Like He Never Left

chapter 10

Colt's POV

I need to get out of the car. I need to get out of the car. I need to get out of the car. 

But it's been ten minutes already, and I just can't get my ass out of the car and into the damn apartment. 

I have to see Johnny.

Johnny.

John. 

Dead. 

The air whooshes from my lungs, and I feel my heart fail on me.

I frantically roll down the window to get fresh air to my lungs and to help drop my body temperature, but it can't come fast enough. I throw myself out of the car, whip around, and rest my hot forehead on the cool metal. I heave in the oxygen practically hyperventilating and bang a fist against the car. 

Goddamn. 

I guess that's one way of doing it. 

Counting to ten, my heart rate goes down and so does my body temperature. I glance at the car next to mine, a blue Hyundai Santa Fe. Brooke's already up there in the apartment. 

Brooke. 

I can do this.

I can. 

With one last shaky breath, I grab my suitcase and the keys of my car and make my way to the elevator. Apprehension fills my gut, telling me to stop and think. But there's nothing to think about. I made my choice when I thought Josie made hers. There's nothing to be done about it now. What's done is done, and there's no way to change it. 

My feet carry me to my apartment while my mind works and turns. Like the last four hours of my life, it mulls over every single alternate version of this future if I had just made myself know all those years ago. 

It needs to chill the fuck out. 

But how am I supposed to go on, not knowing where I'm going from this point on? I know that Josie will be fine. She's got SueEllen and Tommy and Wes and June and Bobby and Carrie Ann and my dad and Katie and this whole network of supportive people. I'm all by myself up here. Yes, I have Brooke and some work friends, but only the people back home, I mean in Georgia know the whole story.

How am I supposed to tell Brooke everything if I even choose to do so? 

I shake my head of that thought. I have to tell her. Maybe tomorrow after work, when she gets home from school.

Pushing away my thoughts, I come to face my front door. After unlocking the door, I come to face a seemingly empty house, but as soon as I set my luggage down, I'm attacked by my dog and another person. We all crash down to the ground with Johnny licking my face surrounded by Brooke's fits of giggles. 

"Well, that's one way to greet someone when they come home," I laugh. Brooke's arms tighten around my neck, and I pull her closer into me. Nuzzling my nose into the crook of her neck, I breathe in the sweet scent of her vanilla shampoo, embracing it. 

"I missed you," she murmurs quietly. She presses a kiss above my collarbone, and I tense. She pulls back, searching my face. "Are you okay? You look like you're about to flatline."

I breathe out a chuckle through my nose and shake my head. Giving her forehead a light shove backward, I get out from under her and look for a mirror. I stand in front of the bathroom one, and I find that Brooke's words are true. I do look like shit. There are bags and dark circles under my eyes, and my hair looks like it went through the wringer.

Brooke comes up behind me, trying to flatten out my brown strands and giggling when it refuses to cooperate. 

"I think you should just deal with this in the shower."