Sweet Home Montana

by Shann McPherson

  I trace the tattoo of a wilting rose inked over Colt’s shoulder as I lie against his chest, resting my chin upon him, feeling the rhythmic lull of his beating heart. The heart I own. The heart that beats only for me. Nobody else. I can’t help but smile. At everything. At how perfect and effortless our reunion was. At how right this feels. I know it seems strange, but having Colt back in my arms makes the thought of losing my father feel slightly less painful. Colt is home. Everything feels exactly how it should have felt all this time.

  “What are you grinning at?” Colt asks, his voice deep and low, reverberating up through his strong chest.

  “What do you think?” I quirk a brow, offering him a wry glance.

  He chuckles, and it’s a delightful sound, one that warms me from the inside. His hand smooths over my bare back, his calloused fingers kneading my skin, and it is at that moment that I realize just how much I missed his touch. He can ignite the fire deep inside of me with the gentlest graze of his hands and fingers, provoking goose bumps to erupt all over me. I shudder against his touch, and he notices. A knowing smirk ghosts over his lips as he takes my hand in his, lifting it to press a kiss to the backs of my fingers.

  “Why weren’t you there when I woke up?”

  I’m caught off-guard by Colt’s question left hanging stagnant in the air. My brows knit together as I lift my chin, watching him. But he doesn’t meet my eyes. Instead, he just stares down at our intertwined fingers.

  “You said you came back for me …” He says it so nervously, so unlike him, it’s heartbreaking. “But when I woke up from the coma … you-you weren’t there.”

  I knew telling him the truth—that I came back for him—would result in questions being raised. But that doesn’t mean I am in any way prepared to give him answers. For ten years it has stayed with me and only me. And Tripp. But Colt deserves to know the truth. It doesn’t excuse my absence, but maybe it might help him to understand why I never came back.

  “I stayed … for six days. And nights.” I meet his hesitant gaze. “I never left.”

  His brows pull together as he listens to my words, and I can see so many questions reeling in his mind as he rakes his teeth painfully over his plump bottom lip.

  “I needed to come home to tell you that I’d made a mistake. That I loved you, and that I would always love you. That I would give everything up if you would just take me back.” I focus on the ink covering much of his chest, remembering back to that moment in my life, the catalyst for every reason I stayed away for so long. “I booked my ticket and everything. I didn’t know how you would take it, and I was so nervous. So scared. I was sick to my stomach with the thought that you wouldn’t accept my apology. That you would never forgive me for what I did. But I had to do it. I had to try anything and everything I could, because being without you was slowly killing me.” I close my eyes for a moment. “And then Dad called me to tell me about the … accident.” At that, I open my eyes, my gaze moving to Colt, and in a flash so fast I almost miss it, I find a sliver of guilt in his eyes. But I don’t question it. I continue, “I came back straight away. I was so scared I was going to lose you for good, and my last memory of you would be that obliterating look in your eyes when I told you that I couldn’t marry you.”

  Colt sighs a heavy breath, his hand still holding mine so tight, and that’s all the encouragement I need to go on.

  “I stayed with you. By your side every day, holding your hand. At night I curled up in the chair in the corner, and I just sat there staring at you, thinking of all the things I wish I could go back and change. Thinking of everything I would do differently if you’d only wake up.” I swallow hard. “After almost a week, your doctor forced me to go outside, to get some fresh air, to see the sunshine. I didn’t want to leave you, because I was so worried you were going to wake up when I wasn’t there, and I needed to be there when you did. I needed to see your eyes, and I needed you to see me, to see that, not only did I come back, but I stayed as well, and that I would stay, forever. But, I did as I was told, what the doctor told me to do, and I allowed myself a three-minute breather to step outside, which is when I ran into Tripp …”

  At the mention of my brother, Colt’s furrowed brow deepens, his eyes watching me intently.

  I find it difficult to continue. I don’t know if I can. Tripp is Colt’s best friend. His brother.

  “W-what happened?” he presses, cutting through my doubts.

