He glances around his room and it takes all of three seconds for him to notice what I’ve done and even less time to dismiss it all. “What are you doing in here?”
‘What are you doing in here?’ That’s it? The very first words he’s spoken to me in nearly two days. Geez, I could be wrong here but I thought I’d deserve a little more than that. A ‘sorry for being such an ass’ would have gone down well seeing as though the last time we actually had a conversation was when he was telling me how he needs me more than I could possibly know, how he’s madly jealous of me being with Charlie, and how the thought of me pushing him away crushes his soul.
Yet here we are not even two whole days later.
I swallow my pride and raise my chin, not letting him see how his dismissal kills me. “Someone had to come and check on you.”
“Check on me?” he scoffs, noticing the clothes laid out for him on his bed. “I don’t need your fucking charity, Jade.”
Jade. There’s that name again, the one that holds a power that I wasn’t even aware of until yesterday morning, though right now, that power seems more like a curse.
Colton starts crossing the room and I take a few steps back, desperately needing to keep my distance. “It’s not charity,” I tell him, watching as he drops his towel and grabs his sweatpants. I try not to stare, but damn, I’m only human.
His body is perfection, carved out of the strongest stone, though unfortunately for womankind, that stone went right through to his heart and soul and I’m not sure there’s a way to save him. I watch as he pulls on his sweatpants and stumbles on his feet. “Get out of here,” he says, turning his back and walking across the room to where he pulls another bottle of scotch.
“No,” I say, knowing it’s bound to bite me on the ass. “You need to sober up and get to bed. Your father’s funeral is in the morning and you can’t walk in there like this.”
He turns and his glare is sharp enough to kill. “What the fuck is it to you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He comes striding toward me and I find myself backing up a step until I realize what the fuck I’m doing and hold my ground. “What is it to you?” he repeats getting in my face, the anger rolling off him nearly enough to cripple me. “Why do you even care? Fuck off out of here.”
I slam my hands into his chest, forcing him back a step and out of my face, hating myself for what I’m about to say. “I’m not going anywhere. Get your shit together, Colton. Look at you. You’re embarrassing yourself falling apart like this. It’s fucking pathetic. You’re weak. This past month, you’ve gone out of your way to show me that you’re the fucking man. You wanted me to see that you’re strong, untouchable, and fucking incredible, but right now, you’re none of that. You’re nothing. Yeah, you lost your father, and yeah, it fucking sucks. Believe me, I know exactly how it feels but it doesn’t give you the right to fall apart and throw it all away. Your sisters are counting on you to hold it together, your father is counting on you.”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
Colton lifts the scotch to his lips while his eyes dance with the challenge, daring me to stop him. My blood boils and I clench my jaw, watching as he tries to destroy himself only I won’t stand for it.
I fly forward and grab the bottle out of his unsuspecting hands then race straight toward the bathroom. “Hey,” he demands, bounding after me. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I get to the bathroom sink and manage to pour out half the bottle before he’s on me and trying to peel the bottle out of my hands. “Leave it,” I demand. “You need to sober up and go to bed. I’m all for you making a fool of yourself here in private, but I won’t sit back and watch you destroy everything your father built publicly. Every one of his business partners will be at this damn funeral, every board member, every investor, every fucking person who means anything around here will be showing up and keeping their eyes on the Carrington heir who could potentially fuck everything up. Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what they’re going to do if they don’t think you have what it takes to walk in your father’s shoes.”
His grip on the bottle tightens and he tries to pull it into his chest but I hold on, refusing to release his stare. “Don’t think for one fucking second that I won’t search every inch of this fucking mansion and get rid of every last bottle of alcohol that I can find.”