Page 78 of Overtime
“Fuck.” He kicks the car into gear and pulls out of the spot, making his way back to the main road.
We sit in silence for a minute, and I try to keep the tears from burning through but fail. So I turn my head toward the window hoping that he doesn’t see them. His mother’s words play on a loop in my head. I know once he finds his words, he’s going to tell me she’s wrong. That they barely speak, and she doesn’t speak for him, ever. But the problem is that I don’t know if she is wrong.
Colton is husband material. He has a whole house he built with a wife and a family in mind, one he built three years ago when he was even younger than he is now. He has a good guy image and if the tabloids caught pictures of us out looking like we’re a couple, I can only imagine that his publicist is hyperventilating into a brown paper bag somewhere. Probably wondering how the hell she thought she took the easy gig and got stuck with a problem like this.
And it hits me then. What Ben and Violet said about Alex. How quick he was to come get Harper and her things out of the house once they handled Drew. That Colt has all the space for a partner but instead, he bought me an apartment and studio in the city. Because he knew what I would like. Where I belong. Because I’m not wife material, but I could be mistress material. Just like his mom said.
I hear Violet’s voice in my head, shouting at me that I’m wrong. But a lifetime of experiences to the contrary has me questioning it. The fact that all I’ve ever been to him is good sex. That he thought he loved me when he was a boy but hasn’t said a word about love now that he’s grown up. That’s what boys do—fall in love with the girl they like to fuck, not necessarily the woman they want to marry. The person they can see having a home with, raising a family—that’s the woman they marry. And God knows if I’m not wife material, I’m definitely not mother material.
I swipe at the tears on my cheek. I need to pull it together because I’m spiraling out with my train of thought right now and it’s not helpful.
“I’m so sorry, Joss. I’m so embarrassed, I don’t even have words right now. I had no idea she left that message and even for her it’s fucking low as hell.”
“It’s fine, Colt. She didn’t mean for me to hear it. She’s just a mother being protective of her son. She cares about you.”
“She doesn’t care about me. She cares about what gossip the neighbors will drum up if they see pictures. She worries that they’ll whisper about her at the salon or at the back of the church. That’s all she’s ever cared about.”
“Well, she lives in a small town. That’s the kind of stuff that can get you ostracized. When are the pictures from? Do you know? Did you know about the tabloid?”
“Yes. I was planning on telling you at dinner, but then everything was going so well that I kept putting it off. Then I was going to tell you in the car on the ride back. Except my mom decided to tell you first. The pictures are from when we were out at the donor dinner with Alex and Harper. The paparazzi have been following them a lot, and I just didn’t think, you know. I was caught up in getting you home that night.”
“So you could rail me over a desk. Guess your mom was half right.” I try to make a joke, but it doesn’t land.
“It’s not funny.”
“I’m sorry, I was just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Don’t. The things she said were unforgivable.”
“Colt she’s just—”
“She’s notjustanything. She wants me to marry some nice girl from back home because she thinks they’ll convince me to leave Seattle. Raise a couple of kids and help Cody with the farm. She sees all this as temporary, and my dad isn’t much better. He at least loves football enough to understand why I left, but deep down he’ll still never forgive me for leaving the farm. Going to college to play instead of just being the local high school star. I hope you know it’s not about you—the things she said, they’re about me.”
“I know. She wants to protect you. It’s what moms do. Mine was the same. Before she died, she’s the one who told me not to trust guys. That they were fun times, but they never lasted. Wouldn’t be there when you needed them. She taught from her own trauma. Wanted to be sure I didn’t repeat her mistakes.”
“I’m sorry. About your mom, that she never had anyone she could trust.” He reaches over and puts a hand on my thigh, and I place mine on top of his, brushing over the backs of his knuckles with my fingers.
“Me too. I wish she’d lived longer. I keep thinking maybe if she’d met someone, had some love before things got so hard for her… Oh god. Okay. I’m going to start blubbering, and we don’t need that. Anyway, what I’m saying is, it’s fine. She means well.”
“I don’t care what she means, Joss. No one fucking talks about you like that. Not her, not you, not anyone. You are the love of my fucking life and you’re just a mind-blowingly amazing person. You just came in here and pretty much singlehandedly helped Harper figure out how to save her museum and help a bunch of other museums and organizations in the process. You managed to get Ben and Violet to finally see eye to eye all those years ago, and I don’t know what any of us would do without them, let alone without you. I don’t want to hear a single bad fucking word about you. Not even from you.”
My heart constricts in my chest, tightening as I try to process what he’s said with his mother’s voice still in my head. All my reasons for why I don’t feel worthy of someone like him resurfacing, drowning me and stealing my words. Afraid anything I say will be the wrong thing, so I just stay silent.
He pulls into a random parking lot and puts the car in park. I glance around and raise an eyebrow.
“Fuck…” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I rented a suite at a hotel down here. I made that joke about the house and the hotel. You showing me what was better. I thought it would be fun to get room service dessert, and I had some other plans. Plus if we stayed down here, we could stay in bed an extra hour because it’s so much closer to the stadium than my house. And I know I won’t see you for long after since you have to catch your flight early in the morning.”
My heart twists even tighter at how much he has thought it through.
“But thanks to what she just called you, I don’t want to take you there now. So now I’m just trying to come up with a new plan.”
“We can still go to the hotel.”
“No. I’m too fucking pissed off.”
“Okay… then you can just take me back to Ben and Violet’s. I’ve got some packing up to do anyways so that I can enjoy the game tomorrow without worrying. I’ll still see you after and we can celebrate your win.”
I make up a stupid excuse that’s only halfway based on truth because it’s obvious neither of us is in the mood anymore. It’s all become way too awkward and complicated. There’s no way I can confess my feelings to him now. And now he’s so focused on being pissed off at his family, there’s no way either of us can get out of our head’s enough to enjoy anything.
