Page 23 of Came the Closest
Graham: Now who’s being passive aggressive?
Colton: Still you
Chapter Eight
Your Idea, Your Responsibility
Cheyenne
Someone knocks on my door at 3:30, but even though my pulse skips, I know it’s not Colton. The man is not punctual; him arriving thirty minutes early is a definite no. Even if, inadvisably, I wish it was.
“Coming,” I call, letting my hair fall from my hands. The claw clip I grabbed isn’t cooperating, so unbrushed and loose it is.
Colton’s seen me during winter sickness; at least I’m not pale and feeling like tree rot today. That’s one perk of living here—being within walking distance to the beach whenever I need some sun, sand, and water therapy.
I weave around a pile of folded towels and through the kitchen to the door. The apartment is small—one bedroom, one bathroom, and a shared living/kitchen area—but it’s enough for me. Yawning windows overlook Main Street, with its cobblestone road, pastel awninged shops, and quaint brass lamp posts. Beyond leafy treetops and restaurant deck seating, Falls Lake stretches blue and glittering for miles.
“Oh, hey, Mom.” I step back after opening the door. “Come in. Weren’t you supposed to babysit Tate this afternoon?”
My mother steps inside, smelling of lavender and horses. “Beau texted me and said plans changed. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
I frown. Beau and Kaia canceled a date? It doesn’t sound like them, but then, nothing these days is particularly normal. Maybe he got called into the clinic.
“Nope,” I say, running a washcloth over the already shiny counter. “Unless you count laundry, but please do interrupt that.”
Mom laughs, smile lines not quite reaching her eyes, and she lifts the box in her hands. “Don’t tell your brothers about the donuts. This can be our little secret.”
Sunny Glaze donuts twice in as many days? Alongside being within ten minutes of the beach, this absolutely adds to the silver lining of moving home.
“We can sit.” I nod at the small round table supported by metal legs, situated between the island and the sofa. The only thing on top is a vase of blue hydrangeas from Hazel. “I don’t have plans until four.”
“Plans, huh?” Faint mischief sparkles in her words as we take our seats. Mischief that reminds me of a woman who wasn’t possibly on the verge of losing her chosen life partner. “Do these plans involve other humans?”
I set a paper towel in front of each of us. “It’s Colton. I asked him to come over. I want to talk to him about something.”
Mom doesn’t let her calm expression slip. “The interview?”
“Actually, no.” I wasn’t planning to talk about this with anyone until I’d talked to Colton, but this is Mom. The woman who held me tighter than my husband did after my miscarriage; who kissed my forehead after the divorce and whispered that I was stronger than life’s storms. “You heard about the daughter Sam didn’t know about, right?”
“Honey, the whole town knew about it five minutes before the girl appeared,” she says, bemused. “Yes, I heard.”
I know she’s trying to joke around, and I appreciate it, but it doesn’t stop me from squeezing my donut until frosting jams under my nails. “Well, it turns out that Kathleen died last month, and she has a four year old son—not with Sam, obviously. She, ah…” I glance at the chocolate and sprinkles donut in my hand. “She named Colton as his guardian in her will.”
Mom exhales slowly and lowers her maple glazed donut to her paper towel. “That’s a lot.”
“Yeah.” I don’t know what else to say. It is a lot.
Especially for a man like Colton, who is allergic to relationships that last longer than five minutes, and whose zip code changes nearly every week.
“I think it’s huge for him to step up and—”
“Mom,” I interrupt. “He doesn’t want to accept the guardianship.”
Her face falls. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” I say again.
I mean, I get it. His life would change drastically if he assumed the responsibility of a child that young. He’s lived a nomadic lifestyle for nearly fourteen years with only himself to care for.