Page 105 of Colt

“Well, yeah. Because this was your world. Still is.”

Dad lifts a finger. “Exactly. But once I stepped into my role as principal, I started traveling more. I could see the forest for the trees. And I knew it was time for an update. I don’t disagree with you that our strengths are our traditions and reputation.”

“No one does what we do better.”

“Yes. You’re proving my point, son. We’re the best at what we do, so the sky’s the limit. The more people know about us, the more opportunities we’re going to have. You gotta keep growing. Otherwise, you’re dead.”

I’m nodding, even as I feel a little seasick. “But that means more change. I’m not—I wasn’t sure we could handle that.”

“Not all change is bad.”

My turn to think. “Lemme walk you through what’s been going on inside my head. Not everything about the world outside is good, yeah? You gotta understand how worried I am about letting everyone down. The stress of keeping our legacy intact—it falls on my shoulders, and it’s a lot. Especially when you’re making big changes to that legacy without consulting me.”

Dad’s throat works on a swallow. “I know that feeling well. It is a lot. I’m sorry, Colt. Truly and deeply sorry I’ve added to your stress. Now that we’re talking, I regret not consulting you. I should have. But I worried…honestly, I worried you’d just worry more.”

I scoff for what feels like the hundredth time. “I always worry.”

Dad ducks his chin and gives me a look. “You’ve been keeping up with the therapy?”

“Every fuckin’ week.”

“It seems to be helping.”

Folding over, I rest my elbows on my knees and thumb at the calluses on my palm. “It does. Yes.” I look up. “But I know you think I’m still hung up on Abby. On what happened between us. The betrayal and…everything else.”

“Well, are you?”

Glancing out the window, I swallow the thickness that’s suddenly appeared in my throat. “I wanna move on. I’m working on it, obviously. But it’s”—I blow out a breath—“really fucking hard. I don’t wanna end up unhappy, and that’s where I’m gonna be if I don’t make some changes. It’s just…”

“Terrifying?”

I close my eyes against the sudden burn there and hang my head. Talk about whiplash. “Yes.”

“Since when are you afraid?” He smiles softly, like he already knows the answer to that question.

“Since forever,” I reply with a scoff. “Afraid of disappointing you and Mom and the whole family and all our ancestors.”

“No big deal.”

“Ha. Then I was afraid of hurting Abby, and now it’s Dean I worry about, and Billie and Tate and Mack and—well, you get the gist.”

Dad leans forward to put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You can handle it. Whatever’s thrown at you. I’m so proud of you for trying, Colton. So proud of the father you’ve become.”

“Thanks.” Sniffling, I lift my head. “That means a lot. But life—it’s not perfect now, but it’s manageable. Most days anyway. If we keep changing, keep growing, that might not always be the case. I hate the idea of not being able to keep up. Of disappointing everyone.”

Dad furrows his brow. “What would ever make you think you’d be a disappointment? Look at all the changes you’ve made just recently. Even when you were little, you always rose to the occasion in school. At home too. You were your mother’s best little helper. You work hard. You love harder. Trust yourself to be able to handle whatever the universe throws your way, yeah?”

I dig my elbows into my legs, just to make sure I’m not dreaming. Dad and I interact plenty. As adults, we’ve become good friends. Great friends even. Dad served as best man at my wedding, for crying out loud.

But we rarely, if ever, talk openly like this. It’s painful, but in a good way? Like the sore relief that comes after a broken bone is set.

I can’t help but think of how different the past might’ve been if Dad and I talked openly like this from the start. Would he have shared any words of wisdom about me and Abby getting married so young? Because even though he and Mom got married young too, they’ll talk about how the early days of their marriage were hard. I wonder if he would have told me to take my time settling down. To have more fun.

That’s the advice I’d give Dean anyway.

“I’d like to think I’m that man,” I reply. “That I’ll always know what the next right thing is.”

“You are. And Dean’s not gonna be little forever. It gets easier.” Dad looks me square in the eye. “And you’re not gonna be alone forever either.”