Page 39 of Wreckage of My Life
I almost burst into tears because, for one, yes, it is about a goddamn boy. And, for two, my little brother’s got our dad’s sense of humor, and I am reminded of it more and more each day. I love it and I also hate it. I am constantly reminded of what we both lost, especially him, at such a young age.
“Since when are you making such grown-up comments, Colt?” I throw him a questioning look. “And since when do you even know what enamel on a sink is?”
“You’re trying to distract me,” he mumbles around a mouthful of organic oatmeal and strawberries. He is all about eating healthy these days, his focus solely on his possible future in professional football. “I’ll let it pass.” He shovels more food into his mouth and just about licks the bowl clean.
“Your shake’s in the fridge in the fancy bottle that will keep it at temperature until after your morning workout.”
I’ve been teasing him relentlessly about his latest habits, but I am so proud of his achievements. He’s worked so hard for everything, and he deserves all the good things coming his way.
“Are you coming to the game tonight? The scouts should be there.” The way he looks at me just now makes him look like the twelve-year-old boy who asked me who would be taking care of him after our parents died.
“Nowhere I’d rather be,” I promise. Scouts from three different college football teams are supposed to attend tonight’s game. It’s a big one, and all eyes are going to be on Colt as the superstar quarterback.
“I really hope Iowa picks me,” he mumbles, his eyes dropping to the table where he starts rubbing on an invisible spot on the edge of it.
“Is that where you want to go?”
We haven’t really talked about this any further than him wanting to play college ball. I was under the impression that he wouldn’t care where he landed as long as he got a full scholarship for it. That’s something Colton has wanted ever since he moved to the quarterback position when he was a freshman in high school.
Our parents had a college fund started for both of us. I used mine to get my degree in nursing, and I also have some left over in there to get my master’s when I’m ready to get started on it. I continued adding money to Colton’s, but he has always had other plans that didn’t involve touching that money just yet.
“I just want to be close to home,” he gives me a bashful look. “I don’t want to leave you alone here.”
My eyes instantly fill with tears. “Colt,” I press shaky fingers to my lips, willing myself not to cry. “I love you. This will work out. For both of us, okay?”
“I don’t want to be out all the way in Michigan or California. What if something happens and you need me?”
“But those are better schools, Colt. With much better teams,” I try to make him see sense. “You are the best Montana has ever seen. And you need to go to the best team that will make you an offer. Promise me,” I insist.
“Becca…”
“No,” I cut him off. “You do what’s best foryou. You hear me?”
“I will,” he nods but doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Now it’s time for you to go, mister,” I rush to the refrigerator to grab the weird concoction he insists on drinking after every workout or practice. “Make smart choices,” I shove the insulated bottle in his hand and pat him on the back just like when he was little. “And I’ll see you tonight at the game. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he smirks and snatches the bottle out of my hand.
“I know you didn’t just call mema’am,” I put my hands on my hips and eye him critically.
“I’ll drop it when you finally tell me who this asshole is that you’re hung up on,” Colt gives me a wink, then he’s out the door.
I am left in the middle of the kitchen in our parents’ house they left us, unable to move. Also, unwilling.
I really am hung up on Dylan. I don’t understand why. I move to sit at the table Colton just vacated, then take in inventory of all my feelings toward Dylan and our non-relationship. What is it about him?
He is so much older than I am, thirty-five to my twenty-three. However, so knowledgeable in bed. Oh my god, I almost feel like I need to fan myself. I had never experienced such pleasure before him, and now I’ll never find it again, I’m sure of it. I am not ready to start looking either.
On top of our age difference, he’s got a child that he just found out about. And said child is four. How does that happen? How does one not know that a woman he had sex with got pregnant and gave birth to his baby? Since he seems to want to be involved now, I can only assume that the mother never told him about the pregnancy before. Again, how exactly does that happen?
Another thing working against my attraction to Dylan is the fact that he is a biker. I don’t know much about that kind of life, but the TV show I watched upon my return from Texas educated me quite a bit on the subject. And what I learned made me feel thankful that I lived nowhere near him. What if I ended up involved with him, only for my life to be cut short when someone stuck a damn fork in my head?
“That’s just wrong,” I shiver when I get the chills from just thinking about it.
My mind goes back to Dylan’s messages where he told me that he crashed his bike and got hurt. I am worried about him, so in spite of all the things I came up with on why I should never talk to him again, I grab my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and find his name. Without giving myself time to change my mind, I hit Dial.
“Becca,” he sounds like I just woke him up.
