Nothing But Trouble (A Saratoga Falls Love Story Book 2)

by Lindsey Pogue

  “Then you made the right decision,” he says, unfolding his hands only to steeple them again.

  “Really?” The ten-foot walls that go up when he’s around start to crumble. He sounds sincere. I wasn’t expecting that.

  He finally looks at me again. “It’s hard to believe, I know.” He says it like it’s a normal reaction—a normal conversation between us. “But despite some of the things I’ve said, I have never wanted you to be unhappy, son. I’ve disagreed with your life choices and I’ve judged you for them, but I’ve never wanted you to be a failure or be miserable because it would teach you a lesson.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted you to be okay. I thought working for me would ensure that, but clearly I was wrong.”

  My mouth is gaping, but I close it before he notices.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Colton. I’m not completely heartless.” He smiles and stands up, stretching before he moves to poke at the fire.

  “And you’ve waited this long to tell me all of this … why?” It’s everything I can do to keep myself from being a confused, pissed-off teenager.

  “Back then you were spoiled and young. I thought for sure you didn’t know what you were throwing away.” He tosses something into the fire. “Parents always know best.” He looks at me and grins. “Am I right?”

  I can’t help it. I smile, just a little. “I’d like to think so.”

  Then, after he stares at me for a few heartbeats, his expression changes and his eyebrows draw together. “I know I was hard on you,” he says thoughtfully. “Then you started getting into trouble, racing and drinking … then there was that accident … of course I wanted you to be here, home and safe, where we could keep an eye on you.” But his words are too punitive, too easy and seemingly insincere, and my hackles begin to rise again.

  “You were worried about me? I was in the hospital for weeks, in physical therapy for months, and you never bothered to come see if I was okay, not one single time.” His nonchalance stokes a long-burning flame of hurt and resentment. “Every day I would look in that doorway and hope that you’d be standing there with her and you never were.”

  He turns around, his face red. “I visited you, Colton. I saw how badly you were hurt. I sat with you, your mother and I both did, for hours before you gained consciousness.”

  Resentful words dissolve from my tongue and I’m speechless. “Why didn’t Mom ever say anything? Why didn’t you ever come back?”

  “Once you woke up, I refused to sit there and watch you suffer. You did that to yourself, and I get it, you were going through a tough time, but I had tried to help you and you pushed me away. Call it a prideful moment.”

  “You pushed me away! You said I was a disappointment.”

  “Words said in anger, Colton. Do you think me that callous? You thought I wouldn’t come see you, my only son who almost died? That I never wanted to see you again? Yes, I was angry with you, but things change. You’d know that if you weren’t such a damn stranger. It’s been tearing your mother to pieces.”

  That gives me pause. I know she’s been anxious, persistent even, but I never realized how deeply my distance has affected her.

  My dad shakes his head and lets out a heavy breath. When he leans against the hearth and rubs his eyes, I realize how much older he looks, how gray his hair is—how tired. “I’m not a patient man,” he grumbles. “I’m not compassionate like your mother. But I’m not the tyrant you’ve always made me out to be.” His voice is rough and constricted. “I’ve done my best by you. I’ve tried to protect you and provide for you the only way I know—the only way you’d let me.” He finally looks at me, his eyes red. “When I saw you in the hospital bed, all I could see was failure—my failure and guilt for pushing you to such extremes.”

  My heart sinks, plummets, and thuds in my gut, and I have to force myself to breathe.

  “That’s why you never called,” I realize, another resentment dissolving away.

  “I couldn’t help you, and I wasn’t sure you wanted me to anyway. So I left—I gave you your space.” He huffs. “I ran away.”

  I lean back in my chair as moments I once saw in shadows of anger and regret become moments of clarity.

  “I knew better than to go street racing; that had nothing to do with you. I blamed Kylie at the time, anyway, not you. I was being reckless and stupid—that was on me.” The remnants of a spoiled brat who didn’t get his way.

