and add to the misery.
Colt’s gaze, the same deep brown as Lola’s, stared back at him, steady and completely unreadable. For a split second Erik wondered if the other man just wanted to get him alone so he could rip him a new one without an audience.
Not that he didn’t deserve it.
“Yeah, okay.” Backing up, he gestured for Colt to lead the way. Chairs scraped across the floor behind him, and soft voices murmured. Someone flipped on the music that had stopped after he threw the first punch.
At the door, he couldn’t prevent himself from glancing behind him. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted her to be watching him leave or ignoring him like he probably deserved. But she wasn’t doing either.
Lola was gone.
* * *
ERIK STOOD BY, a little helpless, as Colt, using the door and the handle in the ceiling, levered himself up from his wheelchair and into the front seat of Erik’s truck. Erik wanted to offer to help, but wasn’t sure it would be appreciated.
Besides, it obviously wasn’t needed.
Colt pointed to his wheelchair. “Pull up on the seat and it’ll fold. Stash it in the back so we can get out of here.” He swung around to settle in the passenger seat. “We have some catching up to do.”
For the last six years, Erik had worked as a smoke jumper, taking risks and pushing himself to the brink of disaster to fight out-of-control forest fires. Because he could. Because he was damn good at it.
Because he had nothing to lose.
He’d moved around a lot, never settling with one team or in one place. He’d been in Idaho, Washington, Alaska, Montana and, most recently, California.
Over that time, he’d used the excuse that he was busy to stay away from Sweetheart, coming home mostly at holidays. He’d always managed to avoid Colt and Lola during those trips, telling himself he was there to spend time with his mom anyway.
That was a lie. He hadn’t wanted to deal with the accusation he knew would fill their expressions.
The entire drive to his place, Colt kept up a steady stream of conversation. On one hand, it felt like the last six years hadn’t even happened and they were right back where they’d always been.
And if he hadn’t just picked up the chair Colt was forced to live in, maybe Erik could have pretended. He should have stayed in California. Coming home was a stupid idea.
The pressure of all the words he wanted to say—should have said six years ago—clogged his throat. So Erik sat there, his grip on the steering wheel getting tighter and tighter. Screw his jacked-up knuckles and the pain shooting through his hands. That was nothing compared to what Colt had to live with.
How could he ever ask forgiveness for what he’d cost Colt?
He couldn’t.
If Colt noticed Erik’s brusque responses, he didn’t let on. Erik pulled into Colt’s driveway, put the truck in Park and set up his chair outside the open passenger door.
Reaching out, Colt rolled the chair close and then dropped into the seat, repositioning his legs. Colt had always been a strong guy, but even Erik had to marvel at the flex of his biceps.
“Jesus man, what do you bench these days?”
Colt laughed. “More than I used to.”
“Obviously.” Erik shifted uncomfortably on his feet, about to make his escape. Before he could, Colt started rolling away.
“Get your ass in here and have a beer. And some ice. I bet your hand is throbbing like a bitch.”
Erik followed. What else was he supposed to do? “I’ve had worse.”
“Yeah, like the time you wrecked that piece of shit motorcycle you bought off the internet.”
God, he’d forgotten about that. It really had been a piece of shit, but he’d planned to repair it. The bike could have been amazing...if he hadn’t run it off the road on the way home, smashing it into a tree. He hadn’t been seriously injured, but the bike was toast.
Colt, who had been following behind him, picked up the pieces and drove him to the hospital. And he kept the truth from Erik’s mom, who hadn’t wanted him to buy a bike in the first place.
Those were the days. When he had a brother backing him up. Not that he didn’t get along with the guys he worked with now, but it wasn’t the same. You couldn’t replace the kind of history he’d shared with Colt.
Colt didn’t bother stopping to give Erik the grand tour, just wheeled straight to the side-by-side freezer, tossed him a bag of frozen peas without even looking and then snagged two beers.
The peas felt good on the back of his hand. But the cool beer flowing down his throat felt better.
Although he nearly spit the mouthful back out again when Colt said, “This is the point in the evening’s entertainment when I tell you to get your head out of your ass.”
“Excuse me?”
Colt gave him a pointed stare. “First, whatever you keep thinking when you look at me, forget it. Me being in this chair is not your fault.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it isn’t. I made my own choices that night, Erik, knowing full well the risks involved. I agreed to those risks every time I went into a burning building.”
“But you shouldn’t have been there. You wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t gone in after Chief gave the order to pull back.”
Colt rolled across the kitchen floor, wheels squeaking softly against the hardwood. “Come here.”
“What?”
“Come here.” He crooked a finger.
With a shake of his head, Erik leaned down and yelped when Colt smacked him in the back of the head.
“What the hell?” he asked, rubbing the spot.
“Someone needs to knock some sense into you. You know me better than that. Always have. If you hadn’t gone back into that building, I would have. I wasn’t about to leave another boy without a dad if there was something I could do about it. Just like you.”
A jolt rocked through Erik. His hands clenched. And a weight he’d been carrying for so long finally...fell away.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He needed to say the words. Maybe not for Colt, but for himself.
“Yeah, man. I know. What happened sucked, but it was an accident. I’ve found peace and purpose in it. I’m about to graduate with my master’s in psychology. My plan is to help people deal with difficult situations like mine. I’m good. I promise. You, on the other hand, are in a world of trouble.”
Wait. Hadn’t they just cleared the air?
“What