  I stare at him a moment, studying him closely from the jagged scar that trails from his clavicle, all the way down to the top of his abdomen. It brings back so many haunting memories from that time. He suffered a clean break to his femur, a shattered pelvis, a fractured skull, which caused a bleed on his brain, four broken ribs, one of which narrowly missed his heart, puncturing his lung. He almost died. In fact, he did die. Colt’s heart stopped while he was on the operating table. For at least a few minutes, he was gone. Lord knows how he survived that. But he did. He survived, and I wasn’t there when he woke up.

  I take a deep breath, meeting his unwavering gaze. “Tripp told me to leave. To get the hell out of here, away from you.” I witness the hurt flash in Colt’s eyes, the betrayal, but I continue, “He told me you hated me, and that I was the reason you … the reason you got behind the wheel that night. He told me that it was all my fault, and that if I stayed, I’d be your ruin.”

  Tears fall, sliding down over my cheeks, dropping down onto Colt’s chest. But I make no effort to wipe them away. I cry. I sniffle back the rest of my emotion, staring down at my name on his chest, finding some comfort in those letters, realizing just how wrong Tripp was. I wasn’t Colt’s ruin. Maybe, just maybe, if that tattoo has anything to do with it, maybe I was the reason he woke up.

  Colt says nothing. His face remains blank, save for the furrowed brow, which gives away the emotion swirling around in his head. But he stays silent, staring down at our hands clasped together.

  “Tripp had no right in saying that shit to you. It wasn’t your fault,” he finally says after a few long beats, his raspy voice almost a whisper, and full of pain. “I was in a dark place after you left me. I was drinking every damn day. Drugs, too.”

  My eyes widen at that admission. Drugs. It sits like lead in my belly.

  He sighs, shaking his head, casting me a tentative look. “I pushed everyone away. Tripp. Your dad. Everyone tried to pull me out of it, but I just let the pain of losing you eat at me until there was nothing left. I let everyone down. Hell, your dad had to bail me out when I got in too deep with a dealer from Bozeman.” He shakes his head and gives a heavy sigh. “I let him down so many times, and that’s what I hate the most. Disappointing your pops. But he never gave up on me.”

  I smile through my tears at the mention of my father. Because the truth is, as hard-ass and abrupt, and stone-cold as he came across on the outside, he was the kindest, most selfless person I’ve ever had the fortunate experience of knowing and loving. And I don’t doubt one bit that he would have made it his mission to help Colt. I’m so thankful he was my father, and I am so proud to be able to call myself his daughter.

  “I did some real stupid shit after the accident. For a long time I wasn’t in a good place. That’s the thing about pain medication. They dose you up on it in the hospital, but then when you get out, you can’t go on without it. I was high on shit, I didn’t even know what, every damn day. I was a fucking mess. Your dad literally came and grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and shook some damn sense back into me.”

  Silence follows Colt’s words, my mind wandering back to the day of the accident. There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask, but I couldn’t ever bring myself to dig into it because I was terrified of the truth. I knew Dad knew, but I couldn’t ask him because, over the years, Colt and what had happened had become a moot point between me and my father. I didn’t ask. He didn’t tell. There was a mutual understanding there.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  Colt hesitates before nodding
once, and I shift a little, turning so I can really see him. Because, the truth is, I just really need to know. I don’t know why. I guess I kind of already know. But I need to ask. I need to see it in his eyes when he tells me.

  “There was no …” I trail off, biting nervously on my fingernail, staring down at the tattoos on his arm.

  “What is it?” he asks, gently pulling my finger away from my mouth.

  “There were no tire marks … on the road at the crash site. They deemed it an accident. Alcohol-related. But … was it … Did you—” I can’t do it. As much as I want to, need to ask him, I just can’t bring myself to do it. The words simply won’t come out. I force myself to meet his eyes, although I’m scared of what I might find, but I need to. And when I do, it’s terrifying and heartbreaking and everything in between. That single revelation alone brings a shiver to run down my spine, tears pricking my eyes.

  Colt takes a deep breath, his nostrils flaring from his emotion, his jaw clenching as he stares down at my hand in his. “I don’t really know what the hell was going through my head that night.” His eyes flash to mine. “I was doped up, drunk out of my damn mind. I even knocked your brother on his ass with one punch when he tried to take my keys away from me.”

