14. Colt

Colt

W hat the hell are we doing? I don't know, but I can't let it stop . Watching him come was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life, but it was more than that. Getting to know him, the real him, has been... I'm just in awe of him.

I was terrified when he asked me that question because I thought he was going to leave. That this was it, and I'd never get him back, but he's here, picking at his food, and he looks truly happy right now.

And I do want to get to know him—for purely selfish reasons. I want to know everything about him. "Tell me about you, Dallas," I say as we eat quietly.

I notice he flinches a little and is tense now. I hate it but also have this deep need to find out everything about him. I feel like the root of it all goes back to the people who brought him into this world. People he no doubt has a loyalty to but fears.

"They uh..." He looks pale as he stops eating and puts his fork down. "They've always been strict. Really religious. They were older when they had me. My mom said they'd prayed for a baby but had almost totally lost faith in it until one day she found out she was pregnant." He laughs, but I hear the bitterness in it. "And they've been disappointed in their miracle ever since."

I let out a fierce growl because Dallas is anything but disappointing, and I watch his eyes go wide with shock, but I don't care. "They're idiots then."

He laughs at that, a quick, very real laugh, but he shakes his head. "I couldn't ever do anything right. Ever. No matter what I did, it wasn't good enough. I don't know what they were expecting when they wanted a child, but it wasn't what they got."

Got it. I hate his fucking parents. I thought I did before, but now I know I definitely do.

"Dallas . . ."

He shakes his head, stopping me from saying anything—not that I actually had a plan past his name. Telling him his parents are a waste of space on this planet probably wouldn't have helped.

"It was fine. Until..." He stops, and he looks so pale, he's almost green, and I'm worried he might get sick.

"Until?" I still have to ask him. I feel like he has to get this out. That he needs to talk about it. I'm not sure he ever has.

"Something happened." He stops talking, and I can feel the pain radiating from deep inside him. My mind races with what could happen that could be so life-altering, but I have no idea, and speculating isn't going to help. "It changed everything, but I don't..." He stops talking again, his eyes on me, pleading with me. "I don't want to go into detail about it. Not yet."

While I want to know because I'm almost certain he didn't do anything as horrific as he makes it seem, I don't want to push him. Clearly, it was a big deal for him. "Okay," I say softly. "That's okay. We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to."

He nods, taking another bite of his food, which makes me immensely happy. He's not running. Still. He swallows the bite and takes a drink as I start to eat again too, listening as he goes on, "They became really strict after that. Watching me like hawks. Making sure I didn't embarrass them again."

My food threatens to come back up, but I try to calm my rage. I can't imagine anyone being embarrassed by him. But I know he seems to have a loyalty to them, so I keep my mouth shut instead of calling them idiots again. "And the team?"

He stiffens again. "Same thing." He clears his throat and looks so damn sick, I want to call the question back. I just want to shut my mouth and keep the topics safe. I want his smile back. I want to see the sheer pleasure on his face again. But he continues like the brave man he is, whether he knows it or not. "Our coach was fired because of me."

I want to argue with him that there's no way the coach was fired because of him, but he gives a stern shake of his head, stopping me.

"It was my fault. All my fault. They blamed me, and they should have. They still hate me because of it."

I sit with the information for a moment, too many ideas of what could have happened to get a coach fired swirling through my mind. I want to ask him if this motherfucker hurt him. If he did, I can see how Dallas could think it was his fault. Lots of victims think that, even though they did nothing wrong, but I'm afraid to bring up too much trauma in one night. I can see he's hurting.

"I don't know what happened, but I know you well enough to know you didn't hurt anyone on purpose." He watches me closely, not looking away from me, which I take as a good sign. I don't want to make him bolt, but I need him to know that even if he doesn't tell me what happened, I know he didn't hurt someone just because he could. If he did hurt someone, first of all, I'd be shocked, but if he did, I know he didn't mean to.

"Colt?" His voice is barely above a whisper.

"Yes?"

"Can we please talk about something else? I like getting to know you, but..." I watch as he licks his lips nervously, his voice still quiet.

"You need a break from the super deep stuff?" I supply, and he quickly nods his head.

"Please."

I grin at that, happy that he feels comfortable enough with me to ask. "You want me to go over the different things I look for when I inspect the oil derricks out on the road?" I tease, and his smile slowly slides over his full, beautiful lips.

"Oh wow. That sounds super intriguing."

"I thought you'd like that."

He laughs lightly, and while we don't really talk too much about the specifics of my job, we do chat about what I do and my traveling from place to place as we finish our dinner. After we're both done, we do the dishes together, again in perfect sync. I don't want tonight to end, but soon, all the dishes have been put away, and we slowly make our way out of the kitchen and into the living room.

"Thank you for dinner," he says, playing with the hem of my t-shirt he's still wearing. He looks way too damn good in my clothes.

"Stay," I blurt out, and his eyes widen with surprise. "I mean for a little bit. We could hang out and watch TV or something," I quickly add, stumbling over every word like a nervous idiot. I guess he makes me a little nervous—but in a really good way. A way no one else ever has before.

I swear I don't breathe until he subtly nods his head and moves toward the couch. I'm so damn relieved when I see him sit down, I nearly trip over my own feet to sit down next to him.

Super cool, Colt.

Damn, I swear I usually have more game than this, but he excites me. What the hell can I say?

I flop down next to him with absolutely zero finesse, making him laugh, and my heart soars with the sound. I don't know what this mystery incident is, but I know it's caused him to experience far too much darkness in his life already. And to see light through that—yeah, that's an amazing sight.

I grab the remote, even though I couldn't give a fuck what we watch and flip it to something. But before I can ask him if it works for him, he's moving, straddling my lap, and facing me, his hands on my shoulders.

I'm nearly stunned by the move, frozen there for a moment as I look up at his beautiful face. "Is this okay?"

I manage a slow, stunted nod because it's more than okay, but I can't seem to think. My cock, which finally started to settle down during dinner, comes to life, hard as steel and trying to punch out of my jeans while he sits on me, wearing my sweats and short-circuiting my damn brain.

"I really want to kiss you again." His voice is soft but sure. There's no wavering in it whatsoever. He wants this.

"You can kiss me anytime," I say honestly.

The smile he gives me is devastating, stealing my breath as he places his hands down on my chest, leaning in and brushing his lips over mine. He's less sure now. More in his head, but I don't move.

I want him to take what he wants. I need him to believe in himself that much. To know how badly we both want this and just take it. My breath puffs out against his lips as I wait, my heart racing in my chest as I silently plead with him to kiss me.

To take what's his, as far as I'm concerned. I don't know how I fell so damn hard so fast, but that's exactly what's happened.

"I can't believe this is happening." His hands move under my shirt, his fingers dragging over my lower abs and making me shiver with intense need.

Please.

It's all I think over and over again as I wait for his next move, letting him keep all the control. Hoping he knows just how safe he is right here with me.

Just. Please. Kiss me.