Dark Sexy Knight (A Modern Fairytale) (18 page)

But as he entered the practice ring, he couldn’t miss the sound of Artie’s voice coming from the direction of Éclair’s stall, delivering an onslaught of abuse. As Colt got closer, he slowed his steps to listen.

“. . . goddamned retard. I asked you to stay the fuck away from my mount. What didn’t you understand?”

“But, Artie, it’s my job to give ’em—”

“Are you deaf
and
dumb? It’s your job to do as I say!”

“I ain’t deaf, but I got to change their water. Joe said—”

“Fuck Joe and fuck you, you moron. I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

Colt sped up, rounding the corner of the barn just in time to see Artie, at the way back of the barn, turn on the hose full blast and point it at Ryan. It was a high-pressure hose used for cleaning the stalls, and Ryan yelped as the cold water, aimed at his face, made contact with his cheeks, stinging like a thousand frozen needles.

“Stop!” yelled Colt, surging into the stable and beelining for Artie, who was grinning from ear to ear as the sharp prickles of cold water pelted Ryan’s skin.

“Have I got your attention, retard?” asked Artie, spraying the hose down Ryan’s body—at his shirt, at his crotch, all up and down his pants as Ryan shrieked and cowered. “Stay away from—”

“FUCKING STOP!”

Colt plowed into Artie with all his might, and the hose went flying from Artie’s hands as he hit the cement ground hard, landing on his backside. Colt quickly turned off the water, then turned to Ryan.

His heart clenched to see Verity’s brother crouched down beside Éclair’s stall door, covering his head with his hands, rocking back and forth as he mewled and cried.

“You’re fucking crazy, Lane!”

Colt turned around, skewering Artie with furious eyes as he advanced upon him. “I heard what you said to him. I saw what you were doing. You’re lucky I don’t fucking—”

“Ver’ty . . . Ver’ty . . . Ver’ty . . .,” keened Ryan.

Squelching the strong instinct to beat Artie to a pulp, Colt turned back to Ryan, squatting down in front of him and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, buddy. It’s all over now.”

“Ver’ty. I need Ver’ty,” he sobbed.

“How ’bout you and I try to work this out between us, huh?” he said as gently as he could with his anger swirling like a dark storm cloud inside.

“How about you tell him not to come near my fucking horse again?” demanded Artie, who was back on his feet behind Colt.

Without removing his hand from Ryan’s shoulder, Colt turned to look at piece-of-shit Artie. His voice was thick with rage. “How about you offer Ryan an apology and then get the fuck out of my sight before I rearrange your face?”

“Fuck you, Lane. And fuck you too, Gwynn,” said Artie, brushing some straw from his T-shirt.

The gathering storm inside started swirling, and Colt narrowed his eyes at Artie, his voice lethal. “Fucking. Say. Sorry.”

A bit of uncertainty slipped into Artie’s eyes.

“Stay away from my fucking mount, Gwynn,” said Artie, running a hand through his hair, “and we won’t have a fucking problem.”

Colt watched Artie stalk out of the barn, at war with himself. On the one hand, he wanted to chase after Artie and slam his fist into his face. He ached for the fight. He was spoiling for it, and fuck, Artie deserved it. But on the other hand, Verity’s brother, the “sweet place” of his sweetheart, was crouched on the ground crying, barely able to speak. In the end, Ryan’s needs won out over Colt’s fierce desire to teach Artie a lesson.

Another time
, he told himself.
Another time I’ll settle that score. Not now. Not now, while Ryan needs me.

Gently he rubbed Ryan’s shoulder. “Artie’s gone, buddy. He’s gone now.”

Ryan moved one of his hands a little and peeked out between his fingers, looking around the stable. “All gone?”

“Yeah. It’s okay. Come on.”

Colt took his arm and urged him to stand up, surveying the damage as Ryan Gwynn straightened. His clothes were drenched, and his cheeks were bright red from the sting of the hose. But it was his eyes that bothered Colt the most—they were wide and frightened and deeply confused about why Artie had unleashed such cruelty upon him.

