“I’m sorry.”
He framed her face with his hands and tilted it back so he could see her. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
He stepped back and dragged his hands over his hair. “You can’t do that, Gretchen. You can’t just take off.”
“It’s what I do. You said so yourself, remember?”
He spared a single glance for Jack. “I’m taking her home.”
Gretchen slipped Jack’s coat off her shoulders. “This is his.”
Colton took it from her and handed it unceremoniously to Jack. Then his hand was on her back and steering her back to the path.
Jack tried to follow. “Gretchen . . .”
Colton stopped and whipped around. With a single point and a glare, he ended Jack’s pursuit. “Jack, I think you’re a good person, the only good person in this whole fucking family besides Gretchen. But right now, I don’t want to hear a single goddamn word from any of you.”
They left him standing there in the halo of the moonlight, his coat hanging limply from his fingers, an apology hanging uselessly on his lips.
Colton guided her over the knotted roots and the jagged sticks, the path now alight from his headlights. His car was still running. She let him open her door and help her inside. She even let him help her with her seat belt. And when he was done, he paused to cup her face once again before kissing her sweetly.
“Let’s go home,” he said.
They didn’t speak during the drive, but he kept one hand wrapped around hers on the console between them, even when he stopped at his gate to punch in the security code. He didn’t let go until they were parked in front of his house.
Through the front windows, the Christmas tree glowed with welcome, but the rest of the house appeared dark. “I don’t want to wake the kids up,” she said when he opened her door.
“We won’t.” He took her hand to help her from the car. “And even if we do, they’ll go back to sleep.”
The front door opened as they walked up the porch. His mother stepped out, a robe wrapped around her body and a worried glaze in her eyes. “I’ve been stress baking,” she said, an attempt at humor that fell flat from the catch in her voice.
“I’m sorry,” Gretchen said. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”
“Nonsense.” His mother pulled her into an embrace. She smelled like vanilla and chocolate.
Colton followed them inside, softly shutting the door behind them. Gretchen glanced back at him, and he just smiled as his mother led her toward the kitchen. “I’ll be right there.”
His mother’s arm was tight around her shoulders. “I have cookies fresh from the oven. It doesn’t solve anything, but it certainly doesn’t hurt either.”
Gretchen managed a soft laugh for her benefit.
“Are you hungry for anything else? I can heat up some stew or—”
“I’m okay. But thank you. I’m sorry I kept you awake. I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”
The look on her face was a cross between offended and sympathetic. “Of course I waited up.” She filled a plate with chocolate chip cookies, still so warm that a spiral of steam wafted up. “Sit,” she said, nodding at one of the island stools. “I’ll get you some milk.”
Gretchen had no appetite for anything, but she sat anyway. She smiled in thanks when Mary set a glass of milk in front of her. Colton walked up behind her and set his hands on her shoulders. “You’re still cold,” he said, sliding his hands down to her bare arms.
“Are you hungry, honey?” Mary asked him. “I can make something for you too.”
“No, thanks. I just want to get her to bed.”
“Good idea. You both must be exhausted.”
Colton bent and kissed the top of her head as he squeezed her arms. “Ready?”
Embarrassment flooded her limbs to have him discuss their sleeping arrangements so openly with his mother. Which was dumb. They were adults. But it was so foreign—this unconditional acceptance as part of the family.
Gretchen stood up. His mom hugged her once again. “I’ll make a big breakfast in the morning. Everything will look better after some sleep.”
Colton’s hand settled on her back and led her away. The upstairs was dark and silent, but Gretchen wondered if his sister, dad, and brother were all lying awake and listening.
Colton flipped on the overhead lights in his bedroom before quietly shutting the door.
“I don’t suppose you have an extra toothbrush?”