Page 45

It was a lie. I was an easy lay. With nameless men I didn’t give a shit about and wasn’t likely to see again.

Not with Colton.

I was drunk, plenty horny, and as a rule, reckless. But not that reckless.

Colton screwed up his face in disgust. “I’m not trying to fucking trick you into bed, Hadley.”

“Okay, okay.” I held up my hands. “Jeez.” I was a little peeved that he acted like the thought of fucking me was abhorrent. Though it probably was. He probably screwed bottle blondes whose favorite position was missionary and didn’t cuss.

“You couldn’t handle my car,” I protested, weakly. I was getting tired. My head was throbbing, as were my ribs. And I needed to raid the fridge at my parents’ place. “Do you even know how to drive a stick?”

Colton’s eyes bugged out in shock. “I taught you how to drive a stick, Hadley, remember?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, and although I really didn’t want to, I did remember. The sunny day, Colton’s large palm on my bare leg. My nervous laughter, the jerking of his dad’s old pickup, Colton’s confident, patient instructions.

I forced my eyes open. No sunshine, no naïve hopefulness that came with youth. Only a rapidly decreasing whiskey buzz, a cynical soul, and a man who hadn’t become any of the things he had dreamed of.

“Why didn’t you leave?” I asked quietly. “You always wanted to. College. Football. Anything but rotting away here.”

Colton clasped the back of his neck. “Life happens, Hadley,” he replied harshly. “We don’t always become the people we wanted to be.” He held out his hand. “Now give me your goddamn keys.”

I didn’t know why I quit arguing. Obeying a man’s orders was not something I was known to do. Ever. Even if the man was an officer of the law. Especially if the man was an officer of the law.

But for whatever reason, maybe it was the fatigue in Colton’s voice, the regret, the tiredness in my bones, I did as he asked.

Colton nodded curtly, not saying anything as he walked to my car. Headed straight for the passenger side, of course, to open the door for me. He wouldn’t let a drunken argument between estranged high school sweethearts get in the way of manners. He was raised better than that.

I let out a heavy sigh, stomping toward the open door—not fighting that either.

Once Colton closed the door—maybe a little harder than necessary—I looked around. I’d never been a passenger in my own car before. When Colton settled in the driver’s seat, it felt wrong. Especially since he had to adjust the seat, pushing it back. He was much taller than me. My fingers itched as the car rumbled to life.

This car was the only thing that was mine. Purchased with money I’d scrounged while working as a waitress when I’d first ran from here. I had maintained it. Fixed it up when and where I could. Slowly, over the decades, it became the nicest thing I owned. The only thing I owned. I didn’t have a home, despite whatever the deed on the Chesterfield Street house said.

This was my car. Now being driven by Colton. My past and present were colliding uncomfortably, despite the confident way he handled the vehicle.

“You can go above the speed limit, you know.” I buckled my seat belt as he pulled out of the parking lot. “It’s actually more of a crime to not utilize the horsepower.”

Colton looked toward me for a moment before turning his attention back to the road, hands at ten and two. I expected him to say something about how sacred his precious laws were.

Instead, the car blustered as he flattened his foot on the gas, and we flew forward.

“Well, Colton Hughes, I didn’t know you had it in you.” I grinned.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Hadley,” he murmured, all solemn and serious.

Okay, so he wasn’t up for joking yet.

The air in the cab was thick, uncomfortable. I picked my cuticles, regretting submitting so easily, now trapped with Colton with no means of escape unless I wanted to throw myself out of a moving car. I wasn’t entirely ruling that out.

“Hadley…” The way he said my name felt like a thousand-pound weight.

I tensed, preparing for whatever he had to say. Hadn’t we said enough already? What else was there? My phone buzzed, and I internally thanked whoever was calling.

“I have to get this,” I held up my phone, my apology fake, my smile tight.

“Someone is trying to kill you,” Lettie told me before I even said anything.

“Isn’t someone always?” I angled away from Colton, certain he couldn’t hear the feminine murmur over the low hum of the car.