With a nod—because what other response am I supposed to give?—I stumble the rest of the way to my car, get in and drive off, too distracted to even know which way leads back to the gate.
Colt’s not here. I just met my in-laws in the worst possible circumstances. And I have no idea how to fix any of it.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Colt
My phone rings for the thousandth time since I got to Brendan’s house an hour ago. First it was Alexis calling over and over and over again but not leaving messages. Then she started sending me texts begging me to call.
Now it’s my mother.
Exhausted, heartsick, and not thinking straight, I smash my thumb on the green button to take the call. “What?” I growl into the phone.
“Now, Colt, I know you must be upset, but that’s no way to greet your mother.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I force myself to take deep breaths rather than screaming and chucking my phone across the room.
I’ll have to talk to Alexis eventually, if for no other reason than to figure out what to do about our remaining concerts. Though if she’s taking a contract that requires her to divorce me, she probably won’t be allowed to perform with me, so I’ll need to contact everyone to have them remove her from the billing and give them the option to back out if they don’t want just me.
Sighing, I consider just hanging up on my mom, but part of me wants to know what she’s calling about. “It’s been a shit day, Mom, so can you get to the point with a minimum of reprimands about my tone or choice of words?”
She sniffs. “I was just wanting to let you know that we met your little wife today.”
God, I hate that she keeps referring to Alexis that way. Like she doesn’t think anything between us is real or serious.
And I don’t know if it pisses me off more because once upon a time that was true or because with the stroke of a pen this afternoon, it all ended.
But then the actual meaning of her words, not just the dig, penetrates my mental processes. “I’m sorry, did you just say you met Alexis today?”
“Yes.” She lets out an exaggerated sigh. “She came to the house looking for you. I’m not even sure how she got in, because she didn’t ring through from the gate. Did you give her the code?”
“Why would I do that?” The question is pure bewilderment. My goal was to keep Alexis as far away from my toxic mother’s presence as possible for as long as possible. I would never have sent her into the snake pit alone. So why in the world would I have given her the gate code?
Another sniff. “I’ll have to speak to security then. People shouldn’t be able to just get in like that.”
“What did she want?” I ask, my tone sharp enough to cut granite, hoping to snap her out of whatever tirade about lax security she’s about to launch into. I don’t have the time or energy to deal with that right now.
“Like I said, she came looking for you. Which means she doesn’t know where you are. Trouble in paradise?”
I can’t. I absolutely cannot. Without a word, I hang up the phone. I know I’ll hear about it later, but I don’t care right now. I can’t deal with my mother on top of everything else.
When my phone starts ringing immediately, I decline the call and power down my phone. I’m done. One hundred percent done. I just want to climb into this bed that Lauren assured me had fresh sheets on it and not wake up for a week. Because maybe then life will make sense again. Or at least I’ll have the wherewithal to deal with how fucked up it’s become in the course of one afternoon.
I can’t do that, though, for a lot of reasons. Not least of which being the fact that I do need to talk to Alexis sooner rather than later. There are details that have to be worked out. I just …
Not yet. It’s too raw. Too new. Too painful. I’m still bleeding from a wound that hasn’t had the chance to start scabbing over, and this is me putting pressure on the arterial bleed until I can stitch it shut.
A soft tap sounds at the door, and I don’t know if it’s been five minutes or five hours since I turned off my phone. Probably somewhere in between.
Blinking, I grunt out a gruff, “Come in.”
Lauren’s face pokes around the door, sympathy radiating from her. I don’t want it, though. I want to be alone with my pain, a wounded bear hiding in a cave. I don’t want sympathy or pity or comfort.
I want Alexis.
But that’s impossible.
“How are you doing?” she asks softly.
I grunt again. A nonresponse.
“Yeah. I kinda figured. What’s your preferred method of dealing with heartbreak? Ice cream? Liquor? Both? We could do like spiked root beer floats.” She gets a contemplative look on her face like she’s working out her own recipe for that in her head. “That actually sounds really, really good,” she murmurs, confirming that she’s distracted herself with her own comfort food suggestions.
“I’m fine, Lauren. Thanks for trying. But I just want to be left alone.”
She gives me what Brendan calls her ball-busting look, and my own balls retract inside my body in self-defense. “Cut the shit, Colt. If you really wanted to just be alone, you could’ve gone to a hotel. Instead you called your brother and drove up here. You need people who care about you nearby. There’s nothing wrong with that. And I know that both of your brothers like to try to drown their problems, so I’m assuming you do too, I just don’t know your liquor of choice. So if you really want me out of your hair, tell me, I’ll get it for you, and you can drink yourself into oblivion all by yourself. But one of us will be checking in on you to make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit or give yourself alcohol poisoning. Got it?”
I almost want to salute her, but I resist the urge. “Yes, ma’am,” I say instead.
“That’s right you yes, ma’am me.” She crosses her arms. “Vodka? Tequila? Whiskey?”
“Vodka.”
She nods once and disappears, leaving the door cracked behind her. And when she returns, she has Brendan in tow, carrying three shot glasses. She unscrews the cap of top-shelf vodka and pours out three shots and passes them around. I knock mine back without ceremony, and Lauren refills it without judgment.
And I have to admit, at least to myself, that she’s right. I don’t exactly want to be alone. I want to be near people who care about me. But like this, with no demands, just support and love.
At least that’s what I think until Brendan opens his big fucking mouth. “Mom called.”
Groaning, I slump back in the armchair I’ve been occupying since I got here. “I know. She called me too.”
He laughs without humor. “Oh, I’m aware. She was ranting about how you hung up on her for close to fifteen minutes. I’m supposed to get you to call her and apologize.”
I crack one eye open in a baleful glare. “Not happening.”
He holds up his hands, palms out. “I figured. And I told her as much, but also promised to pass along the message.” He drains his shot glass and snags the bottle from Lauren to refill it.
“Consider it passed.” I hold out my shot glass for a refill as well. He obliges, and we clink glasses before draining them.