Page 123 of Finding Denver

I smile brightly and nod. “Sure.”

We eat. We freeze. My phone remains silent, no calls or texts from Denver telling me she’s leaving. I tell myself I’m fine, it’s fine. Holly is already sleeping when I drop her off at my mom’s. As Wilder takes his daughter inside, my mom hugs me on the doorstep.

“You coming in?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Got the house to myself for once.”

She tuts. “I don’t like the idea of you being all alone. Come in and have a drink.”

If Antonia Harland had her way, I’d still be living at home. It’s tempting. Having the Harlands all under one roof again would be nice, even without my dad.

I think about what Finn told me. How his dad loved him the only way he knew how, even though sometimes he didn’t know what he was doing.

“Did Dad love us?” I ask.

My mother’s smile fades. “Honey, of course he did.”

“But he left,” I say. “Why didn’t he stay? Why didn’t stay and love us?” Pain echoes in her expression, in the dark blue of her eyes, and I finally say the words I’ve wanted to say for nearly two decades. “Did he find out who Finn was to me?”

Her lips part and her fingers hover by her mouth. “Colt?—”

“I don’t blame you for keeping it from me. I don’t … I don’t understand it, but I don’t judge you for it.”

Her chin dimples as she holds back tears. “Your dad left because some men aren’t ready to prioritize anyone but themselves.” She cups my face, her eyes shining. “Did I do right by you? Did I love you enough for the both of us?”

I nod quickly and pull her into a hug. She feels so small, so delicate in my arms.

“You’re the best mom I could have ever wanted. You loved us more than enough.”

She holds me. “Finn loves you.”

“I know he does.”

As I drive away, I wonder why I even brought it up. I wonder if she’ll tell Finn I know, and how he’ll react. But maybe hiding the truth is pointless when we only have so much time.

The house is quiet when I get back. I dismiss my men. I close the curtains. I pour myself a drink, and I go to the mantle.

To the pictures of my girls. Callie and me on our wedding day. Amy and me on her first birthday. Amy and Holly at the fair. My mom and Callie hugging on the beach, both grinning wide. A lifetime lived, and so much lost.

I pick up a photograph of Callie that I took when we were twenty. She’s lying in the grass on her back, her smile wide.

“When are you going to ask me to marry you?”

“And ruin the surprise?”

“Is the surprise me dumping you because you keep chickening out? Ask me, Colt Harland, or I swear I’ll find someone else brave enough to marry a girl like me.”

I smile. I never thought it was possible to love anyone the way the movies made it out to be. Lightning bolts and wild sex and arguing over pointless shit. She was my movie love. My first love.

Impossible to forget.

When I lost her, I thought I’d never find that kind of love again, and I haven’t. It’s unique to her and always will be.

Just like I could never replicate my love for Denver.

All encompassing, ridiculous, senseless, intoxicating, beautiful.

A love that’s ours.