  He looks at me with an understanding I’ve never seen in his eyes before. “I’m not sure you would’ve felt so abandoned by her if you hadn’t felt something like that before.” A part of me knows he’s right; I wasn’t just angry when he’d sent me away, I was heartbroken.

  I walk over to the window facing the English garden my mom spends half her days in. “Your mother will be back any minute. We’d better be talking about something or she’ll worry.”

  I nod, but I can’t think of a single thing to say.

  “How’s Kylie? Is she still with that deplorable Scott guy? Do we still hate him?”

  Surprised, I glance over my shoulder.

  My dad smiles. “Your mother told me sometime last year that we were supposed to hate him because he was moving in on your girl.”

  I can’t help but chuckle. “No, we don’t hate him. He’s not such a bad guy. Besides, Kylie’s not my girl, she hasn’t been for a long time.”

  “But there’s someone else,” he presses.

  “Yeah, there’s someone else.” The pavement outside is wet from the constant winter drizzle, the bushes verdant in the mist, different from the blanket of white we’re used to up in the mountains.

  “I overheard Casey telling your mom that this ‘someone else’ likes to take pictures. Is she a photographer?”

  I’m about to shake my head but stop myself. “Yes, but I don’t know if she knows it yet. She actually works at the shop with me. She’s the office manager … and the owner’s daughter.”

  I hear him sigh, and I turn around. My dad sits back down in the chair, a cup of tea in his hand. “Sounds a little sticky.”

  Walking toward the fire, I realize I’ve never talked to my dad about a girl in my life. “It’s hard, but not because of work—well, it’s a little hard with work.”

  He stares at me, waiting.

  “I think I might’ve ruined things between us. She wants things I’m not sure I can give her yet.”

  “Like what?”

  I shrug. “Commitment, a reassurance that I’m not going to push her away again. It’s just that things have been moving so fast. Casey’s getting attached, and I—”

  “Are you really worried about Casey, son, or are we talking about you?” He takes a sip of his tea, his eyes fixed on me over the brim. “I’m serious,” he says and licks his lip. “You want Casey to like whatever woman you’re dating, don’t you? And you can’t not date, you need a partner in life.”

  I’ve never thought about that before. I don’t plan on being alone for the rest of my life. And Casey won’t always want to talk to me like she does now. Mac, though, they’d likely be best friends. “You’re right,” I say, and I try to imagine what life would be like a couple years from now with Mac in the picture. Would we be married? Would we have a family car or more kids? It’s an overwhelming thought, but I almost smile as I imagine her multitasking and muttering a curse or two like always but with a crying baby in her arms.

  “Mac’s different than anyone I’ve ever met before,” I say aloud. “She makes me happy.” I glance at him. “She’s tough, the type of woman I hope Casey will be someday. Save for the cursing like a sailor part.”

  He chuckles. “She sounds like a keeper to me.” I realize my smile lingers and my dad is still staring at me. “So, what’s the problem then?”

  Our conversation feels strangely normal, or natural, at least. The oddest part of it is that I want him to know her; I want to talk about Mac. “I’m not sure I know anymore.”

  Later that night I’
m in bed in my old room. It’s mostly the same, sports posters still lining the walls and flannel drapes and linens to match. The housekeeper is clearly the only person who’s been in this room since I went away.

  Casey’s sound asleep in the bed beside me, too restless in an unfamiliar house to sleep on her own tonight. I stare down at my phone, deciding to finally give in and call Mac now that I have some time to myself. It’s a little after ten on a Saturday night, she’s probably awake.

  With a deep breath, I dial her number, uncertain what exactly I’ll say but desperate to at least meet up tomorrow so that we can talk.

  The phone rings four times and I expect it to go to a message when a male voice answers. “Ah—hello?” I hear people chatting in the background and an indecipherable country song filling the sporadic silences. “Hello?”

  It’s a deep voice, somewhat distracted. And as much as I want to hope, I’m certain it’s no one I know. “Can I talk to Mac?”

