier, we were having fun. Then, you get inside your own head, and your mood changes. You don’t communicate.”

His hands framed my face, and the heat of his body hit mine. “I’ll work on it.”

I searched his eyes for signs of duplicity. “I love being around you, but sometimes it feels like I have to walk on eggshells, and I don’t know how to get through to you.”

He leaned down, touching my forehead with his. “I just overthink things sometimes.”

“You can’t plan everything,” I whispered, my shoulders slumping. “Things will come at us from left field sometimes. I know we’re gonna get shit from the club, but I’m willing to deal with it because being with you is worth it. If my dad never spoke to me again, I’d understand. It won’t be easy, but I’ll cope as long as I’ve got you.”

Colt’s brow furrowed. “Sometimes, I think you’ll deal better than me. I’m gonna miss the club. They’re the only people who’ve ever been a family to me.”

My heart cracked inside my chest, but I jutted my chin up. I wouldn’t make him choose me, even after our time together. I only wanted him to be happy, “You don’t have to leave. We can stop this now if it’s too much.”

“No!” He stepped back. “That’s not what I want. I just don’t want you to lose your family. I know from experience how fucking cool they are.”

“My dad will come around. Maybe my brothers will be shocked, but I think they’ll be okay. The ol’ ladies will support us. I know some of the older members won’t like it, but I don’t live my life for them.”

He scraped a hand down his face. “I hate the sneaking around too. My father’s a fuckin’ liar and a cheat. Always swore I wouldn’t be like him, and here I am, lying to the man who’s been a better father to me than my own.”

A lump formed in my throat.

I’d never truly thought how us being together would affect Colt. After he told me about his family, I got it. He’d tried to be honorable all his life, except now it was all for nothing because he felt he was betraying the club.

“Do you want to stop?” I asked, pain twisting my chest. “We can pick it up later if you decide to leave the MC.”

He shook his head. “I am leaving, and no, we’re not stopping this. We’ll get Thanksgiving and the holidays outta the way and come clean.”

My eyes darted between his. “Are you sure?”

He jerked a nod. “Atlas and Cash are here. We’ll have to be careful. That big fucker doesn’t miss a trick.”

I winced. “We better get used to it.”

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