Finding Fate (15 page)

“They all do,” Colt says and puts his hands together in one big white knuckled fist.  “But they don’t.  They never will.  Not until... they’re gone.”

Shades of his mother?  Maybe.  But I’m done pressing buttons with Colt.  No more researching, no more digging.  What I see before me is a man that I’m falling in love with.  A man that makes my heart race, my body ache, a man that’s worth whatever past and pain he has because I sure as hell will be bringing enough to the table.

Colt looks at me.  “Is that all?”

“That all...?”

“Just your mother?”

I nod.  “Everyone else in my family has left.  And my grandparents...”

I won’t say the word ‘dead’ because I’m not sure what it’ll do to Colt.  I still can’t believe Colt is so calm about his mother’s death but I know people have their own way of dealing with tragedy.  Then again, I don’t know if his mother’s death is a tragedy. 

“You want to know about my nightclub.”

It’s not a question but a statement.

I don’t react.

“First of all, the place has long since closed.”

I nod.  I read that.

“It was supposed to be something new for me.  My businesses are generally small, manageable.  I wanted more, to prove to myself and the world.  To prove... whatever.  Through a friend I met a guy who had bought a nightclub and needed help.  I made him let me buy into it, taking control of the place.  What can I say?  There’s a greed in me sometimes... just like how I lose control with you, Bella.”

I smile as my body tingles.

“The place opened and it was great.  The business was amazing.  Tons of people, tons of cash, tons of everything.  Including trouble.  Being the owner, I could do what I wanted.  So I... drank.  A lot.  I enjoyed it.  It was an open bar, my open bar.”

Colt moves towards me, sensing my apprehension.  The last thing I want in life is to fall in love with a guy who drinks.

“I don’t drink now, Bella, I swear.  Not like that.  Because of that night.  I hate thinking about that night because there was probably more I could have done.  I never once thought I was putting someone’s life in danger and never once did it matter that the man was gay.  All that was written up with a certain angle.  I swear on it.  I know how I said things and the way they came out, but it wasn’t with the intent the article forcefully implied to anyone who read it.  I hope you believe me.”

“I do,” I say.  “I promise, I do.”

“Hey, I kind of like that...”

“Like what?”

“Hearing you say that...
I do
...”

Colt winks, leaving my head and heart spinning some more.

He continue his story.

“What happened was that I was at the bar having a few drinks.  Chatting.  Enjoying myself.  I heard a commotion near me and when I looked I saw two guys chest to chest.  Mind you, both men were the same size.  It was a fair enough fight if a fight was going to happen.  I told my security guy to go down there and break it up.  I watched him break it up.  He talked to both men and they split up.  A few minutes later it started again.  This time one of the guys was holding another man’s hand.  It didn’t bother me but it started to paint the picture.  The other man had a gun and I knew something serious could happen.  So I wanted them to leave.  I wanted them to leave to diffuse the situation.   What I told security to do was toss them both out and make sure they get to their vehicles and leave.  Or call a cab.  Or catch a ride.  Whatever.  The last thing I wanted was a gun to go off in the nightclub.

And for the record, the man without a gun - the gay man - he put his hands on the other guy first.  He shoved him.  He put his finger to the man’s nose.  Anything to piss him off.  Granted, if the other guy, the one with the gun, was calling him names, I could understand it.

In my mind, security was to escort both men out and keep the separated.  What happened was at the door, another scuffle had started between two women.  Security went to break that up, allowing the men to go out into the parking lot.  I watched the security tapes with the police many times.  The man with the gun yelled something to the men holding hands.  One turned and charged at the man with the gun.  He did raise the gun and allowed the man to punch him in the face.  When he turned, that’s when the gunman shot.  And shot... and... shot...”

Colt closes his eyes and I have no idea what to do.  My left hand is shaking as I reach for him.  I skip his shoulder and go for his back, my hand gently touching him. 

“I was angry,” Colt says.  “Angry at everything.  Angry that I had gotten involved with a business like that.  Angry that I was drinking.  Angry that people in the world could be so cruel.  I’m not very good with some emotions and when I spoke to reporters, my comments came out wrong.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper.  “You did what you feel was right.”

“Yeah, what was right.  Tell that to the people who threatened me.  To my family.”

“Your family didn’t believe you?”

Colt looks at me.  His eyes are glazed over, glossy with tears.  “My mother did.  She was the only one.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say.

There’s a strange pause between us, like time coming to a grinding halt.  It’s a moment where everything is going to change, I just don’t know what will happen or what will change.  I see Colt taking heavy breaths, blinking.  I start to open my mouth, hoping some kind of consoling words will come, but instead, Colt falls towards me.

He collapses to me, his face just above my chest.  There’s nothing sexual about the move as I can tell by his breathing, he’s weeping.  He’s finally weeping.  And he’s chosen me to weep to. 

My hand on his back moves and my other hand works its way into his hair.

And I hold him.

I let him stay as long as he needs and we both stay in silence.

I hate to admit it but I enjoy this.  Not in some sick way but in a way that I can understand Colt’s pain.  I can appreciate it.  And I can hold it, literally.

When he moves from me, he sits back up but stays very close.  Close enough that the tips of our noses are touching again.  My lips quiver with anticipation of the taste of his mouth. 

“I’m sorry to you,” Colt whispers.

“Me?  Why?”

“Because of your mother.  Your family.  Your... everything...”

“I don’t care about that right now,” I say.  “I only care about you.  Seeing you.  Being with you.  I don’t think I can manage without you, Colt.”

“I should have told you sooner.”

“No.  You told me when you’re ready.”

“Do you want to know about my mother?  My family?”

