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Heart hammering, I grip the bat tight, and before I can chicken out, I say, “Colton, hi.”
Colton’s head snaps up. It’s fleeting, but I see the shocked fear skitter across his boyish face. “Miss Ruby, hey. How goes it?”
My throat constricts.
What am I doing?
Colton could have meant to kill me that night, and here I am, up close and personal. But it’s too late to back out now. Swallowing down my nerves, I take a step toward him and force a bright smile.
“You think I could get another photo for Instagram?” I chirp. “I need to pair a quote with a cowboy.”
Straightening up, he fumbles with the pitchfork as if it weighs more than him. He’s angled his hat so the left side of his face is in shadow.
“I don’t know.” A nervous laugh squeaks out of him. “I’m sure you could get someone better. What about Sam? Hang on, I’ll get him.”
He starts for the door, but I stick the bat out, blocking his exit route. “Colton, wait.”
He freezes, and I notice the clench of his fists. My stomach turns, but I force myself through my fear. I move closer, but keep watch on the open door, in case I need to run or get away. I take low and shallow breaths, hoping to calm my rapid heartbeat.
“Take off your hat,” I tell him softly.
He manages a dry laugh. “What?”
I nudge his chest with the bat, willing my hands not to tremble. “Do it.”
To his credit, he doesn’t run. His hands move, and then he’s dragging the Stetson off his head. His black eye shines.
“You did it,” I breathe, more wondering than accusatory. My gaze falls to his belt buckle. “You attacked me.”
All the wind goes out of him. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He drops the hat, his face twisting into a grotesque mask of regret. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to scare you. But then you fainted and wouldn’t wake up.” A sob racks his body. “I thought I had killed you.”
Despite what he’s done, sympathy wells inside of me.
“Why?” I ask, my mouth going dry. “Why would you do this?”
“Because.” He swallows like the explanation’s stuck. His eyes are wild, his mind elsewhere. Tearing his hands through his blond hair, he sinks into a squat. “I’m dead. I’m fucking dead.” His voice shakes with desperation. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
I crouch beside him and meet his terrified gaze. My pulse is deafening in my ears, but I force a deep breath. “What was supposed to happen?”
Colton’s head drops and he covers his face with his hands. “Please don’t ask me that,” he pleads.
“That woman,” I muse, remembering the matching belt buckles and putting two and two together. “The woman from the video that got Ford into trouble. She’s your mother, isn’t she?”
A strangled moan rips out of him. “Fuck, he’s gonna kill me.”
“I won’t let Charlie hurt you,” I say earnestly. “He might get a swing or two in, but he won’t kill you.”
I hope.
Charlie.
He’s going to be so, so pissed at me.
“I’m not afraid of Charlie,” Colton rasps, squeezing his eyes shut and taking deep gulping breaths. “I deserve it. I deserve whatever he gives me. If he kills me, I’d be better off for it.”
I frown. “Then who are you afraid of?”
He shudders. “My father.”
