Charade (18 page)

             
“You’re a good son, Colt. You…you’re incredible to her. I just wanted you to know that.”

             
This time, she’s gone for good, but she doesn’t leave my thoughts. And for the first time I admit
to myself,
I don’t want her to go.

~CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO~

Cheyenne

             
No one here even knew who she was. I wonder if I really did. If
A
unt Lily really did. If
M
om knew herself.

             
Do I know who I am?

             
The only people here who can claim to pretend to know who Mom was are me, Aunt Lily, my uncle, and cousin. Otherwise it’s my aunt and uncle’s friends. Not a lot of them because most couldn’t be bothered and the ones
who
are here probably only came out of respect to Lily.

             
But Gregory’s here. His family. Of course Lily and Mark
’
s best friends would be here. They stand on the other side of the black coffin. I don’t even understand having a coffin since all she is, is bones, but I know Lily wants the best for her. She always wanted more for Mom than Mom wanted for herself.

             
Colt is next to me wearing nice black slacks and a button-up, long-sleeved black shirt. I wonder if he went out to buy the clothes or if he had them. Not that it matters, but I know him and this isn’t the kind of thing he’s comfortable in so I’m grateful he’s doing it for me. I’m also thankful he didn’t do his hair. It still looks like it always does, sticking every which way.

             
His grip on my hand tightens, but I don’t squeeze back. I’m glad he’s here. Hate admitting it, but I need him here. My body is just too numb to do anything about it.

             
The remains of my mother’s bones are in a box as dark as the nights she spent in those woods. How much of her can even be left?

             
The pastor goes on and on. I don’t focus on what he says, just the feel of Colt’s rough hand holding mine. This rough boy who hates the world, curses like a sailor, but is so gentle with his mom and is here with me.

             
I don’t understand how we got here or why we’re in this together, but I’m not sure I could get through this day without him.

             
Something else I don’t like to admit.

             
My chest tightens again.

             
Calm down, Chey.

             
“You’re doing fucking awesome,” Colt whispers in my ear and I can’t help but smile at that. Only he would use the word ‘fuck’ at my mom’s funeral.

             
The service ends and they have me walk forward first to toss the rose in. Colt stays attached to my side. I feel the eyes of everyone else on me, watching me, waiting to see if I’m going to break down. Inside I have. I’m all cracked apart, pieces lying here and there throughout,
but for some reason, it can’t escape. It’s like there’s a roadblock keeping it in and while I’m glad, I want to be free of it too.

             
Once the rose
s
are
tossed in, we turn around. I keep walking so Colt keeps walking, supporting me as we head back to the blackened car. I can’t believe they rented a car to come in. Mom didn’t give a shit about stuff like that. Though she didn’t give a shit about anything except partying and guys.

             
Colt leans against the car and pulls me toward him. My arms go around his neck and his around my waist. My face is in his neck and I think if I was going to cry, this would be the perfect place to do it, yet it doesn’t come.

             
“You’re so fucking tough,” he squeezes my waist like he always does. “I just—I see.”

             
It’s then the enormity of what I did hits me. I asked him to come to a funeral for my mom, while his is dying. He looks at that box and sees Bev, but he’s here and he’s holding me, this boy who I’m only sleeping with.

             
“I’m sorry.”

             
“No reason to be.” Colt shrugs. But there is.

             
My aunt and uncle get to the car. They’re taking the Colt thing better than I thought. Not that they’re the kind to freak out, but I’ve never mentioned him. Didn’t even tell them he was coming with me. It makes me feel bad. They would love me, if I’d let them.

             
Lily pulls me away from Colt and hugs me. She’s crying so much my dress gets wet, but I still can’t push them out.

             
My uncle mumbles something to Colt and Colt replies.

             
Everyone is walking to their cars now and I just want to get away. Want a minute to myself which I can’t even have because we’re sharing a car with my aunt and uncle.

             
Colt and I slide in the back and them in the front. They try for small talk with Colt—asking about college, how we met, how long we’ve dated and thanking him for coming. He speaks as little as possible. He’s not one of those boys who
’
s
good with someone’s parents
, or in my case, my aunt and uncle
.

***
             

For some reason, the house feels like there are more people here than there were at the service. Funny how that happens. People who can’t make it to the sad part want to come in when the wine is offered freely and it’s more like a party.

             
“Show me your room,” comes from behind me in that husky, cocky voice I recognize as Colt’s.

             
Thank God.

             
People talk and walk paying no attention to the only daughter of the dead woman. Maybe it’s because she’s been dead for ten years and other people saw this coming even though I didn’t.

             
Once we’re up the stairs I keep my finger hooked with his and lead him into my room.

             
“Holy shit. It’s…happy in here.” I hear the laugh in his voice.

             
“What’s wrong with wanting happy?” I ask, looking around the room. Flowers are painted on the walls at the top. Each of the four walls a different color. Dance trophies and pictures of my dance team are everywhere. It’s perfect, like I always wanted.

