Driven Collection

by K. Bromberg

  “Nope. You wanna hang with the big boys—get plastered like they do—then it’s time to wake up and take it like a man.” From my vantage point in the hallway I watch Colton prop his back against the wall and get comfortable before he digs into the brown paper bag. I hear the crack of the beer can opening and Shane immediately sits up in bed, and looks at Colton like he’s lost it.

  “Are you fucking crazy?” Shane croaks in a panicked voice.

  “Yep,” Colton says as he looks over at Shane and grins. He takes a sip of the beer and then holds it out to Shane. “Sure as hell am. Drink up, son.”

  “No way!” Shane says as he backs away from the can like it’s on fire. “You can’t give me a beer!”

  Colton raises his eyebrows. “I believe I just did. Now quit using that as an excuse. You were grown up enough to chug it down last night, right? So it’s time to remind you just why you liked it so much.” Colton shoves the beer back at him. “C’mon, take a drink. I dare you.”

  “What the—”

  “Drink!” Colton pressures him. “What? You’re cool enough to drink with your friends but not me?”

  “It’s going to make me puke!”

  “Now you’re catching on!” Colton says with a smirk as he reaches with his free hand back into the bag and grabs another beer. “I’ve got five more here for ya when you finish this one.”

  Shane’s eyes grow huge and his face pales when Colton’s words hit him. “No way! I’m going to throw up.”

  “Good,” Colton says as he gets in close to Shane’s face. “Drink this,” he says. “I want you to remember just how good it tastes coming back up the second time around. The next time your buddies push you to drink or you want to drink to look cool for the ladies … I want you to remember how fucking cool you look bent over the toilet throwing this back up because I guarantee you from experience, it’s not a pretty sight.” Colton backs away from him and returns to his position against the wall, a smug smile on his face. He leans his head back but angles his eyes over to watch Shane. “You sure you don’t want this beer? Don’t want to remember what it tastes like?”

  Shane shakes his head, a little shocked at the verbal lashing his idol just gave him, as am I.

  When Colton speaks next, his voice is eerily calm. “Now that I’ve got your attention, a few ground rules, shall we?” He doesn’t wait for Shane to respond. “How’d you get home last night, Shane?”

  The question surprises me, just as it does Shane. “Davey brought me home.”

  “Did Davey drink last night too?” The quiet calm in Colton’s voice has Shane averting his gaze, which makes my heart sink.

  “He had a few.” I can hear the shame in Shane’s voice; he knows it was wrong.

  “Eeeehhh! Wrong answer!” Colton says as he turns his head to look at him again. “You wanna be stupid and get drunk? That’s one thing I can get. You want to step in a car and let someone else drive you who’s drunk—because let’s face it you were shit-faced so how do you know how many Davey had—that’s something I won’t tolerate! You have way too many people who love you in this house. Care about you, Shane—Ry, the boys, me—we don’t want something to happen to you. So let me rephrase the question, okay? I’m not going to ask you if you’re going to get drunk again because then you’ll have to lie to me. Here’s my question: Are you going to get in a car with another person who’s been drinking?”

  Shane swallows loudly and shakes his head no. When Colton just stares at him, he says aloud, “No.”

  “Good! Now we’re getting somewhere …” Colton says, pounding his hand against the wall loudly that has Shane jumping and grabbing his head, while Colton belts out a laugh. “You sure you don’t want this beer?” He offers again to a frantic shake of Shane’s head. “I love a smart kid so listen up, I don’t care how the fuck you get home, call me if you have to, but don’t do it again. Last thing … why?”

  Shane’s eyes lift up to meet his. “What do you mean why?”

  Colton stares at him long and hard and it drives me crazy that I’m not close enough to see the unspoken words pass between them. “To be cool? To impress a girl? To cover the pain from your mom? You don’t have to tell me, Shane, but the answer is very important. It’s something you need to answer for yourself.” I see Shane’s head lower and I suck in a breath with concern. Shane shifts and leans against the wall like Colton, legs crossed out in front of them, arms crossed over their chests, and heads angled up at the ceiling. The sight of them together like this is priceless, and I know this is one moment that will forever be etched in my memory.

