Crashed

“The gun went off,” he says, and I can see him fight to hold back the emotions overtaking him, “and I thought … I thought it was you. And those few moments waiting and then seeing Zander run out of the front of the house screaming and waiting to see you and you didn’t come … fucking Christ, Ry, I lost it. Fucking lost it.” He takes a step closer to me, dashing away a tear with the back of his hand. I force a swallow over the emotion swelling in my throat.

“I made sure Zander was okay before I pushed into the house. I had to get to you, see you, touch you … and I came into the family room and you were both on your backs on the grass. You both had blood all over your chests. And neither of you were moving.” He steps between the V of my legs, making the physical connection I so desperately need, and cradles my cheek in his hand.

“I thought I’d lost you. I was so fucking petrified, Ry. And then I got to you and fell to my knees to hold you, to help you, to … I don’t know what the fuck I was going to do with you, but I had to touch you. And you were okay.” His voice breaks again as he leans in and rests his forehead against mine. “You were okay,” he repeats before pressing his lips to mine and holding them there as his shoulders shake and tears fall down his cheeks until I taste the salt of them mixed between our lips.

“I’m right here, Colton. I’m okay,” I reassure him as we press our foreheads together, our hands holding the back of each other’s necks as the outside world whizzes past us at eighty miles per hour, but it’s just him and me.

Feeling like we’re the only two people in the world.

Accepting that the emotions we’re feeling are only getting stronger with the passage of time.

Coping with the notion that we won’t always be able to save the other.

Loving one another like we never thought possible.

We turn down Broadbeach Road, our hands linked between us, and drive into a media frenzy bigger than I have ever seen. Colton blows out a loud breath. Our emotions have been put through the ringer, and I fear how much more Colton can take before he snaps.

And I pray this unruly crowd isn’t going to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back because, frankly, I just can’t take any more.

I bow my head and put my hand up to shield the swollen side of my face from the constant flashes and thumps on the car for us to look up. Within minutes Colton drives slowly forward and we edge into the opening gates as Sammy and the two other security guys on duty step forward to prevent the press from entering the property. We park and within moments Colton is opening my door, the sudden roar from the media over the gates hits me like a tidal wave.

He helps me out of the car, and I wince in pain as my body starts to stiffen from everything it has been put through. Colton notices my grimace and before I can object, he has me cradled in his arms and is walking us toward the front door. I lay my head under his neck, feel the vibration in his throat as he says, “Sammy,” and nods his head in acknowledgment at him.

And then he stops dead in his tracks. I’m not sure what’s he’s heard or what sets him off, but he unexpectedly turns and is walking toward the gates at the front of the driveway. “Open the fucking gates, Sammy!” he barks as we near them, and I immediately shrink into Colton as confusion and uncertainty fills me.

I hear the clank of metal as the motors start moving, hear the reporters become even more frenzied at the sight of the gates opening, and then I hear them go absolutely ballistic when they see the two of us standing there. My heart is pounding and I have no idea what in the hell he is doing. We stand there for a moment, him holding me, me burying my face into his neck, the incessant questions ringing out one after another, and the camera flashes so bright I can see them through my closed eyelids.

Colton angles his face down and places his mouth close to my ear, and even though there is all this outside noise, I can hear him clear as day. “This is something I should have done when this first started. I’m sorry.” He presses a chaste kiss to my cheek. “I’m gonna put you down now, okay?”

I try to figure out what he’s referring to, but I just nod my head. What is he doing?

He lowers me to the ground. “You okay?” he asks as he looks in my eyes like we are the only two people standing here. When I nod he gets that little smirk on his face, and before I can read it his lips are on mine in a soul-devouring, heart thumping, thigh-clenching-together kiss that leaves no questions about who Colton’s heart and emotions belong to. His lips claim me, tasting like a needy man starving. And I am so lost in him, to him—just as needy for him—that I don’t hear the people around us, the clicks of the cameras, because regardless of the outside world, it always comes back to us.

He breaks the kiss with a gasp from me and gives me that smirk again. “If they’re gonna stare, Ryles.” And shrugs his shoulders unapologetically as I mentally finish the phrase he said to me in Vegas … we might as well put on a good show.

“Did you all get a good picture?” he shouts to the crowd around us, and I look over at him confused. “Now this is what you can print with your goddamn picture. Rylee isn’t the home wrecker folks. Tawny is. Just like Tawny is a fucking liar.” He glances over at me as I stand there with my mouth agape over his comment. “Yep,” he shouts. “Paternity test is negative. So your story? Isn’t really a story anymore!”

It takes a minute for the meaning of his words to sink in and I just stare at him as he looks at me with the hugest grin on his face, and shakes his head as he pulls me under his arm and tucks me against him. “Wha—why—how?” I stutter as so many emotions flicker through me at a rapid pace, the most prominent one: relief.