  I stare at him for a long moment, the weight of his confession crushing my heart.

  “Why?” is all I can ask, shaking my head in confusion, my brow furrowing of its own accord. “You had the whole world at your feet, Colt. You wanted to be a champion. You were almost there. You could’ve had it all. Why would you give up everything to just …” Again, I stop short of finishing, because, again, I see it in his eyes, and the stark realization is like a slap to the face.

  “That’s the thing, Quinny …” He sighs, a racking, trembling breath. “None of it meant anything if I didn’t have you.”

  A sob falls from my lips as an overwhelming sadness consumes me. Ten years. Ten years wasted, full of so much unnecessary heartache. Lives ruined. And to think it could have all been avoided if I’d just stayed. If I’d never left. If I’d never made that promise to my mother all those years ago. She was sick. It was her illness that drove her to do what she did. I could have stayed, and I could have been happy. I could have lived the life she should have lived; a happily ever after with the man I loved.

  “I wish I could take it all back, Quinny. Everything,” he rasps, reaching out, the pad of his thumb gently wiping away one of my tears. He cups my cheek and I lean into his touch, closing my eyes.

  “I’m here now,” I whisper, basking in the warmth, the strength and the familiarity that his touch alone provides.

  “When are you going back?”

  My eyes open to find him watching me, gauging me.

  “To New York?” He clamps his bottom lip between his teeth as he waits for an answer, and I can’t be sure he’s not holding his breath.

  I swallow hard, my heart thumping hard in my chest as I shake my head, shrugging. “I don’t know if I am. As much as he won’t admit it, I can tell that Tripp needs me. Cash … he needs me, too.”

  His fingers toy with the longer lengths of my hair, but he remains silent.

  Say you need me, Colt. Say you need me, too. Please!

  “What about your job?” he finally asks, his eyes flitting to me before going back to my hair.

  Not the question I was expecting, or hoping for, but I think I know why he’s asking. He wants to know if I mean what I say about staying.

  “I got fired.” Despite my tears I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from the back of my throat.

  “What?” He guffaws, the hint of an incredulous smile curling his lips. “Fired?”

  I nod, sheepishly. “I lost out on a huge deal. My boss wasn’t happy. Hell, not even the untimely death of my father could save my ass from that tyrant.”

  He seems to consider what I’ve told him. “Who the hell fires someone at the same time their dad passes away?”

  I laugh again, derisively. “Edward Hawkins, that’s who.”

  “Your boss?”

  I nod, sighing heavily.

  “What about the rest of your life back there? Your friends?” Colt presses.

  I laugh once again, but this time there’s little humor to the sound. “Well, actually … I don’t have a lot of friends back in New York. I spent so long working my way up in the company, by the time I made it as far as I was going to go, I didn’t have time for friends. I know it sounds pathetic, but my weekends were spent working. Nights, too. My only real friend is Oliver, my assistant—well, my ex-assistant, now, I guess.”

  “Oliver?” Colt presses, and I don’t miss the clipped tone in his voice.

  “Yes, Oliver.” I bite back my smile, offering a sardonic quirk of my brow. “He’s twenty-four years old and he’s as gay as a man can be.”

  “Oh … okay.” His cheeks flush, complementing the contrite smirk pulling at his lips. “So, you really spent the last ten years of your life alone?”

  Oh, he’s still fixated on that?

  I nod. “Grad school was spent studying. Then I worked sometimes eighty hours a week while I was interning. Any free time I got I usually just spent it at home, researching the market and memorizing local comparisons, square-footage calculations. All that fun stuff …” I can’t help but scoff at myself. “But then, when I was alone, that’s when the memories of the past would get the better of me. So, I worked. Even when I didn’t have to. Work kept my mind busy. And so, friends and a social life took the back burner for a long time.”

  He regards me, clearly thinking hard about what I’ve told him.

  I flash him a knowing smile. “But, if what you’re really asking is whether there was anyone else, well, there wasn’t. Nothing serious, anyway. But, I mean, it’s been ten years, Colt. Of course there have been others. For you, too, I bet.”