Colt spoke gently with his hand still on Ryan’s arm, “I need you to stay away from Éclair for now, okay?”

“I gotta change his water, Colton.”

“Naw. I’ll talk to Joe. Joe can change his water, okay? I don’t want you in here anymore.”

“I’m good with horses.”

“’Course you are, Ryan, but Artie’s an asshole, and I don’t like the way he treats you. No more Éclair, you hear?”

“Okay. Bye, Éclair,” he said mournfully, looking at the chestnut horse.

“You got some dry clothes in your locker?”

“Yeah. Dry clothes. Okay.” He sniffled and reached up to backhand his nose.

“Well, you go change, and I’m going to talk to Joe. It’s going to be all right, Ryan. Just stay away from Éclair for now, okay? And let’s, uh, let’s not worry your sister about this for now. I’ll talk to Joe. I’ll take care of it, okay?”

Ryan turned to go, then looked back, offering Colt a lopsided smile. “Colton takes care of us. Colton is our friend.”

And damn if Colt’s lips didn’t twitch in the barest semblance of a smile. It wouldn’t be long before a third name was added to the list of people who made him smile . . . and two of them were Gwynns.

He didn’t mention the incident to Verity. They worked different shifts, so he hadn’t really had an opportunity. Part of him didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want to worry her. Joe had been completely understanding and agreed that Ryan should stay away from Éclair for a while, and it made Colt feel good to handle things for her, to bear some of her burden so she wouldn’t have to.

So on Tuesday morning, as she flitted around the kitchen making breakfast and packing a picnic for the zoo, Colt made the decision not to tell her what had happened. And Ryan, who was beside himself with excitement to go to the zoo, seemed to have forgotten all about it.

Colt had advised Lamont, today’s morning CM, that he’d be picking up Melody at ten o’clock, and Lamont had told Publix that Melody wouldn’t be in to bag groceries today. Because of Colt’s irregular schedule, he made such a request once or twice a month, and so far Publix had been really decent about giving Mel time off to spend time with Colt when he was available.

He found Aunt Jane’s old picnic basket in the garage, helped Verity pack it, and, once they were all dressed and ready, they got in the car to pick up Mel at Bonnie’s Place.

“How long does it take to get there?” asked Verity, buckling her seat belt.

“Twenty minutes,” answered Colt, feeling nervous. He was grateful she hadn’t asked any questions about Mel’s living situation since he’d asked for her trust on Sunday night. He just hoped that she would have an open mind about Bonnie’s Place, despite her preconceived notions about group homes.

“She knows we’re coming?”

He shook his head. “No. She thinks it’s just me.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to prepare her?”

Colt gave Verity a quick glance, his lips tilting up. “You don’t know Mel. She loves meeting new people. She wouldn’t have been able to sleep last night if I’d told her that you and Ryan were coming too. She’d have been too excited.”

Verity beamed at him. “I think I’m going to love your cousin.”

His heart swelled. “I hope so, sunshine.”

“I’m gonna be friends with Melody,” said Ryan definitively from the backseat. “She might be my second-best friend, after Joe.”

Colt nodded at Ryan in the rearview mirror. “I think she’d like that, Ryan.”

But the closer they got to Bonnie’s Place, the more Colt worried. What if Verity thought he was a terrible person for keeping Mel in a “home”? What if it changed her opinion of him since she cared for her brother in such a personal way and Melody lived somewhere else? Would she see that Bonnie’s Place was good for Mel? It allowed her independence but still kept her safe. Verity would see that, right?

He turned into the driveway, rolled down his window, and slipped his card into the reader, taking a quick moment to look at Verity’s profile as the gate slid open.

She turned to him, her eyebrows deeply furrowed. “What is this place?”

“Bonnie’s Place,” he said. “It’s a, um, a community for ment—developmentally disabled adults.”

“A
community
?” she said, her lips tightening. “You mean ‘a home.’ Behind gates.”

She didn’t say “like a jail,” but he heard her implication loud and clear.

“No,” he said softly but firmly. “I mean ‘a community.’ It’s a hybrid concept of independent living with some group home features.” She looked away from him, out the windshield. “Can you try to keep an open mind? For me?”

