K. Bromberg - Crashed

“ Hello elephant in the fucking room .” He lets out an audible sigh, and his jaw tenses on my shoulder.

I don’t want to ruin the moment—the heart-to-heart we need to have more of—but since I unexpectedly brought it up, I’d rather address it and get it over with. “What’s going on with … that?” I close my eyes and grit my teeth as I await the answer.

“I don’t care what she says about what I supposedly did or didn’t do that I can’t fucking remember. I know it’s not mine, Rylee.”

The simplicity of his statement and the vigor with which he delivers it causes my hope to soar. And then to fall. If he got the results back, then why didn’t he call me? “You got the test results back already?” I say cautiously, trying to hide my wariness.

“No.” He shakes his head as the hope I have falls completely. “I took the test two days ago. Results will come any day now. But I know … I know it’s not mine.” And from the sound of his voice, I can’t tell who he’s trying to convince more: himself or me.

“How do you know, Colton, if you can’t remember?” I say loudly, frustrated and needing this to just be over, needing more emotion from him than what I’m getting. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. “I mean even if you and Tawny did...” I stop, unable to finish the thought “...she said you didn’t use a condom.” My voice is so quiet when I speak, hating that we even have to have this discussion. Hating that once again our moment of contentment is ruined by the outside world and the consequences of our pasts.

“You’re the only person, Ry … the only woman I’ve ever not used a condom with. I don’t care if you think I slept with her, but I know, Rylee … I know I would have used a condom.” I can hear the pleading in his voice for me to believe him. For me to understand an iota of the fear he’s feeling at the prospect of a child. When I don’t respond he pushes back away from me and starts to pace back and forth on the deck. The calm of five minutes ago is now replaced with pure agitation, a caged animal needing to escape its confines.

“It’s not mine!” he says, raising his voice. “There’s no fucking way it can be mine!”

“But what if it is?” I reiterate with full knowledge of the fire I’m lighting.

“It’s not,” he shouts. “Fuck! All I know is that I don’t know fucking anything! I hate the goddamn media following you and fucking harassing you. I hate the look on your face right now that says you’re going to fucking lose it if it is my baby even though you tell me you won’t. I hate fucking Tawny and everything she represents. The bullshit lies she’s fucking spewing about you that Chase says I can’t respond to because they’ll only hound you more. I hate that once again I’m fucking hurting you … that I’m going to fuck this up because my past is what it is … ” He closes his eyes and rolls his shoulders as he tries to rein in his anger.

This is the kind of fighting I can handle. Him venting, me listening, and then hopefully a little bit of the pain in his eyes and the weight on his shoulders will be eased, even if just for a bit.

“You’ve got enough on your plate. You don’t need to worry about me.” I tell him this and yet I love the fact that he’s upset by the fallout affecting me.

“I don’t?” he says with incredulity. “It’s my fucking job to look out for you, and I can’t even do that right now because everything’s so fucked up!”

“Colton—”

“I swear to God, your life gets turned upside down by me and you’re more worried about me and the boys than yourself.” He walks toward me with a shake of his head. He points to me and I look at him with confusion. “You are most definitely the fucking saint I don’t deserve.”

“Every sinner needs a saint to balance them out,” I say with a smirk.

He laughs softly and reaches out to cup my cheeks in his hands. And even though we’ve already had each other, my body vibrates instantly at his nearness, at wanting him, at needing him. His eyes lock on mine, hints of what he wants to do to me dancing behind the fringe of lashes.

“God, I fucking race you.” The emphatic words on his lips are followed by a lopsided smirk and a shake of his head, as if he’s still comprehending the depths of his emotions.

How many more times can my heart fall harder for this man? Because there it is again, the unpredictability of Colton that makes what he says just that much more poignant. Every part of my body shivers at his words.

It’s useless to try and fight the moisture pooling in my eyes because those words mean so much more than just “racing” to me. They mean he’s trying, he’s apologizing for the times when he’s going to fuck up. And for a man previously closed off from everyone, he’s handing me the key to the lock, and giving me an all-access pass.

I reach my free hand out and cup the back of his neck, pulling him into me because a man this magnificent, inside and out, is just too irresistible. I kiss him tenderly, licking my tongue between his lips so it dances intimately with his. No urgency, just soft, gentle acceptance. It’s only been minutes since our last kiss but it already feels like a lifetime. As the kiss ends, he rests his forehead against mine and I say, “I race you too.”

I can feel his smile spread against my lips, and in this moment, I know he actually gets it. He actually accepts the fact that I love him and it’s such a figurative ray of light from this dark angel of mine that I grasp onto it, silently vowing to always remember how I feel right here, right now.

We may not have everything figured out, may not know what the future’s going to hold, but at least I know we’re in this race together.

“C’mon,” he says, pulling on my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

We head toward the garage area where the guys are working on the car. As we enter, Beckett shakes his head and smirks at us. I avert my gaze quickly, so very aware that every guy in the garage knows exactly what we were just doing. The walk of shame is one thing, but when you have an audience that knows you’re doing it, well … that’s a lot more embarrassing.

Colton laughs beside me and squeezes my fingers laced with his. “What’s so funny?” I mumble, still keeping my eyes trained on the ground.

“You’re cute when you blush,” he teases. “I prefer the pink parts elsewhere on you more though.”

My mouth shocks open and before I can even recover, his mouth is on mine. The clang of tools surround us and yet all I hear is the beat of my heart. The kiss is merely a tease of what we did earlier, but when he pulls back after kissing the tip of my nose, a smirk curls up one corner of his mouth.

“What was that for?” Like I even care what the answer is. He can do that to me anytime, anywhere.

“You know me, sweetheart. If they’re gonna stare, you might as well give them something good to stare at, right? Besides, if it wasn’t clear enough earlier, I want everyone in here knowing you’re mine.”

My heart swells at his words before the sarcasm is off my tongue. “Staking a claim are we?”

“Baby, claim’s already been made,” he says, stopping to look at me with a smirk. “No doubt about that.”

I roll my eyes and laugh at him as I keep walking. “C’mon, Ace,” I say over my shoulder, “can’t you keep up?”

I feel his hand smack my butt. “You sure as hell know I can keep anything up,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leaning down so his mouth is near my ear. “My dick, you pressed against the door, my stamina, and any other thing that can be considered up … but those are the most important ones, don’t you think?” He chuckles as I shake my head and make a sound of amusement.