At Whit's End (Wells Ranch, #4)(99)
“Mom would be pissed if she heard you say that. Violence is never the answer.” He does an awful impression of her voice.
I grip the steering wheel, turning down the main street in Wells Canyon. It’s completely void of people despite its only being nine o’clock, and Jonas stares out the passenger window with intent. Just when I think I have the key to get this kid to share everything he’s thinking, he clams up like this.
“I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. That’s damn hard to do. Kids are assholes.”
“The biggest assholes.” His free hand runs along the bottom of the passenger window, chasing droplets of condensation and stopping to draw a tiny smiley face in the fogged-up glass. “It’s not true…. Theo isn’t my boyfriend.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t…why won’t they stop saying that?”
“Because that Logan kid is so damn insecure that he takes it out on other people.” I watch him cross his thin arms over his chest, then move to wrap around Betty’s neck, pulling her into something that could be either a hug or a wrestling maneuver. “Do you want me to talk to your mom about it? Maybe she can let the school know what’s going on?”
He scrunches his nose.
“Remember when I told you about my dyslexia?” I wait for his nod. “When I was about your age, a bunch of the kids were total dicks to me because I had to sit in some empty classroom with a special teacher to practice reading a couple times a week. The second you’re different, these insecure kids latch on to it, and they get mean.”
“What did you do?”
“I spent a lot of time learning to be funny because it’s hard as hell to bully somebody who doesn’t take anything seriously. Plus, there’s power behind being able to make your entire class laugh.”
“You are pretty funny…looking.” He turns to me with a maniacal grin.
This kid is so much more than my little buddy, or my shadow on the ranch, or the son of the girl I really like. We may not share any blood, or a last name, or a history that stretches beyond the past few months. But Jonas means the world to me. He deserves people in his corner, and I’ve never been sure of anything the way I’m sure I need to be one of those people.
Whit
I race to finish the chapter in my book when Colt’s truck pulls into the driveway. I wasn’t expecting him tonight, especially when Alex should be back with Jonas any minute. The instant my eyes skim over the final line, I toss my Kindle down on the empty couch cushion beside me and watch the door.
Jonas bursts through it first, sights set on the refrigerator, as if there aren’t remnants of chocolate on his upper lip. I’m going to need a second job to pay for his eating habits pretty soon. Betty’s close behind him, equally eager to find a snack. Jonas pulls a pack of pepperoni out, pops one between his lips like he’s smoking a cigar and tosses another to the dog.
“Hey, bud. How’s it going?” I slowly rise from my comfy seat, draping the throw blanket over the back of the couch and heading into the kitchen.
When my butt hits the counter stool, the front door closes, and I look over to see Colt. When our eyes meet, he smiles and winks. “Hey, Mama.”
No matter how often I hear it, those words glide across my skin like the worn feel of his hands frisking me, tingling my inner thighs and making my core flutter.
“Hey.” My response barely comes out before I’m being interrupted.
“I saw Colt at the fair, and he said he’d give me a ride home.” Jonas answers the question I forgot to ask. “I was tired of hanging out with Dad and Fern.”
A few hours after Colt licked my pussy while I tried to explain the concept of boundaries, Alex and I had a good conversation for the first time in ages. He said he understood why Jonas and I have troubles with trusting him—whether that means anything changes or not remains to be seen. Despite my insistence that he didn’t have to do anything, Jonas suggested the two of them go for dinner so he could still hang out with his friend at the fair.
“Why were you tired of hanging out with them?” I prop my elbow on the counter, eyes flitting between Jonas and Colt. “Was dinner okay?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs, tearing a bite from his pepperoni stick. “Fern’s having a baby, so that’s all they wanted to talk about. It was boring.”
I freeze, breath lodged in my throat. “What?” I choke out.
“Fern and Dad are having a baby.”
My foolish eyes prickle, and I grasp the counter’s edge until my knuckles blanch. The ringing in my ears has my head spinning. Can’t blink. Can’t swallow. Can’t hear. A poisonous fog fills my skull. Colt and Jonas chatter, droning voices I can’t make out. Like I’m six feet underwater with no way to tell which way is up. Drowning.
Somehow, I manage to tear my shell-shocked body from the scene, moving instinctively toward the stairs. As if filled with lead, I suffer through hauling my feet from step to step, clutching the stair railing to keep from passing out.
If either of them says something, I don’t hear it.
The laundry room door shuts softly behind me, and I barely muster up the energy to turn the dryer dial before sinking to the floor. My cheek flattens across the cold tile, and I clutch my unmoving chest.