Page 25 of Freeing Denver
“What are you doing?” Alistair calls out after me.
“I’m not waiting!” I shout back as I break out into a run. Horns blare as I dart across the street, falling onto hoods of taxis, bikes almost colliding with me. I make it to the sidewalk and skid, squeaking as I almost smack into a store wall.
A hand grips mine and yanks me forward. “You’re slow for an actual runner.”
“It’s busy!” I cling to Alistair’s hand as we sprint through the streets, snow melting on my cheeks as he drags me down an alley. “Where are we going?”
“Shortcut!”
I’m glad I wore my sneakers for the long flight I thought we’d be taking, but they’re definitely not designed for running through snow. Alistair is in dress shoes, so a few times he slides, almost losing his grip on me as I squeal and try to keep us on our feet.
When our street comes into view, he releases my hand and I speed ahead, almost missing the steps to the house as I launch myself up them and throw open the door.
Snow follows me in as I call out. “Colt!” I take the stairs two at a time, and his door is already open.
But his bed is empty. Ronan is still sleeping in the one beside it, machines beeping lazily as they keep him breathing.
“Colt?” I check every room before going back down the stairs. The door is still open, flurries of snow getting heavier. “Colt, where are you?”
Antonia is at the end of the hall. She smiles and gestures at the living room, stepping back as I rush past her.
Tears blur the scene in front of me, and I quickly blink them away, not wanting to miss a second of what I’m witnessing.
Lying on the couch, Holly sleeping in his arms, is Colt.
In a gray T-shirt and sweats, he sits in the corner of the U-shaped couch, long legs stretched in front of him, half covered by a blanket. Holly is sprawled on his chest, one small hand gripping his T-shirt, as if she’s afraid he might disappear.
It might be the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen, and my legs tremble as Colt locks his eyes on me and smiles. A smile I thought I might never see again.
“You’re awake,” I whisper, kneeling in front of him.
He places his hand on my cheek, his palm warm against my chilled skin, and I’d close my eyes to absorb the feeling if I weren’t so afraid he’d be gone when I opened them again. “I am.” His voice is rough, raw, likely from the tube that’s been in his throat.
Tears flow down my cheeks, and I lean over Holly to kiss him. He cups the back of my head as he holds the kiss for longer, and there’s no describing the way it makes me feel. My heart opens, and the weight of everything I’ve carried is taken away.
“I love you,” I sob. “I love you so much.”
He presses his forehead to mine, and his voice shakes. “I love you.”
Quick footsteps approach, and Alistair appears in the doorway. He’s breathless and grinning. “I’ve never been happier to see your fucking face.”
Colt laughs quietly. “I’ve never been happier to be sat up.” He holds his arm out to me, and I slip off my shoes and take off my coat, curling up on his other side. Holly sleeps soundly against his chest, her face toward me. Her lashes are wet from tears.
“She was okay, seeing you?” I whisper.
Colt nods. “She cried. She was angry. But I guess that’s expected.”
“I’ll make us all a tea,” Antonia says, and she squeezes Colt’s shoulder as she passes. Alistair offers to help and follows her into the kitchen.
Colt gazes down at me and brushes my hair back. “A week.”
“Nine days,” I whisper, fresh tears filling my eyes. “Almost ten.”
Colt pulls my mouth back to his. “But I’m back now.”
Relief sweeps through me, and I return the kiss before cuddling into him again, my other hand stroking Holly’s hair.
I’ve dreamed of this moment. Prayed for it. Of us all together again.
