Chapter Four

Sunday night and Monday morning Milo and Colt had exchanged numerous texts. Every time Colt's phone chimed, he'd grabbed it to see what Milo had sent him.

He'd never been eager to receive a text in the past, but now Colt looked forward to reading everything his mate sent him. Then Monday evening, nothing. Milo hadn't sent a single text. When Colt tried to call, it had gone straight to voicemail.

Being away from his mate for two days had killed him and made his wolf snarl, but Colt kept telling himself that Milo had probably fallen asleep after a hard day's work. Unfortunately, the longer the silence dragged on, the more doubt and anxiety crept into Colt's mind. He tried to push it away, but that feeling he'd had since childhood of not being good enough to be loved by anyone dug its claws into him. Was Milo really asleep, or had he finally realized that Colt wasn't worth his time? The fear of rejection and insecurity battled against the hope that had blossomed inside Colt when he was with his mate.

That was any preternatural being's worst fear. Their mate rejecting them. Compound that with Colt's lack of self-worth and it was a recipe for spiraling into darkness.

"Pull your shit together," he murmured to himself. "Don't let those thoughts control you."

Although they hadn't set a time, Colt was parked in front of the diner, waiting and watching for his mate, wondering if Milo would even show. If his mate couldn't make it, why hadn't he texted Colt to tell him he wasn't coming? When they'd met on Sunday morning, in his opinion, they'd had a good time. Milo hadn't acted as if he was put off by anything Colt had said or done. His mate's texts and been sweet and funny, making Colt constantly smile.

"Stop overthinking things," he said to himself. "He's not rejecting you. He just got caught up in something and wasn't able to contact you."

Too bad Colt wasn't convinced. His mind kept going back to that comment he'd made about his mom to Milo the night of the reception. But if that had scared his mate, the guy wouldn't have given Colt his number.

He tried to call Milo again, but the call went to voicemail. Snarling, he tossed his phone onto the passenger seat. After the shit Colt had done when he'd fled from home, he would deserve his mate ghosting him.

Those first twenty years had been an especially dark time. Colt had done some things he wished he could take back, fucked over people who hadn't deserved it. He'd gambled, drank, fought, and spewed hatred and misery everywhere he'd gone, unable to break free of the chaos inside his head.

It was as if his life had been cursed from the womb, and Colt couldn't understand why. He didn't believe in reincarnation, but maybe he'd been the worst piece of scum in a past life and he was paying for it in this one.

All he wanted to do was see Milo, to talk to his mate, to hear his voice again. Colt scrubbed his hands over his face, and then watched the people on the street as he wondered where Milo was.

Maybe fate had decided Colt should spend the rest of his long life alone and that Milo was dodging a bullet by kicking him to the curb.

When his phone chimed, Colt snatched it off the seat, nearly dropping it as he checked his messages.

It wasn't Milo.

It was Hayley. Clearly, he hadn't taken Colt seriously when Colt had ended things.

Tossing his phone aside, he didn't even bother to read the text. Hayley wasn't who Colt wanted to hear from. He honestly wished the guy would leave him alone.

When three o'clock rolled around and his mate still hadn't shown up at the diner, Colt started the engine and drove home. He should have at least followed Milo home Sunday night so he knew where the guy lived, but that had felt too damn creepy, and he'd been determined to respect Milo's boundaries.

Colt wasn't trying to turn into a stalker. That was some shit Hayley would have done. Colt had told himself that he would see him on Tuesday, but that hadn't happened.

After parking behind the house, Colt stormed into the kitchen, his mood so foul that he didn't need to be around anyone right now. The last thing he needed to see was Kellen and Atlas making out. Atlas was sitting on the edge of the island, his legs wrapped around his mate as they deep throated each other's tongues. It was a glaring reminder that Colt's world felt like it was crashing down around him.

"Keep that shit in the bedroom," Colt snarled as he grabbed a bottle of water then slammed the fridge door. "I don't want to use the same counter his ass has been on."

Kellen growled as he pulled away from Atlas. "Disrespect my mate like that again and—"

"What?" Colt held his arms out wide, unable to rein in the all-consuming pain that was eating him alive. "You'll beat my ass? I'm not feeling very nostalgic right now."

Colt instantly regretted his words when agony flashed in Kellen's eyes. He wasn't out to cut his brother deep. In fact, since they'd reconnected, neither of them had mentioned their upbringing. It was an unspoken agreement to never broach the subject, and Colt had just thrown their shared trauma in Kellen's face like the worst piece of shit to ever live.

"The fuck you say?" Atlas jumped off the island, shoving himself in front of Kellen. "I don't know what your problem is, but that was some really messed-up shit, Colt!"

