At Whit's End (Wells Ranch, #4)(73)

I’ve never wanted anything the way I want him to be right about this.

“Want me to try and talk to him?” Colt gently asks. “Man to man?”

I shrug. “If he’ll let you.”

With a wink that makes my chest constrict, he starts to stand. “Stay here and decompress. I got this, Mama.”

I reach out, my fingers snaring his wrist. “Colt.”

His head tips to the left, eyebrows raised to ask a question without words.

“Thank you…for everything today.”

He gives a little nod, like it’s no big deal. Like he isn’t stitching together the fractured pieces of my life. I hold my breath for his entire journey to Jonas’s room. When the music abruptly stops and Colt isn’t immediately sent away, I drag myself to the kitchen and pour the most soothing glass of wine I’ve ever had.

I’m halfway through my second glass, curled up in the corner of the couch, when Colt’s heavy footfall starts back down the stairs. In the time he was gone, the sun set, and I didn’t bother getting off the couch to turn on lights—the small bulb above the stove brightens the open floor plan just enough.

Given how long Colt was up there, they must’ve talked about something, and as carefree and childlike as Colt can be, I doubt he’d be up for goofing around tonight. He fought like hell to stay calm and collected while we were searching for Jonas, but I could see it. The fear. The worry. Then the anger when Alex was so damn nonchalant about the entire thing.

There’s an entire empty couch, but Colt makes himself at home on the small, exposed sliver of my cushion. So close he’s practically on top of me, he pulls my legs to sprawl over his warm lap the way one might cover themselves with a comforting blanket. Teasing at the hem of my pants, his fingers glide underneath to stroke my calf.

Never mind the wine, this is all I need to decompress.

“How did it go?” My gaze skips over him like a rock on a clear lake, taking in the way the shadows hug every outline and dip of his muscular arms.

“He told me to fuck off.”

I pat his chest. “That’s a little taste of parenting for you.”

“Then he asked if I’m officially Team Mom now. Apparently I ‘did him dirty’ by coming with you to look for him, whatever that means. I told him there are no teams….” He pauses, dropping his head to place a sweet kiss at the corner of my mouth. “But…just between us, I’d definitely be on your team.”

My heart flutters, cheeks heating up.

“So he talked to you?”

“He did…and, uh, I think you should talk to him, too. Honestly, that kid at the playground deserved that punch. I have half a mind to find out where he lives and punch his dad, too.”

My eyebrows raise. “Oh?”

It’s not the first time Jonas has denied being the instigator in a fight, though he always refuses to fill me in on the specifics of a situation.

“I told him it’s better to hit the kid in sneakier ways next time. Spread a rumor that he smells like cheese or sleeps surrounded by porcelain dolls. Date the girl he has a crush on. That sort of thing.”

My mouth falls open. “You didn’t actually tell him that.”

He chuckles. “No, I didn’t. I’m not that much of an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot at all,” I promise. Unable to resist, I reach out to rasp my knuckles against his short facial hair. “What did this kid do to deserve so much hostility from both of you?”

“Jonas made me promise I wouldn’t tell you what he shared with me, but I don’t actually know which one of you scares me more.” He cups the back of his neck with his free hand, the other holding tight around my ankle. “You should talk to him.”

My hand drops to my lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried more times than I can count.”

“Well, shit. This puts me in an awkward situation now.”

Shaking my head, I say, “Don’t tell me. He opened up to you, and if you believe his story, I trust you.”

He may be the one holding on to me, but I’m relying on that touch like a lifeline. Something to keep me grounded as the realization that I trust him nearly bowls me over.

I trust him.

Not just with Jonas.

With me.

Inexplicably.

Something throbs inside—I imagine it’s the crumbling of walls safeguarding my heart. And I wish I weren’t broken so I could rejoice in this moment and kiss him until nothing else in this world mattered.

“Whit.” His sultry tone makes my name sound sacred. “Let me take you on a date.”

“Today wasn’t a date?” One corner of my mouth turns up. My best attempt at lightening the mood.

“Today was…something. If you think that’s what a date is like, I have great news for you about our future dates.”

I roll my lips. “I’ve been on worse.”

“In that case, if going to the drive-in with me ends up being less fun than today, let me down gently, and I’ll never bother you again.”

Without thinking, I splay an open palm on top of my thighs, waiting for his fingers to slice between mine. Quicksand.

“Okay…” I squeeze our connected hands. “Okay. I would love to go on a proper date with you.”