4. Colt

Colt

T hat did not go as planned. The whole damn day was a shit show. I knew it wouldn't be easy, don't get me wrong. Nothing in my godforsaken life has been easy, but still—I didn't expect that.

When my little sister called me only four months ago to tell me that she'd just had a baby, I was totally knocked on my ass. I never saw it coming. Our mother—I scrub a hand over my face and shake my head at just the mere thought of our mother.

She was so damn young when she got pregnant with me. Sixteen years old. Terrified. And all alone because my piece of shit father left her as soon as she told him she was pregnant. He was older—married—but it wasn't a felony because in the great state of Kansas, sixteen is old enough to consent. Not old enough to vote or drink, but old enough to be involved with a twenty-three-year-old, apparently.

It's disgusting. He should be locked up, but for all I know, he's off just living his damn life. I've never met the man, don't want to. But that doesn't mean that I didn't crave having a goddamn father my entire life.

But when I was four, my mother had Chloe. My little sister. My whole damn life, honestly. I loved her from the instant her chubby little fingers wrapped around mine, and I knew she was mine to protect.

My mom—she was a child still—forever that sixteen-year-old lost and broken girl. She chased after love like it was some sort of prize, and she got clobbered over and over again. I watched man after man bulldoze through her life and leave her. Chloe's dad was no different.

Mom never really wanted to talk about him, but from what I know, he showed up at the diner where she works, swept her off her feet for one night of bliss, and never called again. I'm not sure she even knew his real name.

Thankfully, after Chloe was born, and Mom was left a single mother for the second time—something seemed to click inside her, and she stayed away from men. Most people would think that was sad, but for me, it was a relief. I loved Chloe, but my mom distanced herself from both of us.

It was like she couldn't really look at us. All she saw was disappointment and sadness. So we were really all we had. Mom worked and provided for us, but that was about it. She wasn't there. She was a ghost of herself for so long, it never really felt like we had anyone.

As we got older, we leaned on each other more and more, but when I got that call that Chloe had just graduated from high school and had a baby, I knew I'd failed her. I shouldn't have left town—but I couldn't stay.

And my sister has paid dearly for it.

Chloe hadn't even told me she was pregnant, and suddenly, I was an uncle, and she was a young mother barely out of high school. When I asked about the father of the baby—I realized that she was just repeating the cycle. She didn't know him. They weren't together. All she knew about him was he was wearing a Big Bend Bears letterman jacket and his name was Dallas.

And I knew then what I had to do because there was no way in hell I was going to let Christian grow up the way we did. No father. No accountability. Alone and scared. Not happening.

And then I showed up at Dallas Boone's house, and all I saw was a terrified, startled, stunningly beautiful young man. He wasn't what I expected, even though I'm not sure what I expected.

The kid—I don't know how old he is, but I do know he's in high school—doesn't look like he belongs in high school. He's built like he could be a linebacker for any NFL team—my height, and he might even have a good ten or fifteen pounds of muscle on me, with shaggy dirty-blond hair, and the biggest blue eyes I've ever seen in my life. But those eyes, they gave his age away.

And his fear.

He looked at me like an executioner, and I suppose I came in that way. But I don't want to hurt him, I just want him to step up. Be there for my sister and my nephew so I can get the hell out of this town.

I'm exhausted by the time I push open the front door of the house I grew up in and immediately hear the wail of my nephew. It's an angry, fierce cry. The kid is not afraid to express his unhappiness when he's pissed, that's for damn sure.

I smile at that. In the month I've been back here, trying my best to help out, I've fallen head over heels for the chubby-cheeked little baby with great big blue eyes, unlike Chloe's and my dark-brown orbs. He has our dark hair though. Just like Chloe did, the kid has me wrapped around his finger.

I walk toward the sound and find Chloe desperately trying to quell the crying as she bounces the infant in her arms—clearly frazzled and exhausted. She's wearing her diner uniform, and it's so damn reminiscent of our mother, I have to stop and catch my breath.

I didn't want this for her, damn it.

I try my hardest to shake that off and plaster a smile on my face as I approach, arms out and ready to take Christian. I notice the instant relief on my sister's face when she sees me. "Colt. You're here."

I take Christian from her as she holds him out to me and cradle his tiny body against mine. The baby instantly lets his little lungs rest, and his crying immediately stops.

"I kind of hate you," she says, but she's smiling, and I know she doesn't mean it.

"No, you don't," I say smiling down at Christian, who's gazing up at me with those big blue eyes—eyes I now know for a fact are his father's.

"I don't," she says, and I notice again how tired she looks. Her hair is up in a messy bun on top of her head, and her eyes have dark bags under them. I know she loves Christian with all her heart—I see it every time she looks at her son—but there's a weariness there. A sadness I can't help compare to our mother.

If I can just get Dallas to step up and be there, maybe she'll turn out differently than our mom. Maybe she'll have a damn chance. No, I don't want them to get married or anything like that—hell, they don't even know each other—but I don't want her to be alone in this.

She assured me she has support, that our mom has stepped up a little bit, and oddly enough she has her ex-boyfriend, Zach, who's now in a relationship with his best friend, Adam. I've only met them a handful of times, and they do seem to care about her and her son, but neither of them are Christian's father.

Trust me, I asked her several times just to be certain. She's adamant that Dallas is the only one who could be the father, and I believe her. "Can we talk for a minute?"

She brings me a bottle, handing it to me, and I take it, instantly feeding it to Christian, who goes to town on the milk. Chloe looks affectionately at her son, smoothing her hand over his soft hair and then nods her head as she looks up at me. "I have ten minutes until I have to leave, so sure."

