Please, God, no.

“I didn’t,” he said.

“Colt, I saw you, you were moving on top of her and you were kissing.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, stepping away, pulling his hand from hers.

He thought back to the party.

It’d be easy to slip someone a mickey. So many people, so much booze, pot, it was a crush, a daze. He had no doubt he’d set his drink somewhere and went back to it later. Or handed his glass to someone who was offering to get him a refill.

Date rape drugs weren’t prevalent back then but people had been finding ways to slip a mickey for over a hundred years, probably longer.

“Colt?”

He opened his eyes again. “You didn’t see that, Feb.”

“I did,” she whispered.

“You’re sure?”

“Colt, why are you acting this –?”

“Answer me,” he clipped.

She nodded. “I was looking for you, asking around. Craig Lansdon told me –”

Colt’s muscles got so tight he thought they’d snap.

“Craig Lansdon?”

He watched the color leak from her face. She remembered.

Craig Lansdon was Denny Lowe’s best friend.

“No.” She reeled back, her arm out, searching for purchase. Finding none, she kept going until her legs hit the couch and she stopped.

The whole time, her eyes stayed locked with his.

“I don’t remember anything that night,” Colt told her.

“You said that before,” she whispered, the weight of understanding heavy in her voice.

“Because it’s true.”

She was still whispering and tears were shimmering in her eyes when she said, “They slipped you something.”

“Amy too.”

He watched as she visibly started shaking.

“Amy too,” she nodded, “Amy too. Oh my God,” her hands went to her head, her fingers ripping into her hair, her palms resting against her forehead, “Amy,” her eyes were glued to him, “I thought it was weird, even then, thinking…” She stopped. “You looked at me like you could see through me. Amy looked…”

She stopped talking, pulled her hands out of her hair and started running. He bolted after her and caught her in the hall but she fought him and he had to pin her against the wall to get her under control, his hands at her wrists, her hands pressed to the wall at the side of her head.

“I asked Craig,” she shouted in his face, “where you were! He said he saw you upstairs, I should go upstairs. I’ll never forget it, he said to me, ‘He’s upstairs, Feb, saw Colt upstairs. Didn’t look right, you should check on him.’ He seemed concerned. That dick!”

“Feb –”

She struggled against his hold. “Sent me up after you. Him and Denny. Those fucking dicks!” She stopped struggling and stared at him. “Ruined my life. Broke my heart. Tore me apart,” she shrieked. “And you! And Amy!”

Amy.

Colt let her go and took a step away, a big one. He felt his shoulders hit the opposite wall.

Amy had had a child. She’d had his child.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered.

“What?” Feb snapped.

“Holy fuck.”

“Colt.”

He lifted his head and looked at her. “Amy had a kid, put him up for adoption.”

He watched Feb’s head jerked back with such force, her hair flew about her shoulders at the same time he saw her body jolt.

“What?” she whispered but he didn’t hear her because that’s when he lost control.

* * *

I watched as Colt stalked into the living room, straight to his gun holster on the dining room table.

I ran after him shouting, “Colt!”

“Call your father, get him to come over, lock up after me.”

Frantic, I got between him and the door. I’d seen his face in the second before he headed to the living room and I’d seen that look on his face before.

He’d just figured out he’d been drugged against his will, violated someone at the same time he’d been violated and apparently had a child. No way was I letting him out of the house.

“Colt, stay with me,” I begged, as he shrugged on the holster and reached for his jacket, “let’s talk this through.”

“Outta my way Feb.”

I was jockeying in front of him, hands up, eyes glued to him, trying to gauge which way he’d go to dodge me as he went toward the door.

He didn’t try to dodge me, he came straight at me, my hands hit his chest and he pushed me back as he kept moving.

“Colt, where you goin’?” I asked.

“Craig Lansdon.”

“No! Colt, no.”

My back hit the door, he reached around me, put his hand to the lock and I heard it click. “Call your Dad.”

“Colt, don’t.”

Colt shoved me out of the way. I came right back, sliding between him and the partially opened door. I pushed against it with my back, closing it again before I wrapped both arms around him, holding tight.

“Stay with me,” I pleaded.

“Got a kid. A boy.”

I shook my head, fast and rough, not able to think about that just yet. “Stay with me, babe.”

“He had a hand in it. He helped take you from me, do that to Amy, do that to me, he’s gonna answer for it.”

“Colt, calm down first. Let me call Dad.”

“Get away, baby, before I set you away.”

I squeezed him tight, hard as I could, got up on my toes so my face was close to his, and begged, “Don’t do this.”

He pulled back fast, out of my arms. Then he leaned down and put a shoulder to my belly. I was up over his shoulder and Colt was across the room in a flash. He dipped his shoulder, dropped me on the couch and before I got back up and was halfway across the room he was out the door.

I followed him.

“Colt, stop!” I shouted, running across the yard.

He was in his truck and slamming the door. I hit it with both hands up, still on the run then tried the handle. It was locked.

Colt started the truck, it roared to life, his foot heavy on the gas.

