Page 87 of Freeing Denver

“I’d kill her before you were able to say his name,” Eli says, and I look at Holly. She’s talking excitedly, her ice cream bright blue, her tongue blue, too. I grip the door and watch them, Colt smiling at whatever Holly is saying, but it’s a frozen expression. Practiced happiness.

My lip trembles as tears fall.

“I’m here,” I whisper. “Look at me, Colt. I’m here.”

My breath catches.

And his eyes meet mine.

He can’t see me through the glass, but I take in everything about him. He’s a little thinner, and he has dark circles under his eyes. He’s tired. He’s broken.

But he’s here.

And he’ll always look for me.

I press my palm to the window.

The light turns green.

And we drive away.

Chapter 26

Denver

Eli is talking, his voice droning on and on. I stare at my plate of uneaten food, my fork untouched, my mind back in that car when Colt and Holly were only feet from me.

I’m twenty-six minutes away from the city.

Twenty-six minutes.

I counted.

Colt will be looking everywhere. He’ll be hunting high and low, doing God knows what to anyone who gets in his way, and I can’t do a thing. I can only be here and hope, somehow, he figures out that I’m a fucking cab drive from where we fell in love.

My first tear falls and splashes on my plate, and Eli slams his fist down on the table.

“You’re being ungrateful.”

I look at him, and I know what I should do. Apologize, smile, tell him I am grateful that I got to see the baby today, but … I just keep picturing Colt. Holly. Wesson.

Twenty-six minutes.

“Get out of my sight.” Eli waves his hand at me, returning to his meal. “Selfish little brat.”

My legs shake as I stand, the chair legs groaning as they scrape across the hardwood floor. Somehow, I make it to the door, just as Eli says, “I’ll be returning to our bed tonight.”

I don’t have the strength to beg or plead for him to allow me a night alone.

How much more can a person take? Can desperation kill a person? Can loss of hope stop my heart?

I’m close to running on empty. To deadening myself from the reality of my new life, because how else am I supposed to survive it?

What the hell am I supposed to do?

I return to the room and change. Curling up in the bed, I close my eyes and hope to God he forgets about me. Maybe something urgent will take precedent. Maybe he’ll be called away for work again. Maybe?—

A sob escapes my throat, and I bury my face in the pillow.