Page 105 of Colton

She stares at the flowers and the bag with the wine, unimpressed. She blinks, looks up at me like I just kicked her puppy. Did I expect a warm welcome? No. I didn’t expect it to go this sour this quickly, either.

Then, to my surprise, she steps aside.

“Come inside. This isn’t a conversation for outside.”

I step into the house, take off my shoes immediately, and something akin to approval flashes in Chloe’s eyes, though it’s gone quickly. Dahlia follows suit, closing the door behind her. Then, Chloe leads us toward the living room, where Avalon’s brothers and her father are, Emilia trailing closely behind.

Her father looks up from the newspaper he’d been reading, folding it neatly, and putting it on the table in front of him. He offers no words, and he’s calm — almost too calm for this situation.

“Sit,” he says, and Dahlia’s the first one to listen. Then I lower all the gifts on the table and sit across from him. The boys stop playing their game, take off their headsets, and although they act like they’re interested in the paused game, their eyes often flicker toward us.

“You’re the man that caused my Ava to run and hide,” he says, and there’s nothing in his voice. It’s flat, and I can’t tell if I’m about to get hit or if this will be a peaceful conversation.

I could point out the flaw in his statement and the fact that it wasn’t entirely my fault, as it wasn’t me who leaked the news, but I decided against it. Right now, the man wants me to take all the blame, and if that’s going to make him feel better, I’m more than willing to oblige.

“It’s all my fault,” I say, keeping my voice even. “I didn’t react in time, and it caused Avalon pain. I take full responsibility for it.”

“Hm,” he says, locking eyes with his wife, who’s standing behind me. I can feel her shooting daggers at the back of my head, and to say this is uncomfortable would be an understatement. “What is your plan here?”

“Pardon?”

His eyes narrow. “What is it that you’re doing that will make this better for Avalon? I don’t care about you or your reputation, but my daughter is my world. And although I’d love nothing more than to put a bullet through your skull for hurting her, she’d resent me for touching you. So, what are you going to do to make this situation better for my daughter?”

I take a deep breath. “Avalon is graduating soon, and I resigned.”

He blinks, clearly taken aback. “You resigned,” he repeats slowly. “Because of Avalon?”

“No, it was for Avalon,” I say without any hesitation. “I understand this situation is unusual, and you’d rather I not be anywhere near your daughter, which I completely understand. However, I’m not going to give her up, and I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure I’m the one who takes the fall for this entirely.”

“Good,” he says. “Because it is your fault entirely.”

“Yes, it is,” I agree.

Chloe scoffs behind me, and I can tell she’s not satisfied with how everything’s progressing. Emilia disappears up the stairs, and a few moments later, I hear two pairs of footsteps coming down.

And there she is.

She’s dressed in an oversized sweatshirt with sweatpants, her hair tied in a messy bun, and my God, she looks perfect. Her eyes widen when she sees Dahlia and me, her eyes darting between her parents and us.

“Colton?” She whispers, taking a small step forward. “Why are you here?”

“I came to see you.”

And when she smiles at me? All of this is fucking worth it. I don’t care about her mother’s glare or the clear disapproval in her father’s eyes. All I can focus on is her — the way she’s looking at me like she’s been dying to see me.

My heart does something complicated, and part of me wants to pull her into my arms, take her away, and keep her far from other people’s eyes. The rational part of me tells me that if tonight goes even a little well, I’ll have her by my side soon.

So, I smile back before turning my attention to her father again.

I can’t fuck this up.

42

The moment my bedroom door closes, I wrap my arms around Colton’s waist. He’s hugging me back in record time, his lips on the top of my head. He’s holding me tightly, almost desperately.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry for running and not returning your calls.”

“What did I tell you about apologizing, my sweet girl?”