She whipped her head to face him, her eyes wide and churning. “I can try.”

“Thank you,” he said, resisting the urge to take her hand. He sensed that she needed a little space to make up her mind about Bonnie’s Place, and he wanted her to have it.

Sitting up straighter in her seat, she angled herself away from him, looking out the window at the manicured lawns and cheerful gardens, the tennis courts, sundries store, pool, and community center. Was it his imagination, or did her posture relax a little as he drove toward Mel’s complex? She didn’t seem as upset as he turned into the parking area at F.

After cutting the engine, he turned to her. “I’d really like for you to come upstairs and see Mel’s place, but if you’re not comfortable, I understand. I’ll just go get her and . . .”

Verity reached down and unbuckled her seat belt, then exited the car without looking at Colt.

Umm. Okay.

Colt grabbed the bag of Goldfish he kept in the glove compartment and handed it to Ryan in the backseat. “Ryan, uh, wait here a sec? We’ll be right down.”

“Okay, Colton.”

Colt opened his door and swung his body out, pushing the door closed before rounding the car. Verity stood next to the passenger door, her arms crossed over her chest, her face stern as she looked up at the building.

“Please don’t let me down,” she whispered.

And this time, he couldn’t help himself. Glancing back at Ryan, who was happily eating his crackers, he turned to Verity and took her hand, untucking it from her elbow and lacing their fingers together. He was relieved that she didn’t fight him, and even more relieved when she squeezed his fingers.

“I won’t,” he promised.

She looked up at him, her eyes so blue, it was like God had chosen the color from the sunniest summer sky he could possibly make. “Okay.”

He tugged her over to the front door and used his keycard to open it, holding the door for her. They entered the first-floor common room, where two of the residents were watching
The Electric Company
and Lamont was vacuuming the floor with earbuds on. Colt tried to look at the room through her eyes—at the worn but comfortable sofa, scratched wooden coffee table, and serviceable but clean beige carpet. There was an ivy plant on the table and framed pictures painted by the residents on the walls. It was clean and tidy, and homey. He hoped she could see it too.

“Oh. It’s Cousin Colt. It’s Cousin Colt. It’s Cousin Colt,” said Frieda, who sat on the couch beside Duane. “Cousin Colt is here. Look. It’s Cousin Colt.”

“Hi, C-C-C-Cousin C-C-C-Colt,” said Duane in halted speech, offering a huge smile that showcased his buck teeth.

“Hey, Frieda,” he said, giving her a little wave. “Hi, Duane.”

“Let’s tell Melody that Cousin Colt is here. Cousin Colt is here.”

Frieda stood up, tapping Duane on the shoulder, though his attention had gone firmly back to the TV. Lamont, who’d finally noticed Colt and Verity, switched off the vacuum and pulled out his earbuds. He wore the standard CM uniform: khaki pants and a navy blue polo shirt, but his afro seemed higher than ever today.

“Colt, my brother!” he exclaimed, offering his hand and a cheerful smile to Colt and Verity. “Man, oh, man, who is this?”

Colt smirked. “Behave.”

“She is
not
with you.”

“Yes, she is,” said Verity, giving Lamont a small grin.

“Lucky devil,” said Lamont.

“Cousin Colt. Cousin Colt. Lamont, Cousin Colt is here.”

“Yes, he is, sweet Frieda.”

“I’ll get Mel. Mel. Mel. Mel.”

“Frieda,” said Lamont, gently but firmly. “The bus will be here in—” He checked his watch. “Three minutes. I need you to go brush your teeth and get your purse. Zip it up. Put it on your shoulder. I’ll be waiting here.”

“But Cousin Colt is—”

Lamont put his hand gently on Frieda’s arm, then turned back to Colt. “Work calls. Mel’s waiting for you upstairs. Catch you on the flip side?”

Colt nodded, watching as Lamont gently ushered Frieda toward her apartment, where he’d redirect her to brush her teeth and gather her belongings together for a day at work. He turned back to Verity, watching her hawkishly as she followed Lamont and Frieda with her eyes. Finally she looked up at him.