“Of course I do,” I say.  “But I won’t ask.  You’ll tell me.  I trust it, Colt.  I trust you.”

“I... you...”

“What?”

“I... you...,” he repeats.

“Aren’t you forgetting a word there?”

“I don’t know, am I?  What if everything just fits there.  You can be my everything.”

Our lips touch, casually for a second.  Then I close my eyes and lean back, both my hands gripping Colt’s t-shirt.  I pull at him, wanting him on me.  He comes at me like I want him to and he’s body is against mine.  Right on my couch.  Our mouths are locked together, our tongues fluttering and teasing as the rest of our bodies warm up and begin to move.  Colt places his right hand to my hip, coming towards my stomach a little.  The move is so small but he’s at a spot that leaves me in a mix of tickling and tingling, sending waves through my body that are scorching but go straight to my heart. 

I’ve never been so attracted to another person in my life.  I don’t want to just be naked with Colt for the pleasure of his body against mine, I want both of us together, to be exposed, for everything.

The kiss breaks momentarily, just enough so I can exhale and inhale, adding a slight moan that Colt matches with a groan.  Then he kisses me again and I kiss him just as much.  The lower half of his body is alive and in full swing.  He presses against me, moving gently but with purpose.  I move back at him, wanting to take this as far as we can.  Right to my bedroom and stay there... all night and all day tomorrow.  Colt’s fingers creep under my shirt.  Feeling his skin against my skin just feels so right.  He’s slow and calm, making it that much hotter.  His hand stops just below my bra, his thumb sliding under my bra but stopping.  The move is sexy and I hate him for it.

Why does he have to be so perfect?

His lips move from mine even though I’m not finished with him.  His lips touch my chin and then the tip of his tongue takes over, moving down along my neck.  He moves to the right side of my neck and slowly kisses, working his way up to my ear.  He stops like he had done before, breathing.

My hands are down at his belt, pulling, moving, wanting him.

“Bella,” he whispers, his hot breath feeling good but tickling the inside of my ear.  “Bella... I’ve fallen for you...”

“Good,” I say.  “I think I...”

I lose the words.  I can’t remember the last time I told someone I loved them, other than Becca-Ann.  And even then, it’s always in a text messages... fun best friend text messages...

I’m stammering, wanting to find the words and wanting to say them to Colt.

But I can’t.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, “I feel the same way too.”

He kisses me again and lifts himself up, allowing his hand to get to the button on my pants.  I hurry and do the same to him, our hands fight for space and to see who could move faster.  Everything then becomes an erotic blur of breathing, moving, kissing, and undressing.  I trust Colt and don’t need to ask about protection but I do watch as he prepares himself.

Then we start, I finish, and it all continues...

The sounds of our souls coming today echoing through the living room as we find a comfortable spot on the couch, constantly moving and changing.  My nails dig into his back.  My hands travel down.  My hands come up his sides, force him up so I can touch all his sweaty stomach muscles and chest.  When I do so, his hands move to my chest too.  He holds me.  He loves me.  He has me...

And I have him.

When Colt finally falls to my body again, the climax of our feelings and the day coming at the same time, we’re both left breathless, both realizing that all we want and all we have are one in the same as long as we’re together.

His head is buried against my neck as we catch our breaths.  My hands are around his back, holding his broad shoulders.  My lips against his collarbone. 

“Bella... I want to tell you everything,” he says.

“Good,” I whisper.  “I want to hear it all.”

“But I want you to see it.  To see her.”

“Who?”

Colt takes a deep breath and then says, “My mother.”

-Chapter 17-

I’m on the back of his bike, my hands tight around him, the world ripping by us.  I’m wearing his helmet again, leaving him unprotected.  The ride is calm even though the roar of the bike and the wind pounding at us is harsh.  It’s a strange thing to feel but with each second that passes, we gain more ground.  More ground towards Colt’s truth and more ground for the two of us together. 

We ride up a small hill where it levels off, keeping us high enough above the town that the scene is actually pretty.  Considering the death and sadness surrounding us.  Colt stops the bike and we get off.  I stand, waiting for his next move.  I’ll admit it, cemeteries freak me out.  It’s a reminder of what’s going to happen to all of us, which is the deep philosophical sense of it.  The dumb childish sense of it all is because there are corpses in the ground.  And thanks to many October nights spent with Becca-Ann watching scary movies, I can’t help but expect a hand to shoot up from the ground and grab my ankle.

That doesn’t happen, but Colt does shoot his hand at mine, taking it.  Within walking two seconds our fingers interlock and we walk side by side, in silence.  We switch from the narrow road to the grass.  It’s not hard to find where his mother had been laid to rest.  The mound of fresh dirt is high above the ground, along with a collection of flowers on top.  It’s sad.  It’s morbid.  But when I look at Colt, he doesn’t have any emotion.  His eyes just stare at it, like he’s just thinking about it all.  All the moments that lead this one.

We stop and my toes are a foot away from the dirt.

The air around us is peaceful, with a slight breeze. 

“She was a great woman,” Colt says.  “The only one who actually believed in me.”

“That’s good,” I say.

I consider saying something about my mother but I don’t want to steal anything away from Colt.  He knows it’s not a secret about my mother and her problems.  And we’re not here because of that.

“I think I did this,” he says, pointing to the grave.  “This is all my fault.”

“How?  That doesn’t seem possible.  You weren’t here.”

Colt looks at me.  “Maybe that’s the problem.”

Colt crouches down and touches the dirt.  He pulls a small rock from the mound and rolls it between his thumb and pointer finger.  He stands again and tosses the rock to the ground.