  At the mention of others, he glances away, his jaw clenching. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Who? I want to ask. I need to ask. I desperately want to know. But I don’t ask. It already hurts knowing he’s been with other women; I don’t think I could deal with hearing all the gory details. I know there’s a lot that must have happened in the past. Hell, there’s ten years’ worth. But I’m not going to press him. I can tell it hurts him to talk about it, and I don’t want to hurt him by bringing up the worst memories from his past.

  “Are you just planning on staying here at the ranch, forever? With Tripp and Cash?”

  He shrugs, swallowing hard. “Actually, there’s this spot for sale. On the other side of Black Mountain. It’s not a lot. A couple hundred acres. I’ve been saving up for a few years, for a down payment, but with what your pops left me …” He shakes his head a moment, still clearly so taken aback by his ten percent share in Wagner Ranch. “I’m thinking maybe I’ll buy it. Something to go home to every day. A place to call my own, y’know?”

  I smile. “Colt Henry; landowner.”

  He chuckles. “Your dad taught me a lot. I wanna do something with that.”

  I smile at him. My dad would be so proud. Of course he loved Tripp and Cash more than life itself, but he loved Colt, too. He saved him. Maybe he saved him for me, knowing that one day I would come to my senses and come back for my heart.

  “What are you thinking?” Colt asks, his eyes studying me.

  “Nothing,” I lie, shaking my head. “Hey, if you want me to represent you with the land purchase, price negotiations and all that sort of stuff, I can. I’ve been told I can be pretty ruthless when it comes to real estate. They don’t call me Killer Quinn for nothing.” I offer a devious smile.

  “Who calls you Killer Quinn?” He laughs under his breath.

  “Well, no one,” I relent. “I did try put it on my business cards, but our marketing team wouldn’t approve it.”

  He chuckles again, and I love that we’ve gone from heavy and heartbreaking, to light and fun within a matter of seconds, so seamlessly. But that’s always been us. I missed that about our relationship, and I sta
re at Colt, studying his perfectly pouted lips, the tiny freckle just to the corner of his mouth. His dimples. The shimmer of mischief that dances in his eyes. I missed everything about him; every last tiny, little detail.

  “I need to thank Rylie,” I muse.

  “Rylie?” His brows pull together, his gaze regarding me carefully.

  “From Duke’s. Do you know her? Did you know she’s Duke’s daughter?”

  “Yeah, I know Rylie.” He nods once, offering a casual shrug. “What’s she got to do with it?”

  “I met her the other night. The night you rescued me before you almost pummeled that cocky little cowboy to death,” I say with dramatic flair. “And I had lunch with her and her daughter Emmy today.” I continue with a smile, “I told her about you. About our past. Of course she’d heard stories about me. But she didn’t judge me. She listened. And she gave me some advice. She was the one who suggested I come talk to you, and so I came straight to the auctions after I left her.”

  “I’ll send her a thank-you card …” Colt mutters, shifting beneath me, and I watch as a small, playful grin lights up his face, his dimples popping, only adding to the sudden glint of mischief in his eyes as he comes over me, flanking me. “Why the hell are we talking about Rylie, anyway?” His eyes burn as they bore into mine.

  “I have no idea …” I manage, words failing me as I stare up at him, suddenly breathless with just one look.

  From here, he’s even more beautiful. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminates his skin, casting him in an ethereal glow. The grin pulling at his lips causes the sparkle in his eyes to dance. His hair is, once again, sticking up in almost every direction. Hands planted on either side of my head, his biceps tight and chest strong as he hovers just above me, my name over his heart right there, glaring down at me, reminding me that this beautiful, slightly broken, painfully scarred, yet flawlessly contradicting and perfect in almost every way man, is all mine.

  Colt lowers himself, his lips attaching to the side of my jaw, trailing down over my neck. His hand skims my side, eliciting goose bumps from my head, all the way down to my toes. I need him, in every sense of the word, I need this man more than the air I breathe. I rake my fingers through his hair, gently holding him and urging him closer until his lips claim mine in a kiss so all-consuming, the rest of the world just slips away.