Page 38 of Warrior

Lyric

Iexpected Colt to go back in the little box I made for him ten years ago and stay stashed away, maybe even listen to me when I told him I was after closure. The first night we got back, I took the easy way out and avoided him, avoided the other club members that were here and all their questions. Exhaustion hit me fast and I passed out on the bed. My body had depleted its energy, but my brain was active, like it knew whose house I was in. I dreamt all night that Colt and I were back in high school and about the night he asked me to be his girlfriend in front of that stupid tree. Jordan made multiple appearances, never saying anything, just watching what I was dreaming, interest clear on his face.

It was unsettling, and things aren’t much better in the morning.

I come down the stairs, hoping for a reprieve, only to find my favorite breakfast once again waiting for me on the table, along with a vase of sunflowers and a card. My fingers shake as I open the flap and read the few words written in Colt’s messy scrawl.

Sunflowers mean adoration and loyalty. Lyric, I’ve always admired you, your strength and the way you radiate kindness to everyone around you. I’m here for you always.

Love, Colt

I don’t have it in me to throw it away, but I also can’t confront him. It’s like nothing I do to push Colt away fazes him.

The next week moves in much of the same way. He suddenly has my phone number. The “good morning, beautiful” texts start flowing in on the mornings he isn’t at the house but is checking in with the club, and every night, he asks me to eat dinner with him. Dinner that he cooks and never allows me to help with. He always asks what I like, and he remembers the small things about the foods I really didn’t like. Then I have to watch him move around the kitchen looking way better than he should to me in sweatpants and a black T-shirt that stretches perfectly over his chest and arms. Arms that hold a few extra tattoos since high school.

And the damn freezer. The freezer is stocked with so much ice cream of all different flavors. When I ask him why we need so much, he just chuckles and responds that different moods require different types of ice cream. Those were my words from many years ago and he remembers them. It's all sickly charming.

The one thing that gets me the most is how open he is. Anything I throw at him, he takes in stride. He eats up the distance between us that I keep trying to erect. Colt is the first to initiate heavy conversation, even bringing up our pain from the past. He apologized, but I can’t forget about it. Instead of getting mad and fighting with me about it, he’s patient. Colt puts himself out there, apologizing, even when he sometimes doesn’t need to. I’ve learned over the past week about his life since he left, thefriends he lost, and he’s told me more about the experience of finding the club.

When we were young, I felt like I knew who Colt was, but now Colt is showing me the man he is. Every night I go to bed mad at myself for liking it, and feeling sick to my stomach that I am so torn up about it.

Flowers arrive again the next week at breakfast with another card and explanation. This time it's a vase of bright pink and white lilies.

Lilies. A new beginning.

Love, Colt

By that Friday, I cave and reach out to Camryn, hoping she can be my voice of reason. I can hear her hesitancy on the phone. “I mean, Lyric, think about it. All this time has passed, you both are in different places in your lives, and your paths just happened to cross. Maybe this is how it was supposed to be.”

“Cam, you know how bad I was. For a year, it felt like my life spiraled out of control. He hurt me more than anyone ever has,” I argue, reminding her and myself.

“He didn’t actually cheat on you, though,” she points out.

I huff into the phone. “He let me believe he did, which is the same as lying. If he had told me why he didn’t want to go, I would have understood. If he still wanted to break up, I think it would have been easier at least knowing why.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s the part you’re missing. I don’t think he broke up with you because he didn’t want you but because of the reason he decided to lie about Alabama. Honestly, girl, I think things happened the way they did for a reason,” she argues.

“It shouldn't hurt as much this many years later. I just want to let it all go.”

Cam hums under her breath. “Lyric, it hurts because you loved him. He loved you too. He was a stupid eighteen-year-old boy who made a terrible decision.”

“I know, and I forgave him. I let that part of things go but I can’t stop the pain. I can't just pick right up and try a new relationship? I’m not the same girl anymore.”

“And hopefully he isn’t the same guy. Again, it's been ten years. You both are entirely different people and in different places in your lives. You are practically strangers, except for your history. So maybe get to know the new Colt. You forgave the young idiot version of him. Maybe the older and more mature Colt won’t hurt you. You’ll never know unless you try. You’re both miserable right now ignoring what is between you,” she reasons, and I feel tears spring to my eyes.

By the time we hang up, I’m even more confused. More times than I care to think about my finger hovers over my momma’s number, but I always back down. I don’t think she will understand, and part of me believes she doesn’t like Colt after what happened. Lord knows my daddy won’t be forgiving him in this lifetime. Plus, if I have to explain to them how I’ve reconnected with Colt, then I have to tell them that Lukas found me and I don’t want to worry them more than they already do.

The front door opens downstairs and Colt yells that he’s home. Once again, my heart leaps with how domestic this feels. I hear him turn on the sink, most likely washing grease from his hands. Taking a deep breath, I make my way down the stairs. I refuse to cower, so even when our interactions are awkward, I blame him. He’s the one keeping me here at his house where we’re in constant close proximity. At the clubhouse, there would have been other rooms to go to or other people around to talk to. I should leave and just go back before I crumble completely.

My feet reach the main floor and the second my eyes land on Colt, I’m instantly irritated. The man isn’t wearing a shirt, again, and his jeans are hanging low enough on his hips that I can see the top of the Adonis belt he’s hiding. My fingers tingle, wanting to touch him. It's not fair that he looks this good. It's not fair that all of this time I could have had all of this, this life with him, if he hadn’t broken my heart.

“I need to get out of here. I want to go to the clubhouse. I can’t be here with you anymore,” I snap, and his eyes instantly jump to mine. My cheeks flame red while I try to keep my focus on his face and not on his bare chest.

“Baby, I already explained why it's not a good idea,” he responds, and his calm voice makes me feel even more frustrated and hot. I can feel the skin on my chest burning from need and the crackling energy around us that has been building for weeks.

“Stop calling me baby. I don’t like it,” I remind him again, and all I get in return is a deep chuckle.

“Yes, you do,” he throws back, and sets down a dirty towel on the table.

---