Colt looks at the bed. “It’s white.” He grins.

“I guess that means you have good taste.”

He goes from one wall to the next, looking—dissecting. I can’t stop myself from wondering how it looks through his eyes. If the room feels like me or if he thinks it’s a lie.

“You must be good, huh?” He touches one of the trophies.

“Of course.”

             
He shakes his head. “Of course.”

             
And then he steps up to me. His mouth finds mine. It’s a gentle kiss, slow and smooth as his tongue slides between my lips. I let him lead and I follow because right now it’s easier than thinking about anything.

             
Colt doesn’t stop kissing me. Our tongues tangle and take turns, but he doesn’t take it any further. When he pulls away I’m panting. My heart races. Every time he touches me I want him more.

             
“You don’t cry, Tiny Dancer.” His chin rests on the top of my head as we hold each other.

             
“Not if I can stop it.”

             
“It’s okay, you know.”

             
“Wow. Is the hard
-
ass going to give me a pep talk?” I feel like a bitch the second the words come out, but he doesn’t call me on it.

             
“I don’t know if pep is the right word.” Then he leans closer. “Just know that you can. I won’t tell. I might not be able to do much for you, but I’ll hold your secrets.”

             
My breath catches. It’s the most amazing thing he’s said to me. Maybe that anyone has ever said to me. Still, it means so much more coming from him.

             
“I—”

             
“—Chey?” The door pushes open and Gregory’s there.

             
Colt tenses against me.

             
“Is there a reason you’re coming into my bedroom?” I ask Gregory.

             
He’s not looking at me though. His eyes are hard on Colt. “This is her mom’s service, if you didn’t notice. You could wait to take advantage of her until later, don’t you think?”

             
I swear I feel Colt’s body overheat. “Jealous I can take care of her better than you? It’s okay, Pretty Boy, I’ve kicked your ass more than once, it’s only natural I steal your girl too.”

             
Colt’s words feel like a slap across my face. I know they’re just to piss Gregory off, but they hit every button inside me that I don’t like pressed.

             
“Fuck you.” Gregory steps into the room and Colt moves toward him.

             
“Excuse me? You didn’t
steal
me from anyone.” I’m shaking now. Colt doesn’t turn around to look at me. Gregory pretends I’m not there too.

             
“Why don’t you get out of here so we can finish where we left off?” Colt says. “I don’t feel like fucking with you today.”

             
There’s a fist around my throat, tightening and tightening. I don’t know why I’m freaking out, but I hate the things Colt is saying, hate that Gregory is here and then the coffin—that big black box her bones are probably lost in flashes through my head.

             
I ga
sp. Colt and Gregory are muffled
voices in the background. I turn away from them, not wanting to let myself lose it. Why am I losing it? My vision blurs. I can’t catch my breath.
Bones. Coffin.

             
My feet tangle and then arms are there. The door slams and I’m on the floor in someone’s lap.

             
“Shh. It’s okay. Relax. You’re good. We’re good.”

             
A hand runs through my hair. Lips press to my forehead.

             
“You’re good. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have done that shit today. Take a deep breath.”

             
I fight through the panic, following Colt’s voice.

             
I find his blue eyes. His sad lips.
Gregory.

             
I struggle to get out of Colt’s hold.

             
“He’s gone. I locked the door. It’s okay.”

             
Now I’m back to me and the spell is broken. I get out of his lap and stand up. I open my mouth to tell him not to treat me like a game of tug-o-war, but he stops me. “I’m not good at this stuff. I don’t
do
this stuff. I react and that’s what I did. It was the wrong thing to do.”

             
I can’t say anything to his apology, because I know this isn’t what he signed up for but he’s here and he’s doing it and it’s not like I’m perfect either.

             
“It’s not even him as much as what you said. Don’t do it again.” I straighten my clothes and finger comb my hair. “We better go downstairs.”

             
Colt stops me before I can walk away. “Do you take anything? For the panic attacks?”

             
I shake my head. Not anymore. “I don’t need medication. I’ve handled them for years. I’d be fine if everyone would just leave me the hell alone.”

             
But I’m not fine. He’s not fine either.

             
We make it through the rest of the day. Colt is always there, but we don’t touch. It’s not the same as it was before the freak out.

             
When I pull up in front of his house, I sit there, not sure what to do.

             
“Come in with me,” he says. He didn’t ask and I’m grateful for it.

             
I turn off the car and go inside. We head straight for Colt’s room.

             
“I hate this dress,” I say when we get to his room. He opens h
is drawer and tosses a t-shirt a
t me. I’m so shocked I almost miss it.

             
Colt starts to undress first. He lies his slacks on a chair and then his shirt. I figure I need to start doing the same thing so I take my dress off, pantyhose and then slip on his shirt.

             
What are we doing? Usually he’s undressing me, not giving me clothes to wear.