Bones in the woods.
“Can I check on Bev?” I fight my voice to keep it steady.
“Sure. She’s in her room resting.”
Maggie lets me in and I go straight for Bev’s room. I don’t pause before slipping in the open room. It will give me more time to freak out.
“Hi.” Don’t scare her. “I just wanted to check on your tattoo.”
She holds out her wrist proudly. “It looks amazing.”
I want to touch it, but know it will hurt. “Are you putting the cream on?”
“Maggie has been.”
I’m holding her wrist and looking at the tattoo when I hear a noise behind me. I turn, relief flooding the length of my body.
Colt.
~CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN~
Colt
“What the fuck is that?” It’s a stupid question, but it’s what comes out of my mouth. It’s obvious it’s a fucking tattoo, but what I don’t understand is why it’s on Mom’s wrist and why Cheyenne is here with her.
Here.
With my mom.
Without me.
“Colton! Watch your language!” Mom sounds more pissed than I’ve heard her in a long time. I like it because it almost sounds normal. Like she’s okay, but one look at her reminds me she’s not.
My eyes find her wrist again and I take a few steps forward before I freeze. My name on her wrist. She put my name in her skin.
Because she’s dying. Because she’s dying and she wanted to take me with her. And I wouldn’t do it for her. Wouldn’t help her. I spent the night in fucking jail while Cheyenne did something for her that I couldn’t.
“Surprise!” Chey tries to sound happy. I’m jealous of her for that. For having it in her to pretend things are okay unlike me who just gets pissed. For doing something for Mom that I should have done, but didn’t. And when she wanted it, I wouldn’t have been able to do it for her anyway.
“What are you doing here?” I throw at Cheyenne. She flinches and I feel like a fucking prick, but I can’t make myself take it back either.
“I would think that’s pretty obvious,” Chey says. I can tell she wants to say a whole lot more than that, but she’s holding off. For Mom.
“If you’re going to act like that, Colton, you can turn around and walk right back out of here. This isn’t Cheyenne’s fault. I wanted a tattoo and I called her. Frankly it’s none of your damn business.”
Mom’s words are like a slap because I want Chey to be my business and Mom always has been.
I step up to them and Chey walks away from the bed. I grab Mom’s wrist and look at the swirl of letters.
Colton.
It’s simple. Plain black and not very big. It rests on her pulse point. Christ, it had to hurt for her to get a tattoo there.
But she did it. For me. She went out there were she could have gotten sick or anything could have happened. “This was stupid, Mom. Where did you go?”
“Nowhere,” Chey answers for her. “I wouldn’t do that. I brought someone here.”
I can’t make myself look at Cheyenne which makes me an even bigger asshole than I already was. I’m wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Sat my ass in jail for a baggie with a little weed while she was taking care of my mom.
I shouldn’t be pissed at her for that.
“You shouldn’t have done this,” I tell Mom. “I…” don’t want her to die. This somehow means she’s really going to fucking die.
“I needed to, Colt. I think it’s beautiful. I wanted to do more, but I decided simple was better.”
I actually want to fucking cry hearing her speak. She never calls me Colt. Never. But she is now. And she needed my name in her skin.
“Well, it’s my name. It has to look badass.” The words don’t feel nearly as real as I make them sound.
“That’s more like it,” she says. I lean down and kiss her forehead. She feels clammy.
“I’m going to go. It looks beautiful, Bev.” Chey walks across the room.
My eyes dash to Cheyenne, back to Mom and then to Cheyenne again.
“Maggie was about to help me clean up. Why don’t you go with Cheyenne?” Mom lies. But I do it. I grab onto that lie because I’m fucking weak.
“Yeah. Okay.” I look at the tattoo again. It’s red and irritated, but does look good. My name. To take me with her.
Anger and pain collide inside me so strong I feel like I could erupt right here.
“I’ll see you later.”
I don’t say a word to Cheyenne as we head outside. Her car is two down from mine. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it.
“Colt. I didn’t know what to do. She called and I couldn’t get a hold of you. But I’ll tell you right now, I don’t regret it.”
Is it crazy that I’m proud of her for standing up to me at the same time that I’m pissed at her? “Not now. Meet me at home.”
Knowing her, she won’t go. Maybe I don’t want her to. I don’t wait around to find out though. I get in the car and drive off.
The second I pull up I hear music blasting from inside. Just what I don’t fucking need tonight.
Chey pulls up behind me and slams her door. “You’re being a prick, Colt. It’s just a tattoo. You have a million of them. She’s a grown ass woman if you didn’t notice.”
“And she’s my mom, Chey. Mine. You should have talked to me first.”
“I couldn’t get a hold of you!” she screams as we stand in the dying grass. “I called you a hundred times and you didn’t answer. I didn’t—I was—don’t be pissed at me when you didn’t answer your fucking phone!” She throws her hands in the air as though she’s done with me.
And I wouldn’t blame her.
“Why are you so mad anyway? Is it because I’m getting too close?”
Christ, but she’s not close enough if you ask me and that might make me more mad. “I brought you to meet my mom, Cheyenne. That’s as close as anyone’s ever been to me.”
“Then what the hell is your problem!”
I suddenly can’t hold it in anymore. No matter how hard I want to. No matter how much I hate the words or the feeling or sharing them out loud. “What’s my problem? I spent the night in fucking jail, Chey. My mom asked me about the tattoo and I was too much a fucking pussy because of shit going on with us to deal with it and I took off. And then—”
My whole body is tense as I remember the woods. Smashing my phone. Crying. When the fuck was the last time I cried?
And realizing I wanted her. I really cared about this girl and then… “Yeah. Sorry if I couldn’t answer the phone. I was locked up.”
And this girl who means way more to me than I ever would have thought, was there for Mom when I couldn’t be.
I look at her dark eyes that look sad at my revelation about jail. Her plump lips, that I can only see because of the porch light behind us. Her caramel skin and remember what her skin feels like under my hands. Under my body.
And what I’d decided before those stupid fucking red and blue lights in my rearview.
That I cared about her.
Looking at her here I know it’s more than that. Fuck, how could I have fallen in love with her? With anyone?