Colt

 

I find myself scowling at the punching bag. I’m mad as hell, and I should be demolishing it until it’s no longer hanging from the ceiling. But instead, I’m realizing that beating the shit out of something isn’t going to make me feel any better.

I’m downright boiling over what had gone down at the house, and I don’t know what to do with all the shit going on in my head. The guilt is eating away at me as Gabe’s face flashes in my mind, and I’m livid that Quinn had dealt with the fallout. She shouldn’t have had to, but I’d stood there like a total dumbfuck—stunned that Gabe had caught us doing something that I knew we damn well shouldn’t be. The thing is, something else had crept up on me during the drive to the gym, and I can’t quite figure out what it is.

Quinn’s parting words keep echoing in my mind, and I can’t get them out of my head. If you want to allow fear to control your life, that’s your choice. But I refuse to allow it or anything else to control me—not even Gabe and Channing.

I’m not allowing fear to control me. I know the blood in my veins is made from the stuff of nightmares. My own mother had paid the price for it. Not that she was the kind of mother one would brag about, but she wasn’t all that bad. She didn’t deserve the fate that was dealt to her.

I’m trying to protect Quinn, but every time I look at her, I feel like I’m doing more damage by pushing her away—as fucked up as that sounds.

“Everything okay?”

I blink and look up to see Jude standing there, his brows hovering low over his eyes as he studies me. I hadn’t heard him approach. “Yeah, it’s good.” Fuck it. “No, it’s not.”

“Thought so. Want to hit up my office?”

As much as I don’t want to spill my shit to him, I think I need to bounce it off someone, because nothing I do is making anything better. The situation just keeps unraveling, and I don’t know what the fuck to do.

Jude’s patiently waiting for me to make up my mind.

I give him a tight nod, and without a word, he turns and starts crossing the gym to the stairwell. The steps lead to the second level where the entrance to the indoor track is located. Jude’s office is just down the hall from it.

“Beer?” Jude asks, pausing just inside the room.

The offer is completely unexpected. I’ve never seen him drink. “You keep beer here?”

That’s an understatement. “I’ll pass,” I tell him. Alcohol’s the last thing I need. One would likely turn into two, and then three, and so on.

Jude nods and walks behind his desk to settle in behind it, and I drop into the comfortable gray chair facing his desk. “Hit me,” he says.

I rub my taped hands over my face. “I don’t know where to begin,” I tell him before dropping them.

“Start anywhere, and we’ll go from there.”

I’m silent a long moment, and then I keep the details minimal as I explain Quinn’s interest in me and that I keep screwing up by giving in.

Jude studies me, his gaze watchful. “Why keep turning her down? You just admitted you’re very much into her,” he points out.

“I don’t want to hurt her.”

Jude’s face pulls into a frown. “You think you would?”

I give him a look. “You know my history.”

Comprehension dawns across his features, and he rubs his jaw. “You think you’ll be like your father.”

“I already am,” I state grimly.

“How?”

I explain what went down with Rosita, and Jude listens intently.

“She tripped, you just stated that yourself,” he says after I’m finished.

“She tripped because I pushed her,” I correct in a flat tone.

He forms a steeple with his fingers, looking relaxed as he asks, “Did you push her with the intention of hurting her?”

I’m offended that he would even ask, and I give him a black look. “Of course not.”

“Accidents happen, Colt.”

“And lessons are learned,” I say cuttingly.

Jude leans forward, his eyes honing in on me. “Sometimes, the wrong ones, evidently.”

Irritation stirs. “This was a mistake.”

Jude shrugs and nods towards the exit. “There’s the door, no one’s stopping you. Or, you can man up and hear what I have to say—that is why you’re here, isn’t it?” he asks deliberately.

My teeth grind together as I debate whether to stick this shit out or not.

“Your old man ever worry about your mom?” Jude asks, assuming my silence means this conversation is going to continue.

The question catches me completely off guard. “No…”

“Was he ever remorseful?”

“No,” I say flatly.

“Was he ever concerned he’d lose his temper again and hurt you and your mom?” he presses.

I shake my head, scowling at him.

“Did he blame his actions on others?” he prods, patiently watching me lose my grip on my temper.

My fists clench. “Where are you going with this?” I ask darkly.

He looks at me with an impassive expression on his face. “Just answer the question.”

“Yes,” I retort in a biting tone. “Everything was everyone else’s fault.”

Jude sits back in his chair, his expression satisfied. “Colt, you’re nothing like your father.”

“Everyone has a temper—it just takes some people a hell of a lot longer to act on it than others. You have yet to see mine, and you never want to witness that shit. Does it make me a bad person? I don’t think so. I’m going to ask you some questions, and I want you to answer them honestly with only a yes or no. Got it?”

My eyes narrow on him. “When the hell did you turn into a shrink?”

“Beats the hell out of me. Some of you guys bring it out of me. You worry about Quinn, right?” he asks, getting straight to the point and turning the topic away from himself.

I really don’t want to do this shit, yet I can’t seem to stand and leave. Jude regards me silently, waiting to see if I’m going to play his stupid game. I release an annoyed sigh. “You know I do.”

“And you worry about hurting her?”

“Obviously,” I grind out.

“Do you take measures to always be in control of your anger?”

“Answer the question, Colt,” he instructs.

“Yes,” I growl.

“Do you blame your actions on others?”

“No,” I clip out.

“If you feel you’ve wronged someone, you’re the first to admit it and make things right, correct?”

“Yes,” I say reluctantly.

His eyes hold mine. “Do you love her?”

I blink, and hesitate. “She’s family. Yes.”

“Are you in love with her?”

I rub my eyes, already knowing the answer. I’ve known it for a while now. I drop my hands and steadily stare back at him, refusing to answer.

The relentlessness fades from Jude’s eyes. “You’ll never hurt her, Colt. I’d bet my gym and life on it. You’re so in control of yourself that you hold yourself back with misplaced doubts. You learned something from your father all right. You learned how not to be like him.”

“You’re pushing away the single most important person in your life that you need. That you know belongs with you. She knows you and understands your fears. I also bet she makes you want to be a better person. What you have there is the reason you’ll never be like your father. Stop pushing her away. Rejection fucking hurts, and a person can only take so much before they break. You will lose her if you can’t put the past where it belongs—in the past.”

Everything he’s saying makes sense, and for once, I wonder if I might be on the right path after all. But that self-doubt is still there. That fear that I’m going to fuckup in some way…

“I’ve given you some things to think about. The rest is up to you. Taking a chance is the only way to move forward, Colt.”

There’s still one big problem. If I take that chance, there’s no going back. There’s no guarantee that Quinn and I could make things work. We could really mess things up and hurt each other badly.