  “She, uh, can’t really come to the phone right now,” he says.

  My adrenaline starts humming as I process that some fool is answering her phone. “Why not?”

  There are more loud noises; I hear Mac laughing, trying to catch her breath. “Oh, my God, I just, can’t.”

  The guy sighs. “Who is this?” he asks and I look down at Casey, sleeping, trying not to lose my shit. “Colton—her boyfriend,” I bite out, no matter how foreign the word feels on my tongue. I want to claim her so that he knows she’s mine.

  “Hmm. I’ll tell her you called.”

  “Come dance with me,” I hear her say and the call ends. I want to throw my phone against the wall, but I refrain and drop it on the carpeted floor instead. I tell myself that Mac isn’t going to run off and sleep with some guy. She’s not vindictive, even if she did sound drunk. Adrenaline rushing and mind reeling, I text her.

  Me: Please call me when you can. I’d like to talk.

  No matter what’s going on or how innocent, my stomach curdles at the thought of another man’s hands on her, of what they’re doing and what it means that she’s even with him to begin with.

  Fifty-Five

  Mac

  Glancing around Nick’s place, I’m surprised how empty it feels in here, how different it is now that the last of my things are gone. A weekend of packing and the last few days of moving instead of work have given me time to get into my duplex before Christmas, though I’m beginning to wonder why I was in such a rush.

  I step up to Marilyn and Monroe’s tank and lean in to say goodbye. “You’ve provided hours of amusement, ladies. I’m not sure Nick knows how lucky he is to have you gals.” They jet up to the surface of the water, waiting for an early dinner.

  With a resigned sigh, I sprinkle a few bits of fish food on the surface and stand up. I can’t help it, I stare at the wall—through it—to Colton’s apartment. It’s been exactly six days since our fight. Five days since David returned and I ended up at Lick’s, drunker than I ever remember being in my entire life, and my brothers had to fetch me. Five days that I’ve been waiting for Colton to realize that maybe I’m worth the effort to him or whatever it is that’s really holding him back. But he hasn’t called or texted me—nothing. And I fear that being off work this past week has put too much distance between us, making it easier to be angry with me or start to forget about us, at least for now.

  My phone vibrates in my purse. The hope that it might be Colton has worn off, but I smile when I see that it’s Sam. “Hey.”

  “Hey! Your phone’s working!”

  I roll my eyes. “I know, seriously. I’m losing count of how many phones I’ve had this year.”

  “Well, I’m at your place. You on your way?”

  “Yes, just finished up here. I’ll be there in a few.”

  “Okeydokey. See you soon! I can’t wait for a girls’ night!”

  I smile. “Me too, Sam.”

  She laughs on the other end. “You’re not going to believe what I brought us to watch. You’re going to freak.”

  “Uh-oh, that sounds bad.”

  “It’ll be awesome. See you soon.”

  I shake my head, smiling as I hang up the phone.

  David opens the door, the cool air rushing in as he steps inside. “The Durango’s packed.” He rubs his hands together and lets out a shivering-cold breath. “It’s sooo much colder here than I remember.”

  “This definitely isn’t SoCal weather,” I mutter.

  “You ready to go?”

  I nod. “Yeah.” I give the apartment one final scan to make sure I’m not forgetting anything I’ll need, at least for tonight, and walk over to the whiteboard on Nick’s refrigerator. I pick up the dry erase pen and write, WANT YOUR KEY? COME AND GET IT. THANKS FOR EVERYTHING. LOVE YOU—M

  With a final sigh, I wrap myself up in my peacoat and scarf, take my camera and my workout bag off the coffee table, and head out the front door. David steps out in front of me, and for the final time as an occupant, I stick the key in the lock and twist, glance two doors down because I’m weak and can’t help it, and finally step away and head down the stairs.

  I watch my footing as I descend the steps, trying not to slip and fall. David reaches out to help me by grabbing onto my arm, but I shake my head. “It’s okay. I got it.”

  “Yeah, I know how graceful you are,” he teases.