  Colton blows out a breath and when he starts speaking, his voice is so soft that I strain to hear him. “When I was little I had some bad shit happen to me. Really bad shit. And no matter what I did, or how good I was, or how hard I tried … nothing mattered … nothing stopped it. No one helped. So in my seven year old brain, it was my fault and even some days now, I still think that way. But the worst part was living with the pain and guilt from it.” He sighs and turns his head from the ceiling and waits for Shane to do the same so they’re looking at one another. “Shit, I started drinking when I was a helluva lot younger than you, Shane … and I drank because it hurt so fucking much. And after some stupid stunts and some situations I was lucky enough to walk away from, my dad sat me down and asked me the same question I just asked you. Said the same things I said to you. But then he asked, ‘Why drink to cover it up because hurting is feeling and feeling is living, and isn’t it good to be alive?’” Colton shakes his head. “And you know what? Some days I thought it was bullshit, that I would never be able to spend a single day without thinking about it or hurting from it or feeling guilty about it … and fuck, those days? I wanted to drink. At fifteen Shane, I wanted to drink to deal with it … but my dad would sit me down and repeat those words to me. And you know what? He was right. It took time. Lots of time. And it never, ever goes away … but I’m so glad I chose to feel over being numb. So glad I chose living over being dead.”

  I don’t realize that I have tears sliding down my cheeks like Shane does until Colton reaches out and hooks an arm around his neck and pulls him close. He gives him a quick, but gruff man-hug that causes a sob to shake through Shane’s body. Colton presses an uncharacteristic kiss to the top of his head and murmurs again, “Remember, hurting is feeling and feeling is living, and isn’t it good to be alive?”

  My heart is in my throat, my breath robbed, and any hope I ever had of walking away from this beautiful disaster of a man is completely stolen from me forever.

  The damaged man helping the broken child.

  He releases Shane from the hug and I can immediately sense they are both uncomfortable with their show of emotion. Colton shoves off of the bed and laughs when he offers Shane the beer again and he pushes it away. He gathers the bag with the rest of them and starts to walk toward the door but turns back. “Hey, Shane? You stink, dude. Take a shower and get dressed, we’ve got some baseball to go watch.”

  Colton walks out of the door and stops to stare at me, so many emotions swimming in his eyes as he sees the tears staining my cheeks. I say the only thing I can. “Thank you,” I mouth. He nods as if he doesn’t trust himself to speak and walks down the hall.

  “YOU’VE GOT THEM NOW, JAX?” I ask as I watch Scooter buy some sugary crap from the snack bar with the cash I gave him. Shane refused. Fucker’s still green in the face. He won’t be eating anything for a while, unless he wants it to come back up.

  Ah, sweet memories of being a teenager and getting lit like a goddamn Christmas tree. I can’t help but feel sorry for him, but hell if it’s not kind of funny watching this rite of passage.

  Jax adjusts his baseball cap, sets his bat down and walks over to me. “Yeah, I got ’em.” He reaches out to me and we shake hands. “Thanks for …” He lifts his chin over in Shane’s direction.

  “No prob.” I laugh. “He had nothing on my first dance with the bottom of the bottle, but I talked to him.”
<
br />   “Thanks. Did Ry change her mind? Is she not coming?”

  “No,” I shake my head as I watch Ricky take a swing and rip the ball out of the infield during his batting practice. I whistle so he knows I saw him and he has the cutest damn grin on his face when he looks at me. I know more than anyone that acknowledgment in any form goes a long way. “She is. I guess Zander had a rough morning so she didn’t want him paraded around in front of the press. So I brought the boys, hoping they’d follow me.”

  Fucking vultures. I look out toward the parking lot by the Range Rover and see them all standing there, cameras slung around their necks, long range lenses pointing at me; hoping to catch … fuck if I know what at a kids’ little league game. But shit, they maintain their distance and don’t bombard me when I’m with the kids, and I’m a little shocked. Since when do they have any goddamn manners? It’s not like I’m going to be doing anything exciting behind the bleachers and creating any more unfounded illegitimate children. “Anyway...” I shrug “...it seems to have worked.”

