K. Bromberg - Crashed

“How’d you get so brave?” I ask him.

I don’t expect an answer, but when he responds it stops me in my tracks.

“The superheroes helped me,” he says with a shrug. I force a swallow down my throat burning with so much emotion I can’t speak. I look into the eyes of a little boy that I love with all my heart, and I can’t help but see pieces of the grown man who owns it too. My heart twists for both, and even though I am filled with such an incredible sense of pride, it’s tinged with a bit of sadness because I know Colton would want to know what Zander did today. The imaginary barriers he vaulted over that most adults could never fathom.

But I can’t tell him.

It’s been four days since I left his house.

Four days without speaking.

Four days for him, for us to get our individual shit together.

And four days of absolute chaos for me in more ways than one: The House, my emotions, the media frenzy over a possible baby, missing Colton.

I tell Zander I’ll put his beloved stuffed dog in his bedroom and tell him to go play tag with the rest of the boys. Go be a kid, play, laugh, and forget the images that haunt him—if that’s even possible.

I go through the motions of getting dinner together, while the familiar and comforting sounds of the boys outside help me cope.

I miss Colton. We’ve been together every day for over a month and I’m used to his presence, his smile, the sound of his voice. I’m hurt he hasn’t called but at the same time I don’t expect him to. Other than texting to make sure I’d gotten home okay and the song I Am Human , I haven’t heard from him. He has a lot to figure out, a lot to come to terms with. And God yes, I want to be there by his side, helping him figure it all out, but it’s not my situation to figure out. Plain and simple.

I can’t count how many times I’ve picked up the phone to call him—to hear his voice, to see how he’s doing, to just say hi—but I can’t. I know better than anyone that until Colton lets me back in to his barricaded heart, a call won’t do any good.

I frost the cake I’d made earlier as a little reward for Zander’s bravery today, when my phone rings. I look over at the screen and push ignore. It’s an unknown number and most likely a journalist wanting to pay me handsomely for my side of Tawny’s story. She’s told the press that I am the mistress who broke up her, the pregnant victim, and the love of her life … Colton.

The only blessing is that the paparazzi have not discovered The House yet. But I know it’s not long until they do, and I’m still trying to figure out what do I do then ?

And for some reason, the story Tawny’s painted makes me laugh. I don’t believe the inside scoop on Page Six that says she and Colton have rekindled their love affair. I was in Colton’s house. I know how much he despises her and everything she represents. That’s not why I’m sad.

I just miss him. Everything about him .

The funny thing is, this time around, I’m not worried he’s going to turn to another. We’ve passed that hurdle and quite frankly adding another woman to the mix would just complicate his life further. No, it’s not him turning to another woman I worry about, it’s him not turning to me.

Voices break through my thoughts as I cut the potatoes up for dinner. I catch Connor saying, “The douche bag’s here again.”

“We could always egg him.” That one was Shane.

What in the heck are they talking about?

“Hey, guys?” I call out to them as I wipe my hands off and head out to the living room. “Who’s here again?”

Shane tilts his head toward our front window. “That guy,” he says, pointing. “He thinks he’s so incognito parked over there.”

“Like we can’t see him,” Connor interjects. “And don’t know he’s a photographer . Camera’s a dead giveaway, dude.”

I’m immediately pulling the curtains back, looking down the street. Before I even spot the car, I know what I’m going to see. The dark blue sedan is parked a couple of houses down partially hidden by another car. I had completely forgotten about it.

At least this lone paparazzo is greedy and keeping my whereabouts quiet so he can get all the monetary gain for himself. For that I can be grateful. But it also means that if he’s figured it out, others will soon follow wanting to get the scoop from the home-wrecker I am purported to be.

Fuck! I knew The House’s anonymity was too good to be true.

“C’mon guys. Time to—”

“That’s so cool that you’re gonna be famous!” Connor says as he starts walking down the hall.

I start to correct him when Shane does it for me, with a playful shove to his shoulder. “No she’s not, dickweed! Colton’s the one who’s famous. Don’t you know anything?”

“Hey! Clean it up!” I shout after them.

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“Not a problem,” Haddie says as she guns the motor when the light turns green. “It was kind of fun teasing the photographers, although I don’t think any of them believed me when I said you were hiding away inside the house.”

I groan. It’s taken a while to get used to photographers milling about the house, but now I fear that the few I’m used to will turn into a whole yard full. “Dare I ask?”

Haddie looks over at me and just flashes her devil-may-care grin. “Nope, you may not because we’re not thinking about it … or Colton … or me … absofuckinglutely nothing of any significance.”

“We’re not?” I look over at her and can’t help but smile, can’t help but be happy she was available to pick me up from work to try and keep the vultures at bay.

“Nope!” she says as the tires squeal on a turn. “We’re gonna find a dark corner and drown our sorrows, and then we’re going to find a wicked hot beat to dance to until we can’t remember shit!”

I laugh with her, the idea sounding like Heaven. A moment to escape from the thoughts constantly running through my head and the heaviness in my heart. “What’s going on with you? What sorrows are you drowning?” And for a minute I’m sad we’ve been so busy over the past few weeks that I don’t know the answer to the question, when before I would never have had to ask.

She shrugs and is unusually quiet for a beat before she speaks. “Just some stuff with Lexy.” I’m about to ask what she’s talking about, because she and her sister are so close, but she beats me to the punch. “We’re not talking about anything that needs to be talked about, remember?”

“Sounds good!” I tell her as music springs to life in the car and we both start singing along.

I set my glass down with a clink, realizing my lips are a little bit numb. No, make that a lot numb. I watch Haddie smirk at the man across the bar and then turn her focus back on me, her smirk spreading into a full out grin. “He looks kinda like Stone,” she says with a shrug, and I’m glad my drink is empty or else I would have spit it out.

I don’t know why it’s so funny, because it really isn’t, but my head starts playing connect the dots with memories. Stone makes me think of Ace and Ace makes me think of Colton and the thought of Colton just makes me want … him. Everything about him.

“Uh-uh-uh,” Haddie says realizing what I’m thinking about. “Another round,” she says to the bartender. “Don’t think about him. You promised, Ry. No boys. No sadness. No penis perturbance allowed.”

“You’re right,” I tell her with a laugh, hoping she believes me even though I know I’m not being very convincing. “No penis perturbance allowed.” The waiter slides new glasses in front of us. “Thank you,” I murmur as I concentrate on stirring the ice with my straw instead of thinking of Colton and wondering what he’s doing, where his head is at. And I fail miserably. “I told him about Stone the other day.”