  “I’ve only slipped and fell down the stairs that one time,” I say. At least as far as he knows.

  When I look up, I see Colton coming up the steps, shifting a hardware store bag into the other hand before he pulls his keys from his pocket. When he looks up, we both pause, nearly side by side. His features are drawn and his brow furrowed. This is the standoffish, somewhat cruel-looking man I used to know. Only now I know him better—the shades of his expressions and the way they shift—and I see how imperceptibly his eyes widen in surprise before they narrow again.

  “Hey,” I say automatically. I register David waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, but I can’t take my focus off of Colton. There’s nothing in his eyes other than anger, hatred, maybe. He almost looks like someone else.

  Other than puffs of breath dissolving in the air between us, it’s almost like there was never anything between us at all. At least, that’s what I’d think if I didn’t feel so sick to my stomach and like my heart is breaking all over again.

  “You’re moved out?” He studies the camera in my hand, then the bag draped over my shoulder.

  I nod. “David’s helping me.” I expect even the slightest reaction from him, knowing what I’ve told him about my family, but he glances toward his apartment. His resolve is palpable. It’s over between us.

  He nods, almost robotic-like, and brushes past me as he heads up the stairs. I watch him go in and out of view as he walks around the landing, toward his door. I hope that he’ll at least look back at me, but he doesn’t. “Colton!” I call his name but he shuts the door and I feel even more like a fool. Somewhere deep down I’d hoped it was only some misunderstanding, but now I know.

  I want to be angry at him, but my heart’s breaking and my chest tightens to the point I can barely breathe. Tears burn my eyes as I hurry to the Durango and shut myself inside. I won’t let him see the effect he has on me, I’ve given him too much already.

  Fifty-Six

  Colton

  From the window of my apartment I can barely see the guy’s Durango. Mac hasn’t left yet, and I have no idea why. I wish they’d just drive away so I don’t have to watch them sit there any longer. You don’t have to watch them sit there, idiot. I rub my face and tear my work jacket off, hanging it up on the rack behind the door. I need a shower and clean clothes, and then I need to finish Casey’s dollhouse. Given the unexpected last four weeks, I’m majorly behind on it.

  Turning only the Christmas lights on, I head into my room. I flick the light on and grow angry with myself the instant my line of sight passes over the far side of my bed, over the pillows that’ve been untouched since Mac was he
re last.

  I peel off my flannel work shirt, the smell of grease and brake fluid filling my nostrils. Grabbing a clean towel from the folded stack of laundry on my dresser, I’m about to head into the bathroom when my phone lights up. Kylie’s calling me.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi, I just wanted to check in about Christmas. What time do you need me to bring Casey over?”

  I rub the back of my neck. “Uh, the sooner the better,” I say with more urgency than I like, but I’ve never felt so aimless without her here before. “But you guys do whatever you’ve got planned. I’ll be around.”

  There’s a pause before Kylie speaks again. “Colt, is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine.”

  There’s rustling on the other end. “Are you sure? I know that you and Mac—”

  “I said I’m fine.” My blood boils at the sympathetic way Kylie says her name.

  She grunts. “Right, I can tell.”

  “Look, I don’t need a lecture from you, alright? I have to go.”

  “Colt, wait. I’m sorry. I just—you were doing so good. I was so proud of you.”

  I sit down on the edge of my bed and run my hand over my face. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Kylie.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, but what happened? I know how you are, you’re going to let it eat you alive. You have to talk to someone.”

  I stare at the wall, trying to figure it out, exactly. “It just didn’t work out. I already knew that was going to happen.” My fist clenches as I imagine Casey’s expression when she finds out Mac won’t be hanging around anymore.

  “Why wouldn’t it work?”

  “It didn’t, did it?” I ask angrily. “Look, we had a fight. We were clearly on different pages—that’s what matters.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well,” I say impatiently, “when she wanted me to say things I couldn’t. I wanted to make things better but it was too late. Now, we’re barely speaking.”