We move into the living room and settle on the couch, Christian still tucked in my arms. I try to keep the tension I'm feeling from being too noticeable because Chloe is not going to be happy. I rip off the bandage quickly though and just blurt out, "I saw Dallas today."

Chloe, who was looking totally relaxed only moments ago, stiffens next to me, her eyes wide with fury. "You did what? Dallas? As in..." Her gaze floats to her son, who has his little eyes closed and is still happily sucking on his bottle, and then lifts her eyes to meet mine. "Dallas, Dallas?"

I swallow hard, knowing how angry she is, even if she's keeping her voice quiet for the benefit of her son. "Yes. Christian's father, Dallas. That one."

"Why the hell would you do that?" she whispers, but I hear the hiss of fury in her voice.

"Because he needs to step up," I say simply.

"You had no right to do that. And when you say you saw him..." She looks horrified, and yes, for the record, I feel like an asshole, but I can't regret it either because I won't let her turn into our mother.

"I mean I went to his house and told him he needs to take a paternity test. And when that says he's the father, he needs to step up."

Yeah, she's for sure furious. She's the only person in my entire life I've ever worried about being mad at me—everyone else can fuck off—but I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think it was important. "How could you?" She looks even worse than angry now. She looks betrayed, and I feel like absolute shit, even though I won't allow myself to show it.

"Chloe, he's the father, right? There's no way anyone else can be." I look at her pointedly, telling her she can tell me anything because she can.

"He's 100 percent the father. I've only been with two people, and it's been so long since Zach and I were together," she answers, her chin held high, showing all the strength I know she holds.

"Okay then, if he's the father, then he needs to take the test, so we have it on paper."

"And then what?" she snaps but keeps her voice quiet. "You force us to have some quick wedding in the backyard, and everything is just fine?"

"No, of course not." I would never do that. "I don't think you two need to be married, but I do think he needs to step up as a father. He needs to take care of his son." I look down at Christian, who's still slowly sucking on the bottle but has drifted off into a deep slumber. The love I feel for him explodes inside my chest, but a pang of guilt remains because I can't be the man to take care of him.

I can't stay here.

"You can always come with me back to the city."

Her eyes instantly roll, and she gives me the answer I already knew. "You may want city life, but I don't."

I snort at that. I may live in one of the biggest cities in Kansas, but I travel all over the state, as well as Oklahoma and Texas, drilling oil. And I wouldn't say I live the city life, no matter where my address is. "He could go to a great school."

"They have good schools here. And quiet. And backyards. You can't even stand next to your house, reach your arm out, and not touch your neighbor's house, Colt. Fuck that."

I frown because we've already had this conversation. "Fine. Then you need someone to help you."

"I don't," she says, her chin lifted in defiance.

I know I need to tread carefully, but that's never really been easy for me. "Oh yeah? So if I left right now, and I mean right this second, who the hell would watch Christian while you're at work?"

Yeah, definitely didn't pull off the treading carefully thing. Not even a little bit. She rears back, and her eyes are full of hurt. Shit .

"Chlo—"

"Don't," she snaps, "I didn't ask you to come here. I have it handled. I know you see me as a stupid little girl, and yes, I made a dumbass, drunken mistake. But I got Christian from it, and I don't regret it."

"I know, and you shouldn't. But you need help." I don't say what we both already know is the truth—that the help I'm talking about can't be me for much longer. I have a life I need to get back to. And if she won't come with me, I don't know what else to do.

"Mom has helped," she says quietly, looking very much the lost and lonely little girl I know.

"You can't count on her, Chlo. You know it. I know it."

"I'll figure it out."

"Then let me help you." Christian lets the nipple of the bottle pop out of his mouth but doesn't stir. I can't help smiling down at him and then back at Chloe. "Let me help you both."

"What did he say? When you told him about Christian?"

I think about it for a moment. The kid was for sure not happy, and he looked completely dumbstruck, like it wasn't possible. But do I want Chloe to know that? Not really.

"He said if you want him to take the test, he'll take it." Not exactly a lie.

For a split-second, I think she's going to make this easier on me, that she's actually not going to fight me on this. But then, being my sister and fiercely stubborn, she gives a shake of her head. "No. I don't want that."

"Goddammit, Chloe."

"No." She stands up from the couch, her eyes shining with frustration. "Leave it alone. I don't know him, Colt."

"So get to know him," I say calmly, trying not to jostle the sleeping baby. "You can get to know him."

She shakes her head at me. "No," she says so firmly, for a moment a chill runs through me, full of worry.

"Chloe." I look up at her, keeping my tone even and serious. "Did he do something? Did he hurt you?"

She studies me for a moment, probably thinking about what I'm talking about, and I feel bile creeping up in my throat. The kid seemed harmless, but don't they all? "No, Colt." Her tone softens a little bit. "It was all consensual. I didn't know him, and he didn't know me. It was quick and stupid, but he didn't hurt me. I just don't know him, and I don't want to."

"But why?" I have to ask.

"Because sometimes it's best to not know."

It's all she says before she leans down and kisses me on the cheek, gives her son a kiss on the forehead, then grabs her purse and leaves.

I'm glad she didn't tell me to go or challenge me about leaving her with no one to watch Christian tonight because that means she knows that I'm in her corner.

So I hope like hell she can forgive me for what I have to do next.

Because I can't let this go, and if getting to know him will help Chloe want to take that next step, then that's exactly what I'll do .