He captured it, stole it, broke it, healed it, and forever owns it.

“I was on set working in my trailer on a scene rewrite. It had been a long night. Quin was sick and had been up all night.” He shakes his head and meets my eyes for a moment before looking back down to focus them on the band of his watch that he’s fiddling with. “I was late for a call time. I opened the door and almost tripped over him.” He takes a moment to will the tears I see welling in his eyes to dissipate. “I think I swore aloud and I saw his little figure jolt back in unmistakable fear. I know he scared the shit out of me, and I could only imagine why a child would have that type of a reaction. He refused to look at me no matter how gentle I made my voice.”

I reach over and take his hand in mine, squeezing to let him know that I know Colton’s demons without him ever revealing them. I may not know the specifics, but I have seen enough to get the gist.

“I sat on the ground next to him and just waited for him to understand that I wasn’t going to hurt him. I sang the only song I could think of.” He laughs. “Puff the Magic Dragon. On the second time through, he lifted his head up and finally looked at me. Sweet Christ he stole my breath. He had the hugest green eyes in this pale little face and they looked up at me with such fear … such foreboding … that it took everything I had not to wrap my arms around and comfort him.”

“I can’t imagine,” I murmur, going to withdraw my hand but stopping when Andy squeezes it.

“He wouldn’t speak to me at first. I tried everything to get him to tell me his name or what he was doing, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered—my missed call time, the wasted money, nothing—because I was mesmerized by the fragile little boy whose eyes told me they’d seen and experienced way too much in his short life. Quinlan was six at the time. Colton was smaller than she was so I thought he was about five. I was shocked later that night when the police told me he was eight years old.”

I force the swallow that’s stuck in my throat down as I listen to the first moments in Colton’s life when he was given unconditional love. The first time he was given a life of possibilities rather than one of fear.

“I eventually asked him if he was hungry and those eyes of his got as big as saucers. I didn’t have much in the trailer that a kid would like, but I did have a Snickers bar and I’ll admit it,” he says with a laugh, “I really wanted him to like me … so I figured what kid couldn’t be bribed with candy?”

I smile with him, the connection not lost on me that Colton eats a Snickers before every race. That he ate a Snickers bar today. My chest tightens at the thought. Was that really only hours ago? It feels like days.

“You know Dottie and I had talked about the possibility of more kids … but had decided Quinlan was enough for us. Well, I should say that she would have had more and I was content with just one. Shit, we led busy lives with a lot of travel and we were fortunate enough with one healthy little girl, so how could we ask for more? My career was booming and Dottie took parts when she wanted to. But after that first few hours with Colton, there wasn’t even a hesitation. How could I walk away from those eyes and the smile I knew was hiding somewhere beneath the fear and shame?” A tear slips over and down his cheek, the concern for his son, then and now, rolling off of him in waves. He looks up at me with gray eyes filled with a depth of emotions. “He’s the strongest person—man—that I’ve ever met, Rylee.” He chokes on a sob. “I just need him to be that right now … I can’t lose my boy.”

His words tear at places so deep inside of me, for I understand the anguish of a parent scared they’re losing their child. The deep seated fear you don’t want to acknowledge but that squeezes at every part of your heart. Sympathy swamps me for this man that gave Colton everything, and yet the numbness inside me incarcerates my tears. “None of us can, Andy. He’s the center of our world,” I whisper in a broken voice.

Andy angles his head to the side and looks over and studies me for a moment. “I fear every time he gets in that car. Every goddamn time … but it’s the only place I see him free of the burden of his past … see him outrun the demons that haunt him.” He squeezes my hand until I look back up to see the sincerity in his eyes. “The only time, that is, until recently. Until I see him talk about, worry about, interact with … you.”

My breath catches, tears well for the first time but don’t fall. After having Max’s mom, Claire, hate me for so long, the unspoken approval from Colton’s father is monumental. I hiccup a breath, trying to contain the tornado of emotions whirling through me.

