“Not exactly.” Colt knew what they’d done had been a bad move, but he’d never imagined Mason would still be his kryptonite after all these years. Never imagined he’d still care, still want him. Still lo— He mentally jerked away from that thought and cleared his throat with a wince. “It had been an emotional day at the holding corrals, and . . .”
“Ignoring the part where Mason is a client we’ve been hired to protect. Notfuck.” Colt flinched at Wes’s words. “I know stubborn is your go-to, but you need to make peace with him and find closure for yourself. For both of you. Not dig a deeper hole.”
Colt started walking again, not caring if his brother kept pace this time. Wes was right. He just hadn’t found the right time.Liar, his inner voice chided.
Wes was quiet until they reached the courtyard, their bootheels laying down a dull bass beat in the twilight orchestra.
“Don’t put it off any longer,” Wes ordered and stopped again. “Talk to him tonight.”
“I will.”
“I mean it, Colt.” Wes put a hand on Colt’s shoulder and gave a squeeze of encouragement.
“Don’t worry, little brother,” Colt said. “I’ll get it done.”
Wes gave him a nod and then veered off for his evening check of the grounds. Colt picked up his pace after Mason, who was now walking alone after Thad and John had parted ways for the hands’ quarters.
Mason glared at him over his shoulder when he entered the house. He didn’t hold the door for Colt so much as let it hang open so the dogs could race inside.
“Mason—”
“I have some work to do before turning in.” Mason turned his back to Colt as he pulled off his boots and then headed up the stairs to the loft office.
Colt bit back a curse as he watched Mason’s ascent. He shouldn’t have put this conversation off. Should have had it the first day he’d arrived back at Haverstall Mountain Ranch. Before he’d gone and screwed things up—first with the kiss last week, and then last night on the deck—and made it that much harder to settle the past with Mason.
But first, he needed a little something to take the edge off. He went to the kitchen and snagged a beer from the fridge. He popped the cap and swallowed back half the bottle before stopping for air. His eyes watered, and a belch bubbled up his throat. He took another swig and then put the unfinished beer on the counter.
He gave each dog a pat on the head and then headed for the loft.
Mason slanted an irritated look his way when he cleared the landing. His mouth was a flat line, eyebrows furrowed, and there was a warning in his eyes that Colt found disconcerting. Like he was the enemy.
Colt stalled for time by taking in the surroundings. He’d only been up to the office once, as it was mostly Katie up there doing her administration and fundraising work for the sanctuary and rescue, and had only done a quick scan for access points.
Now, he took in the small desk that faced the railing. Its reclaimed wood surface and black iron legs gave it a modern country vibe. There were two desktop computers on it, and on the corner was a three-level basket full of paperwork. Behind the desk, a wood filing cabinet sat against the back wall—four drawers wide and three drawers deep. Above the cabinet were framed photos of Mason and his sisters, Mason’s dad, vintage shots of the ranch, and several of horses they’d owned in the past and present, as well as wild horses on the range and before and after photos of the rescues. On the far wall was a large whiteboard covered in colorful but neatly written deadlines, to-do lists, and brainstorming ideas to improve the ranch. Hanging next to it was a large wrought-iron clock, its arms marching an endless and steady circle.
“Did you want something?” Mason asked with a hard edge to his voice.
Colt’s attention snapped to the man he’d come up here to talk to.A do-over.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath.
“We need to talk about some things.” He fought the urge to rock on his heels. Instead of apologizing for being a dick, he said, “Seemed you had something to say the other day when Cuervo was graffitied.”
Mason stared at him, his expression blank for a few seconds before it tightened with disdain, like he’d stepped in a pile of cow shit while wearing his Sunday-best boots. And Colt was that pile. He bristled.
“Doesn’t matter,” Mason finally said. There was an odd note in his voice. A mix of resignation and anger, and Colt knew full well it ran deeper than the last twenty-four hours. The elephant had been dogging Colt since the day he returned. “You won’t listen to anything I have to say, anyway. Never did.”
Never did? Colt raised his eyebrows. He freed his hands from his pockets and propped them on his hips. Sure, he’d known Mason would be mad about how Colt had acted toward him last night and this morning, but their past . . . That was all Mason.Hewas the one who’d turned his back and walked away. Not Colt.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. Confused. He’d always listened to Mason, had hung on his every word when they were younger. Even now, much to his chagrin, it was like his whole body was acutely tuned in to Mason. Every word he spoke carried crystal clear over the din.
“You ghosted me before ghosting was even a thing,” Mason continued, his words picking up speed and volume as he continued. “I didn’t deserve that. Yeah, I can own that I should have stood up to my dad that day, butfuck,Colt. I was just akid. We both were. I was scared, and you never even gave me a chance.”
Okay. So, that’s how they were starting this conversation, then. Colt had wanted to ease into their history with cooler heads, but Mason jumped right into the deep end. From a high-dive board.
AndColtwas the bad guy.
“Ghosted? Are you kidding me?” Bile burned in the back of Colt’s throat and made the words sharp. “You turned on me. You lied and told your dad I pressured you.”