"I—" Colt whipped the bottle across the kitchen and stormed to his bedroom, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled. He should never have moved in with Kellen. No matter how hard Colt tried to forget his past, he was constantly living it like a vicious cycle that refused to end.

With a growl filled with self-loathing, he swept his hands over the top of his dresser, sending everything flying. Unable to contain his anger, he slammed his fist into the mirror above the dresser, shattering the glass into a thousand pieces.

Colt destroyed his dresser and the head and footboard of his bed, splintering the wood until his hands were a bloody mess. He despised himself for throwing that bullshit in Kellen's face, but even worse, he hated that Milo's rejection was ripping him to shreds.

For once, why couldn't he have a tiny sliver of happiness? Why did life always snatch hope out from under him whenever he stupidly thought things were finally turning around for him?

The weight of his pain became too much at times, but it wasn't Kellen's fault. Yet Colt couldn't help but feel a slight resentment toward his brother for not being able to save them from their mother.

For not being able to save Jared.

It had been sixty-seven years since he'd fled that night, but time hadn't eased a fucking thing. Colt still woke in a cold sweat, listening out for his mother's footsteps, fearing her wrath. He still saw Jared's cold, dead eyes staring back at him when Colt and Kellen had found their cousin locked in a cage in that ice-cold shed. He still saw in his mind the raw torment in Kellen's eyes every time he had to punish Colt with that leather belt.

He still heard his mother's sinister taunts of how her boys were worthless mongrels that deserved being beaten and starved. How they'd made her life a living hell and how much she hated that she'd given birth to them or taken Jared in.

The bedroom door swung open, and Kellen rushed in, wrapping his muscled arms around Colt, stopping him from wrecking more in his room. "Breathe, brother. One deep breath at a time."

Colt's chest rose and fell heavily as he closed his eyes, fighting against the toxicity boiling inside of him. It wasn't just about Milo rejecting him, even if that had been the catalyst for him losing his shit. It hurt so badly that he wasn't sure how he'd survive the pain.

"I didn't mean it," Colt sobbed. "I'm sorry I threw that in your face. All we could do was survive what she did to us."

Kellen squeezed Colt tighter. "I'm just as fucked up, little brother. The only difference is I have Atlas to ground me now. Tell me what set you off."

He jerked from Kellen's hold and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Milo rejected me."

"Are you sure?" Bewilderment laced Kellen's voice. "Doesn't he feel the pull?"

"Apparently not." Colt dropped his hands then used his shirt to wipe away the tears. "We were texting each other like crazy since Sunday, and then last night, he didn't respond to my texts and left me hanging at the diner just now. He didn't show up for our lunch date or have the balls to even send me a middle finger emoji."

"I'm not trying to be nosy, but did something happen to scare him away?"

Colt glared at Kellen. "You mean did I say or do something to ruin this?"

Kellen snarled. "Don't twist my words, Colt. I fucked up a lot with Atlas. I nearly got him killed several times because of the vampires after me. No matter how much of an asshole I was, Atlas didn't give up on me. There has to be a reason Milo stopped contacting you."

"I have no goddamn clue." Colt wished he knew. Everything had been going great, or so he'd thought. "The last texts we exchanged were talking about…things. I didn't sext him or pressure him to see me. I kept it cool and the conversation light."

"Then all you can do is wait for him to contact you, Colt. The night Atlas fled, I wanted to rip the town apart to look for him, but what would that have accomplished besides scaring him even more?" Kellen asked.

"My wolf is going insane." Colt rubbed his chest, feeling as if the ache would cripple him. "I just want to talk to Milo, to know what's going on."

"I've been where you are," Kellen replied. "I let doubt creep in and was positive Atlas had rejected me, but all he'd needed was some space to work things out. I highly doubt Milo is rejecting you, Colt. It sucks being separated from your mate, but you're just gonna have to wait until he reaches out to you."

"A vampire choked Atlas out. That was how you got him back here," Colt reminded his brother.

"Stop trying to find reasons to sink even further into despair. If I had a choice, I would have preferred he'd called me when he was ready to talk instead of finding him dangling from a bloodsucker's fist. Consider yourself lucky Milo isn't in danger."

He prayed that Milo contacted him soon, because if Colt had to wait much longer, his wolf was going to take over and track their mate down.

* * * *

Waking up, Milo whimpered as he eased himself into a sitting position on his bed. He didn't think Eric had caused any major damage, but Milo's body pulsed heavily with pain. If he'd known that Dan had talked to Eric about the debacle at the reception while Milo was at work yesterday, he wouldn't have come home.

