I say the words without any conviction because I know deep down that wherever Colton is, I would never be able to stay away from him.
We sit for a bit, each battling our own thoughts when Becks stands abruptly, his chair scraping across the floor and shattering the antiseptic silence in the room. “This is fucking bullshit. I can’t sit and look at him like this.” His voice is thick with emotion as he starts to walk out.
“He’s going to pull through, Becks. He has to.” My voice breaks on the last few words, betraying my confidence.
He stops and sniffles before turning around to look at me. “That fucker is stubborn in everything he does—everything—he better not disappoint me now.” He shifts his attention to Colton and strides to the side of the bed, the grief turning into anger with each passing second. “It’s always got to be about you, doesn’t it, Wood? Self-centered bastard. When you wake the fuck up—and you will wake the fuck up because I’m not letting you go out like this—I’m going to kick your ass for making us worry.”
He reaches his hand out and, in contradictory fashion to his gruff words, lays a hand on Colton’s shoulder for a brief moment before turning and walking out of the room.
I’m left alone with the man I love, the weight of the unknown pressing down upon us but hope finally starting to bleed through the edges of the pain.
CHAPTER 5
Colton
I can feel the car—the engine’s rumbling in my chest that tells me I’m alive—before I even see it slingshot out of the backside of the turn. I focus on my hands. They’re shaking, fucking trembling. I can’t hold onto the wheel, to my thoughts, to fucking anything at all. The wheel shudders beneath my goddamn fingers. Fingers that can’t quite grip to control the fucking chaos unraveling around me.
The confidence I own in a place that’s always been my salvation is fucking gone. Dust in the motherfucking wind.
What the fuck is going on?
The sound of metal giving—fucking shredding—mixed with the squeal of rubber sliding across asphalt echoes all around me. Jameson’s car slams into mine. And with the impact—the jolt of my body, the theft of my thoughts—my memories crash and collide like our cars do.
The thought of Rylee sucker punches me first.
The fucking ray of light against my goddamn darkness. The sun shining through this crash-crazed haze of smoke. The one and only exception to my fucking rule. How can I hear her sobs through my headset and yet see her doubled over in shock from a distance? Something’s fucked up here. Like bat-shit crazy fucked up.
But what? How?
And even though there’s all this smoke, I can still see her face clear as day. Violet eyes giving me something I don’t deserve—motherfucking trust. Begging me to let her in, to let her help heal the parts of me forever damaged from a past I’ll never outrun—never escape—even when slamming head first into the fucking wall.
I see my car rise above the smoke—above the goddamn fray of broken trust and useless hope—and I lose my fucking breath and my chest feels like it’s exploding, detonating like the shrapnel of memories embedding themselves so deep in my mind I can’t quite place where they land. Even though I’m watching it, I can still feel it—the force of the spin, the strain on my muscles, the need to hold tight to the wheel. My future and past coming down all around me like a goddamn tornado as I roll out of control struggling to fight the fear and the fucking pain I know is coming next.
That I can’t ever escape.
Debris scatters … on the track and in my head.
Collateral damage for another poor fucking soul to deal with. I’ve had more than my share of it. I choke on the bile that threatens—the soul siphoning fear that stabs into my psyche—because even mid-flight, when I should be free from everything, she’s still there. He’s still there. Always a constant reminder.
Colty, when you don’t listen, you get hurt. Now go be a good boy and wait for him. When you’re naughty, naughty things happen, baby boy.
The crunch of metal, his masculine grunt.
The smell of destruction, his alcoholic stench.
My body banging into the protective cage around me, his meaty fingers trying to take me, own me, claim me.
Tell me you love me. Say it!
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
I welcome the impact of the fucking car because it knocks those words off my tongue. I can see it, feel it, hear it all at the same time as if I’m everywhere and nowhere all at fucking once. In the car and outside of it. The resonating, unmistakable crunch of metal as I become weightless, momentarily free from the pain. Knowing that once I’ve spoken those three words only hurt can come.
The fucking poison will eat at me piece by piece until I’m the nothing I already know I am.
The goddamn fear will paralyze me—fucking consume me—dynamite exploding in a vacuum chamber.
My body slams forward but my shoulder harnesses strangle me motionless, like Rylee urging me to move forward. Like the fucking memory of him holding me back—unforgiving arms trapping me as I fight against the blackness he fills me with. Against the words he forces me to say, forever fucking up their goddamn meaning.
The impact hits me full force—car against barrier, fucking heart against chest, hope against demons—but all I see is Rylee stepping over the wall. All I can see is him coming at me while she’s walking away.
“Rylee?” I call out to her. Help me. Save me. Redeem me. She doesn’t turn, doesn’t respond. All my hope is fucking lost.
… I’m broken …
I watch the car—feel its movement encompassing me—slowly come to a stop, the damage unknown as the darkness consumes me.
… and so very bent …
My final exhale of resistance—from him, for her—as the fight leaves me.
Spiderman. Batman. Superman. Ironman.
“We’re losing him. He’s crashing!
… I wonder if there’s pain when you die …
“Colton, come back. Fight goddammit!”
CHAPTER 6
Minutes turn into hours.
Hours turn into days.
Time slips away when we’ve lost too much of it as it is.
I refuse to leave Colton’s bedside. Too many people have left him in his life, and I refuse to do it when it matters the most. So I ramble to him incessantly. I speak about nothing and everything, but it doesn’t help. He never reacts, never moves … and it kills me.
Visitors drift in and out of his room in sporadic bouts: his parents, Quinlan, and Becks. Updates are given in the waiting room where some of the crew and Tawny still gather daily. And I have no doubt that Becks is making sure Tawny keeps her distance from me and my more than fragile emotional state.
On the fifth day I can’t take it anymore. I need to feel him against me. I need that physical connection with him. I carefully move all the wires to the side and cautiously crawl on the bed beside him, placing my head on his chest and my hand over his heart. The tears come now with the feel of his body against mine. I find comfort in the sound of his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath my ear, instead of the electronic beep of the monitor I’ve grown to rely on as a gauge of his momentary status.
I snuggle into him, wishing for the feel of his arm curling around me, and the rumble of his voice through his chest. Little bits of comfort that don’t come.