Page 127 of Freeing Denver
My throat thickens. “Wyatt wasn’t my fault.”
“You pulled the trigger!” His voice booms through the warehouse. “You’re smart enough to know Ranger was manipulating you, but you did it anyway. He was my cousin. Hewas a good guy. He deserved so much more than you could ever give him.”
“That’s enough,” Colt says. “Del, what do you want to do?”
Another choice. Another life in my hands.
“What?” Lewis asks, his laugh bitter. “You’re going to kill another Ledger? That’ll be Wyatt, Adam, Wyatt’s mom, and me.”
“Fuck you, Lewis,” Ronan says. “You had more than a year with Denver. You know she had no fucking choice. If you couldn’t see that, it’s on you.”
Lewis looks between Ronan and me, and the barrel of his gun is pressed to my forehead so quickly that I don’t even have time to blink. Taf shouts, and Colt darts forward, but Lewis pulls back the hammer.
And as the seconds slow, he focuses on me.
He’s breathing fast, perspiration shining across his forehead.
But even now, I can only see my friend. The nights we shared. How he made me laugh. His hand on my lower back. His reassurance in my ear. It was lies, but it felt so real. It all did.
I so desperately want to believe he won’t do this.
Tears fill my eyes, our gazes locked.
And he pulls the trigger.
The click is loud.
The bullets removed by me hours ago.
Because even though I wanted Kitrick to be wrong, I couldn’t take the chance.
Colt raises his own gun, and the shot bangs through the still air. I close my eyes before I can witness the death of a man I thought I could trust.
My eyes are still closed when Colt pulls me to him and walks me away. I trust him to guide me, to keep me safe from stumbling, because I can’t look at any of it—Lewis’s body, the sympathy of the others.
In the back of the car, Colt keeps me close. He kisses my cheek and whispers all the right things, but it doesn’t ease the agony of more loss.
Maybe nothing ever will.
We’re in bed,Holly between us, Wesson curled up at the end. This is what I need after such an awful day—we came home, and Holly ran to the door to hug my legs. She told me she missed me, said she needed help with homework, and only I could do it. My responsibilities took me away from what I’d lost, and for a few hours, I allowed myself to focus on her and forget.
Colt told Helena and Antonia. Helena broke down in tears, insisting it must have been a mistake. If only it were.
Now, Holly is asleep, andBeauty and the Beastis still playing, and the tears want to fall so desperately that my throat aches from holding them back.
“I’m sorry,” Colt whispers.
I force a smile. “It isn’t your fault.”
“I’ll always be sorry when you’re in pain, regardless of why.”
I grit my teeth, tears burning my eyes. “Don’t make me cry; I won’t stop.”
Colt climbs out of bed, comes to my side, and takes my hand. He walks me to the balcony doors, unlocks them, and we step into the cold. The wooden decking isn’t too chilly, and Colt leaves the door ajar so the music of the movie drifts out to us.
“Dance with me,” he says quietly, and pulls me close.
I swallow hard. “I don’t feel like dancing.”