As soon as he'd walked through the door last night, Eric had beaten Milo senseless for nearly losing his job. He'd called Milo all kinds of perverted names for "inappropriately" fondling a guest. It had taken what little strength Milo had left just to crawl from the living room and get into his bed.

This was not how Milo had wanted to spend his day off. Thank god he didn't have to work tomorrow, either. It had killed him to miss his lunch date with Colt, but there was no way Milo would have been able to walk to town.

After Eric had beaten him, Milo had shut off his phone to stop himself from texting Colt. There wasn't anything the guy could do about Milo's situation, and who would want to deal with that kind of vicious drama?

Milo didn't want Colt to know about his home life, telling himself that it would be better if they cut ties, but his chest ached so badly to talk to Colt. It wasn't the beating that made his chest hurt, either. It was a longing deep inside of him just to hear Colt's voice.

Wincing, Milo grabbed his phone off his nightstand and turned it back on, seeing that it was nearly midnight. Then his phone dinged several times to alert him that he had messages. Bracing himself—because Colt had probably told him to piss off for standing him up—Milo read the messages.

The first one was Colt asking how his work day had gone. Two hours later, he'd texted Milo to ask if everything was okay because he hadn't gotten a response.

Everything had been far from okay. The timestamp on the message said Colt had sent it right while Milo lay on the living room floor, wondering if he was going to die from what Eric had done to him. Milo only recalled the time because he'd stared at the living room clock on the wall as he lay there waiting to see if Eric was done beating him.

When his uncle stormed out of the house, Milo finally crawled to his room.

The last message was this morning, Colt apologizing if he'd said anything that might have made Milo uncomfortable.

Fuck. Milo closed his eyes. Colt thought he'd done something wrong. Milo couldn't allow him to think that, even though this would be the perfect time to never contact Colt again. That would be the best thing, but Milo wanted to reach out to him so badly that tears burned behind his eyes. How could he miss someone this much when they'd only met a few days ago? That made absolutely no sense to him.

But if he was going to contact Colt, what reason could he give for standing the guy up? He'd already lied to Colt once—about getting a ride home from a coworker—and it had felt so wrong doing it. Milo didn't want to lie again, but he also couldn't tell the truth.

Unsure where his uncle was, Milo decided to text Colt instead of calling him. But simply texting the word "hi" felt too callus and indifferent.

The phone felt like a weight in his hand as he sat there trying to think of what to say. Milo turned it over, staring at the wolf on the back, and in that moment, he shared the majestic beast's pain.

Taking a deep breath and wiping away his tears, Milo began to text.

It wasn't my intention to stand you up. I was looking forward to spending time with you, but I had to deal with family matters.

He would know where he stood if Colt didn't reply. The minutes ticked by, feeling more like hours as he waited. Milo pictured Colt's handsome face, how his dark green eyes sparkled when he smiled or how they'd smoldered at the reception when Milo had touched Colt's face.

When he closed his eyes, he could hear the deep timbre in Colt's voice asking Milo to come home with him. Instead of letting Dan ruin his night, Milo should have said yes.

A ding echoed in the room. Milo opened his eyes, his hand shaking as he hovered his finger over the message icon. Whatever the reply, Milo would never regret meeting Colt.

Just tell me you're okay.

The concern wretched a sob from Milo. He felt isolated and alone, a single text the only lifeline in the despair surrounding him. It always felt like no one cared, as if his silent screams went unheard. Not since his mother died had Milo felt safe and loved. His former boyfriends hadn't made him feel whole, but somehow, Colt did.

Colt was the first person who'd asked if he was okay and the first person who seemed to genuinely care. Milo swallowed roughly as he replied, Have you ever felt like screaming until your voice is raw?

Colt's reply was instant. All my life, shorty. Sometimes it feels like the pain is eating away at your soul.

With a hiss from moving his body, Milo lay down on his pillow then turned onto his side, holding his phone close to his face as he sent Colt another text. Like no one really sees you. Like you're invisible to the world.

Milo turned slightly when the ache became too much.

I see you, Milo. From the moment my gaze found yours, I've seen you.

Easing off his bed, Milo shuffled to his window and separated the blind slats. His uncle's truck was gone. Milo prayed Eric was out chasing tail and wouldn't return for a while.

He looked down at his phone and texted Colt. Do you want to hang out now? I get it if you don't. I just really want to get out of the house.

Once again Colt's reply was instant. Give me your address and I'll be there.

Should he do that? What if Eric returned before Colt showed up? Milo wasn't sure if his uncle was still pissed, and he didn't want the guy to cause a scene when Colt pulled into the driveway.

Sending up a prayer, he gave Colt his address.

