Page 115 of Freeing Denver
And I know now that the only person who keeps me alive is me.
My love for Ranger came from my inability to see my worth.
Now, I love myself enough to love Colt, too.
I lift my chin, our eyes locked, my words firm. “I’d rather share his grave than your bed.”
The moment shatters, and so does he. I take no pleasure in it. His pain just is, and so is mine.
“Goodbye, little bird.”
I’m totally still as he walks away. The door opens, it closes, and the room is plunged into silence.
I stare at the carpet, basking in the quiet for a moment, and when I lift my gaze, Colt is in the doorway. His head is tilted, dark blue eyes filled with concern and curiosity—with love. Genuine, selfless love.
I remove the space between us, cup his face, and kiss him. He pulls me close, and those seconds are a reminder of why I fought for us—why I put aside a festering need for revenge for this man. Why I love him.
“He’s gone,” I say, and he knows I don’t mean he’s left. Ranger isgone. Given up. Still hateful and loving me in all the wrong ways, but gone.
That toxic part of my life has been cut out of me.
“I love you,” Colt says.
I smile, a real smile, but it quickly descends into a frown when something crunches. We both glance over at the sliding wooden doors that clearly neither of us had heard open. Taf, JJ, Charlie, and Lewis are all standing there. JJ is eating cereal.
“Can we help you?” Colt asks.
They all shake their heads and grin.
“Just beautiful, isn’t it?” Charlie says, taking a handful of cereal from JJ’s bowl and shoving it into his mouth. “Love and shit. So, when are you two fucking off to England?”
I fail to bite back a laugh. “Sooner rather than later, if you all keep staring.”
“I told them not to,” Sandy says as she appears and snatches the bowl from JJ. He scowls at her. Charlie rests his forearm on her head, and she seems undeterred by the familiarity.
I blink at her. “Hey, Sandy.”
“Hey, Red,” she says. “How are you? I’m part of the gang now.”
“The worst part of it,” Taf says.
Charlie smacks him up the back of the head. “Show some respect.”
Colt slides his arm around my waist. “We have a lot to catch you up on, Del. Hungry?”
My stomach isclose to bursting it’s so full, but I grab another sandwich off the platter that’s been laid out on the coffee table. Sandy is sitting cross-legged on the other couch, Charlie beside her, and I already know he’s protective of her. He’s stuck by her the entire afternoon, correcting her stories when she exaggerates and boasting about how much she’s learned in the few weeks since Colt and Alistair bumped into her by chance, and it led to them finding me.
“So the doc is all, ‘please, I don’t know anything else,’” Sandy says. “So I take the screwdriver, right? And I’m all, ‘keep lying, see where it gets you!’ And she’s sobbing, and it’ssofunny?—”
“Maybe ease off on the torture talk,” Colt says as he hands me another bottle of electrolytes and takes the seat next to me again. I called Sebastian to check on him, and he gave me strict instructions to eat, drink, and get an appointment with my doctor as soon as possible. When I reminded him he’d been shot and to focus on himself, he pointed out that this is the third time he’s taken a bullet, and he’s getting used to the pain. Still, Coltabsorbed every word of advice and has been closely watching me every time I try to turn down food or drink.
“Says the king of torturing people,” Sandy says, then yelps and looks at Charlie. “Did you just pinch me?”
I glance at Colt. “King of torturing people?”
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Not a conversation we need to have now.” He takes the bottle of electrolytes from me and takes a mouthful. “Or ever.”
“I think we do,” I say, watching him. “Tell me.”