  Jax laughs as he looks at the mob of them in the parking lot. “Ya think? Craziness, man, to live with that all the time. Do you ever get used to it?”

  “Can a car drive without wheels?” Stupidest fucking question ever but it’s Jax. Dude’s cool. Looks out for Ry.

  “True,” he says with a nod.

  I make a bit more small talk with him before I head out to give the parasitic shitbags by my car the close up pictures that’ll land them some money. That will hopefully keep them at bay for another goddamn day.

  They hit me with their cameras as I walk by, and it takes everything I have not to throw a punch because hell if it wouldn’t feel good to just let loose and have at ’em. Fucking Chase. Her words stop me only because it will harm Ry if I pull the reckless bad boy gone crazy that they’re pushing for with their bullshit questions about her being a home wrecker.

  Motherfucking promises. Fuck them all to hell. This is why I never make them. Never did before Rylee anyway. Who’d have thought the day would come that I’d be pussy whipped and okay with it.

  Add another layer of ice to Hell because it’s become colder than the arctic circle with the shit she’s changing in me.

  I told her I was trying to be a better man. Well, fuck me. Little did I know we were going to get thrown into this shit storm that was gonna pull us every which way like a motherfucking tug-of-war.

  I’ve been good so far. Haven’t picked up my phone and ripped Tawny apart for this bullshit charade she’s pulling, for throwing Rylee to the damn wolves to try and hurt me. But I know if I do it’s just going to prove that she’s gotten to me. And to her, that’s winning half the battle.

  “So when’s the wedding, Colton?”

  “Does Tawny know you’re with Rylee today?”

  “Have you picked out names for your son yet?

  Another cameraman jostles me from the side, and I whirl on him, fists clenched, jaw grinding. “Back the fuck off, man!”

  Rylee. Rylee. My fucking Rylee. I have to repeat it over and over to help me ignore their bullshit lies and prevent myself from losing my shit.

  At least the guy backs off so I can open the door to the car. Thank God for expensive ass cars because the minute I slam the door shut the sound silences and the tinted windows make it hard for the cameras to get their shot of me about to go apeshit. As much as I need to sit here and calm the fuck down, there’s no way I can with the circus surrounding me.

  I rev the engine and hope they get the clue and back off so I don’t run them over. One more rev of the engine and the slight movement backwards has them all running off to get in their cars so they can chase me.

  Fucking Christ.

  Have drama, please follow. If I put stupid-ass bumper stickers on my car, that’s what it would say.

  I check for kids and rev the engine once more before I quickly leave the lot. I get clear of the craziness when I lose most of the cars at a red light I fly through on the tail end of a yellow. I finally breathe a sigh of relief, can have a minute of peace humming along to Best of You on the radio, and then I look down at my phone.

  And the air I just got back gets sucker punched right out of me. My foot falters on the gas like a fucking rookie driver from the text displayed on the screen.

  Sealed envelope sitting on my desk. Results are back. Call me.

  My entire body freezes—lungs, heart, throat, everything. I stare straight ahead, my knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel, trying to get a grip on the onslaught of emotions burying me alive.

  I force myself to breathe, to blink, to think. The minute my head’s commands to my body click, I swerve across the lane causing horns to blare. I pull into the closest driveway I see, a strip mall parking lot, and slam on the brakes.

  I pick up my phone to call my lawyer but put it back down as I squeeze my eyes shut and try to get a handle on the nerves suddenly shooting through me. This is it. The answer on the other end of the line is going to be either my biggest fuck up or my greatest relief.

  The certainty I felt before that this couldn’t be true, doesn’t feel so goddamn certain anymore. I blow out a breath, pound a fist on the console, grab a figurative hold of my balls, and pick up the phone.

  Each ring destroys me. It’s like waiting for the chair to be kicked out from beneath my feet with a noose looped harmlessly around my neck.

  “Donavan.”

  It takes me a minute to respond. “Hey, CJ.” My voice sounds so foreign, like a little kid waiting for his punishment to be decided.

  “You ready?”

  “Fucking Christ, tell me already, will you?” I bark.