I'm on my way.

Since Milo had no idea how much time he had, he forced himself to move a little faster, though he paid for it with deep pulses in his body. What he really needed was a shower, but he didn't think he could stand that long under the spray. He also didn't want to stick around any longer than he had to in case his uncle returned. Milo's back was killing him as he pulled his clothes off and grabbed fresh ones from the drawer.

As fast as he was able to bend his painful limbs, Milo dressed. He grabbed his phone that he'd set aside, as well as his wallet and shoes, and then headed to the porch. Once outside, Milo eased into a sitting position on the steps and whimpered as he slid his sneakers on and tied them.

It took over a minute to get back up. His body ached with every move as he climbed down the steps and walked a few feet away. Five minutes later headlights appeared on the road ahead. Milo's breath seized as he worried it was Eric, but when the vehicle turned down his driveway and grew closer, the familiar noise of his uncle's pickup was absent.

The orange Range Rover stopped next to Milo. He moved faster than his body appreciated as he headed for the passenger door. Getting in was tricky. Pain flared all over him as he eased into the seat and closed the door.

Colt didn't ask where Milo wanted to go. He simply turned around and headed down the dirt driveway. Less than a mile after they'd turned onto the main road, Eric's truck rambled by in the opposite direction.

His uncle was unaware that he'd just passed Milo.

Milo looked out his window, his heart racing at how close that had been. If Colt had taken a few minutes longer getting there…

As Milo's heart slowly returned to normal, the sound of music reached his ears. The volume was low, but he could make out the soft sound of jazz. He never would have pegged Colt as a jazz listener.

Neither of them spoke. It was as if they were lost in their own thoughts. A few minutes later, the truck made a right turn. Milo glanced around as they drove through a small, empty parking lot that looked to have six parking spaces. Colt eased the Range Rover into the last one, which was closest to a picnic table, a lone grill, and the forest that surrounded them. On the other side of the lot, opposite the table and grill, was a trash can chained to a thick wooden pole and a single blue Porta Potty.

"I figured we could enjoy some fresh air and star up at the stars while we sit at the picnic table." Colt rolled the windows down. "If it doesn't bother you, I'll play some music as we talk."

"It won't bother me." Milo opened his door, turned sideways, and then winced as he got out. He was trying his damnedest to hide his stiff movements as he forced himself to walk normally to the table instead of shuffling his way there. He didn't want Colt to know he was in pain because he didn't want to talk about what happened to him.

Colt sat on the tabletop, his feet resting on the bench. Milo eased onto the bench next to the guy's long legs. "Thanks for hanging out with me, especially since it's so late."

"I couldn't sleep." Colt's voice seemed even deeper among the dense trees surrounding them. "I was feeling restless, and your request gave me the perfect reason to get out." His leg tapped Milo's shoulder, making it ache even more than it already was. "Is this secluded enough for you to scream until your voice is raw?"

If Milo wasn't hurting so badly, he might have screamed his head off to relieve some of the despair inside of him. Instead, he gave a nervous laugh. "I wouldn't want to disturb the animals trying to sleep."

"Most are nocturnal." Colt slipped from the table and dusted off his backside. Then he turned and took Milo's hand, pulling him from the bench and a few steps from where they'd been seated.

"No!" Milo cried out as pain radiated down his arm and across his upper torso. Colt hadn't pulled hard, but the sudden movement was too much. The guy immediately dropped Milo's hand. Milo clenched his teeth and breathed out slowly, praying the agony eased as tears welled up in his eyes.

Slowly, Milo shuffled backward and eased onto the bench, hoping he didn't miss and fall on his ass.

Brows furrowed, Colt crouched down in front of Milo. His voice was soft as he asked, "Are you hurt, sweetheart?"

"I had an accident at work." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he hoped Colt bought it and let the subject drop.

Without asking permission, Colt gently lifted Milo's shirt. Since he hadn't examined himself in the mirror to see the extent of the damage, he had no idea what Colt saw. The rage that erupted in his green eyes said it all.

"How exactly did you hurt yourself?" Colt's furious gaze was still locked onto Milo's chest.

"I didn't say you could look." Milo snatched his shirt free and shoved it down, mortified that Colt had seen what Eric had done to him.

A growl vibrated in Colt's throat, the same sound he'd made at the reception, only this time it wasn't soft and sensual. It held a hard edge to it.

He tucked his fingers under Milo's chin and turned his head until they were staring at each other. When Colt spoke, his tone was calm, despite the fire still blazing in his eyes. "Can you please tell me what really happened?"

Milo lowered his gaze. "It doesn't matter, Colt. It never matters."