Page 11 of Colt
I pause, my fork midway between the plate and my mouth. I don’t want to tell him that he’s sexy. The problem is, heissexy. It doesn’t matter that he’s bedbound. Doesn’t matter that he’s hurt. Or that he might be full of fluids. He’s an attractive man. He exudes it. In a way that is theoretical to me, and not specifically personal. He’s just aesthetically, and arguably handsome, and on top of that he’s got that charisma that makes people stop and look at him no matter what they’re doing.
“Somehow, I have a feeling you’ll have seduced a hospital employee before you get out of here.”
He barks a laugh, and my heart clenches tight. It’s the closest thing to a compliment I could give him without making it personal to me, or what I think of him. But now I’m forced to imagine him gripping a nurse by the hips and pulling her into bed and –
Nope. Don’t like that. I hate it. Thanks. No more imagining Colt getting it on with somebody whilst still bound to his hospital bed. Because if anyone could. He could. And I find that bothersome. Even if I shouldn’t. Well, I know I shouldn’t. I should be all for him getting his healing no matter how he finds it. Sexual healing included. But it feels gross, and I don’t like it.
“I don’t know that I feel inclined toward seduction at the moment,” he says.
“Well, you deserve it,” I say. “As a little treat.”
“I would like to go back in time as a little treat and not be dealing with this.” He lets his head fall back on the pillow, a rueful expression on his face. “Sorry. That probably is the morphine talking. Self-pity really isn’t my jam, normally.”
“I think you’re allowed to have a little bit of self-pity,” I say.
My chest feels tight. This whole thing has just been… Awful. Terrible.
“I guess I’m going to be home for a while.”
His voice is rough now.
“Yeah.”
“We’ll be neighbors again.”
I rent a house from my mom in town, where I work at a jewelry store, while going to school for nursing. Colt lives two doors down from me, but generally, he’s not there. It’s essentially where he keeps his stuff. I know that eventually, he plans on buying a ranch. When he settles down and has time to run it. At the moment, competing in the rodeo, he’s gone too much. He helps my dad with his ranch, but he won’t even be able to do that.
My throat gets tight all over again. My emotions are decidedly all over the place, and I need to get a grip. Colt is the one who’s injured. He’s the one who’s entitled to difficult feelings. I need to get over myself.
“Yeah. Well. Once you get out of here.” That wasn’t all that encouraging. “Sorry. Hopefully it won’t be very long. I mean… You’re stable now.”
He laughs. “Stable. Yeah. I feel really stable.”
“Colt…”
“It’s fine. It’s fine. Because… There are all kinds of things in life you don’t choose. But you have to live with them anyway. Right?”
I feel like he’s actually asking me.
“Well. Yes.”
I don’t feel like I’m the right person to give him insight into anything.
“So, I just have to deal with this.”
“Yeah.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “You get to be mad about it.”
He seems to think about that for a long moment. “Not so mad I throw myself on the ground and get a concussion.”
I give him a hard stare. “You already had one of those.”
“Did you just want to match me? You could have just bought us bracelets. A friendship-concussion is a little over the top.”
“We’re not friends.”
Instantly, I regret it. I regret that those words came out of my mouth. I regret that they were so ready, there on the tip of my tongue, that insane self-defense that I always have to do when I feel like I’m getting too close to him. Like I’m a scared, solo traveler in a hotel room, desperately piling up furniture in front of the door to keep it from being opened.
There’s a door with Colt that I really want to keep closed. That I need to keep closed.