  He chuckles as I hear the paper tear. Easy for him to laugh right now when my heart’s hammering, head is pounding, and foot is bouncing on the floorboard. And then I hear CJ exhale.

  “You’re good.”

  There’s no way I heard him right. “What?”

  “She lied. The baby’s not yours.”

  I pump my fist out into the air and shout. I squeeze my head in both of my hands as the adrenaline hits me at full force, hands tremble and tears well. I can’t even process a thought. I know CJ is talking but I can’t hear him because my heart is pounding in my ears from the adrenaline hitting me like it does at the start of a race. I raise a hand to run it through my hair but stop midair to pound on the steering wheel before scrubbing at my face because I’m so overwhelmed … so inundated with fucking relief I can’t keep a single thought straight, except for one.

  It’s not mine.

  I didn’t fuck up a poor soul’s life by tainting it with my blood.

  By being born to a manipulative bitch like Tawny.

  “You okay, Wood?”

  It takes me a minute to swallow and find my voice. “Yeah,” I sigh. “Better than okay. Thanks.”

  “I’ll have Chase issue a press release for—”

  “I’ll cover that,” I tell him, wanting nothing more to than to feed the vultures a taste of crow and get their fucking obtrusive cameras out of our lives for a bit. Let Rylee adjust to my crazy-ass life while we find our footing.

  There I go again. Thinking about finding our footing and the future and shit with her. My fucking kryptonite.

  Motherfucker.

  And it hits me.

  Rylee.

  I need to tell her.

  “Thanks again, CJ, I gotta call—I gotta go.”

  I hang up and immediately start to dial Rylee but my hands are shaking so badly from the adrenaline racing through my blood, I stop for a second.

  And then I realize I want to end this once and for all before I talk to Ry. I want to call her with the slate clean so I can tell her this is all behind us. Baby, Tawny, lies—everything is over and fucking done with.

  I take a deep breath as I dial the number that used to be so familiar but now just makes my blood boil.

  “Colton?” I like the fact she’s surprised, that I’ve caught her off guard.

  Time to
play ball.

  “Tawny.” My voice is flat, unemotional. I don’t say anything else. I want her to squirm. I want her to wonder if I know or not. She’s ballsy enough to lie to my face, let’s see if she’s gonna keep up the charade or lay her cards on the table.

  Because fuck if the paternity test isn’t my ace in the hole.

  “Hi,” she says so softly that I can’t really figure out if she’s being timid or trying to sound seductive.

  Either one has my stomach churning.

  I chew my cheek, trying to figure out where I want to go with this conversation because as much as I want to make her suffer, I just want her gone. Sayonara, adios, the whole fucking goodbye. She clears her throat and I know the silence is killing her.

  Good.

  “Colton,” she says my name again, and I have to bite my tongue, let her suffer. “Did you need something? I—I’m surprised to hear from you …”

  “Really? Surprised?” The sarcasm drips from my voice like fucking motor oil. “Now why would that be?”

  She starts to stutter out words but none of them get past the first syllable. “Save it Tawn. Just tell me one thing. Why?”

  When the hell did she get like this? When did she go from my college sweetheart to the conniving, manipulative bitch on the other end of the line? What the fuck did I miss?

  “Why?” she asks, drawing the word out. We’ve been friends for so long, I can tell she’s fishing. She’s looking for a clue so she can take it and twist it and manipulate it into whatever I’m going to say that suits her best.

  And I’m done. The innocent routine ended a long time ago when it comes to her and her goddamn lies. At least I recognize it now. After what she did to Ry? And now tried to do to me?

  Batter up, sweetheart.

  “Yeah, why?” I bite out. “Because you fucking lied through those perfect white teeth of yours? Used my accident to—”

  “Colton I didn’t try to—”

  “Shut up, Tawny! I don’t care about your goddamn pathetic excuses! ” I shout at her because I’m on a roll and fuck if it doesn’t feel good to let it out. Release all of the anger and the fear and the uncertainty that’s ruled my life over the past few weeks. Left me a goddamn disoriented mess just like driving blindly into the smoke after a crash to hope I come out the other side of its oppressive fucking haze. “You didn’t try to what?”