“I love him.” It’s all I can manage to say. Then it’s all I can think about. I love him, and I might not ever get to really show him now that he’s admitted to feeling the same way about me. And now I stand on the precipice of circumstances so out of my control that I fear I might not ever get the chance to.

Andy’s voice pulls me from my rising panic attack. “Colton told me you encouraged him to find out about his birth mother.”

I look down and draw absent circles on my knee with my fingertip, wary that this conversation can go one of two ways: Andy can be grateful that I’m trying to help his son heal or he can be upset and think I’m trying to drive a wedge between them.

“Thank you for that.” He exhales softly. “I think he’s always been missing a piece and maybe knowing about her will help fill that for him. Just the fact he’s talking about it, asking about it, is a huge step...” he reaches out and places an arm around my shoulder and pulls me toward him so my head rests on his shoulder “...so thank you for helping him find himself in more ways than one.”

I nod my head in acknowledgment, his confession causing words to escape me. We sit together like this for some time, accepting and pulling comfort from each other when all we feel is emptiness inside.

CHAPTER 3

It’s a perfect day. Blue sky overhead, sun warming my cheeks, and not a thought on my mind. The waves crash into the sand with a soothing crescendo, roll after roll. I come here often, the place we had our first official date, because I feel close to him here. A memory, something to hold onto when I can never hold onto him again.

I wrap my arms around my knees and breathe it all in, accepting that sadness will always be a constant ache in my heart and wishing he were here beside me. But at the same time, I know I haven’t felt this at peace since he’s been gone. I might be turning a corner in my grief—at least that’s what the therapist thinks—since it’s been days without the blind panic and strangling screams that consume my thoughts and skew my grip on reality. I think that maybe after all of this time, I might be able to move forward—not on—but forward.

The lone car in the parking lot to my right catches my eye. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because the car is parked near where Colton parked the Aston Martin on our first spontaneous outing—the most expensive beach date ever—but I look, my heart hoping what my mind knows is not possible. That it’s him parking the car to come join me.

I turn to look just in time to see a figure walk up to the passenger side and lean over to talk to the driver through the open window. Something about the person causes me to rise from the sand. I shield my eyes from the sun’s glare and study his profile, suddenly feeling that something is off.

Without thinking, I start walking toward the car, my unease increasing with each step. The stranger straightens up and turns to face me for a second, the sun lighting his dark features and my feet falter, breath lost.

My dark angel standing in the light.

“Colton?” My voice is barely a whisper as my brain attempts to comprehend how it’s possible that he’s here. Here with me when I saw them load his unresponsive body on the stretcher, kissed his cold lips one last time before they laid his casket to rest. My heart thunders in my chest, its beat accelerating with each passing second as the hope laced with panic starts to escalate.

And although my voice is so soft, he tilts his head to the side at the sound of his name, his eyes filled with a quiet sadness, lock onto mine. He starts to raise a hand but is distracted momentarily when the passenger door is shoved open. He looks into the car and then back to me, resignation etching the magnificent lines of his face. He hesitantly raises his hand again but this time finishes the wave to me.

I bring my fingertips to my lips as the grief rolling off of him finally reaches across the distance and collides into me, knocks the breath clear out of my lungs. I feel his absolute despair instantly. It rips through my soul like lightning splitting the sky.

And in that instant I know.

“Colton!” I say his name again, but this time my desperate scream pierces through the quiet serenity of the beach. Seagulls fly at the sound but Colton slides into the passenger seat without a second glance and shuts the door.

The car slowly heads toward the parking lot’s exit, and I break out into a full sprint. My lungs burn and legs ache but I’m not fast enough. I’m not going to get there in time and can’t seem to make any progress no matter how fast I run. The car turns to the right, out of the lot onto the empty road, and is angled to head past me on its way south. The blue metallic paint shimmers from the sun’s rays and what I see stops me dead in my tracks.

It feels like forever since I have seen him like this. All-American, wholesome with blue eyes and that easy smile I love all too much. But his eyes never break from their focus on the road ahead.