At the sound I jumped away from the truck. When he backed out of the drive, I turned tail and ran to the house, locked the door behind me and ran to my phone on the kitchen counter.

I called Morrie. It took me three goes to scroll down then up when I passed his name in my phonebook then down again, my hands were shaking so hard.

I put the cell to my ear.

“Whas’ up?” Morrie asked, I’d woken him.

“Morrie, you gotta get to Craig Lansdon. I don’t know where he is, but you gotta get to him. Call Sully. Colt’s gonna hurt him.”

“What?”

“Craig and Denny Lowe slipped him a mickey. I… it was… way back, at Sherry and Sheila’s party. He… something happened. They slipped one to Amy Harris too. They had sex.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter what!” I shouted. “Denny or Craig or both of them drugged him and Amy. I caught them in the act, I thought it was something else but they were out of it.”

“Holy shit.”

“Morrie!” I screeched, out of my mind.

“I’ll call Sully, Sis, we’ll find him. Just calm down.”

“Stop him, Morrie,” I begged.

“It’ll be okay, Baby Sister. Promise.”

Then he hung up.

Then I called Dad.

Then I heard Wilson meow at me. I looked down at my cat who was looking up at me, uncertain of the state of affairs.

I scooped him up, walked to the couch, sat on it and held him to me, staring at the wall, seeing nothing, thinking of Colt saying he saw them cut Amy Harris down. I was also thinking of Denny, ruining my life, ruining Colt’s, taking everything from me, from both of us. He’d led me to Pete. He’d ripped me off the golden course of my life and shoved me down a dark path where I didn’t want to be. I’d got lost, I’d wandered. It took me over two decades to find my way home.

And Amy? She had a kid, Colt’s kid. A little boy. If Colt didn’t remember, did she? Did she wonder why she was pregnant? Wonder if she’d been raped?

And Colt, all these years, he never knew, never knew what the fuck I was talking about. Because he didn’t. And now he found this out and that, somewhere out there, he had a kid.

“Oh my God,” I whispered and Wilson curled closer, “oh my God.”

* * *

I sat there on the couch cuddling Wilson and staring at the wall for awhile.

Dad walked in and I knew it was him but I didn’t look at him.

Mom walked in and I looked at her.

Then the tears started falling.

Wilson was gone and I was in her arms, the words pouring out of me through my hiccoughing breaths, coating my tongue with acid. Mom held me, tighter, tighter, swaying gently, cooing once in awhile, whispering “honey” but for once Mom didn’t help me. The tears didn’t stop coming, or the hiccups, or the words.

“Honey, you need to calm down,” she whispered, but I didn’t, I couldn’t.

I’d lost the beautiful life I’d been meant to lead. It had been torn from me but it was my fault that that rip was never mended and I knew it. Stupid Feb, keeping it all in, holding grudges.

Worse, Colt was out there, madder than hell and I knew what he could be like when he got that mad. Everyone did. If he got to Craig before Morrie or Sully, the rest of Colt’s life could be as bleak as his father’s.

“I’ll call Doc,” I heard Dad mutter because they knew, if Mom couldn’t calm me then I was inconsolable and they were right, I was.

If I’d been coherent I would have been surprised at how fast Doc got there. One second he wasn’t there, the next second Dad and Mom got me up off the couch and Dad and Doc guided me down the hall. They laid me in Colt’s bed and I cried to Doc, whispering now, telling him all my secrets, all of Colt’s, sharing way too late.

He injected me with something and it worked quickly. He sat next to me on the bed as the peace he gave me through a syringe stole over me. He pulled up the covers and slid the hair from my forehead.

“Like I said,” he mumbled, “the dog was dead. Shoulda left him buried.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled back, a calming darkness creeping in around me, “dog was dead, Doc. Denny killed it.”

Then I was out.

* * *

I woke up on my side, my legs curled up, Wilson in a ball in the crook of my hips.

I came out of it slowly as I lay listening, hearing the murmur of voices, knowing I wasn’t alone in the house. Too many voices, all of them speaking low but I knew there wouldn’t be that many and the tone wouldn’t be that calm if something bad had happened to Colt.

It was growing late, I knew from the feel of the day. I’d been out awhile. But I didn’t get up. I lifted my hand, stroked my cat and he started purring.

I had a lot of experience with animals. We’d had dogs and cats growing up. I’d learned a long time ago both canine and feline had one thing in common. They sensed a shit storm, they weren’t the type to go running. They stuck close. The worse it got, the closer they stuck.

So I lay in bed for a long time, kept my head clear and pet my cat.

Then I got up, went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, splashed water on my face, pulled a brush through my hair and went to my bag, changed the yoga gear I’d put on that morning to a pair of jeans, belt, t-shirt.

Then I sucked in breath, went to the bed, lifted Wilson in my arms and walked out of the room.

Al was sitting at the bar, Meems beside him. The smell of Mom’s spaghetti sauce filled the air, she was at the pot stirring, Jessie had her head in the fridge.

I walked though the living room with Meems’s eyes on me. I looked to the left and saw all four of her kids lounging in front of a muted television set.

“Hey Auntie Feb!” Tyler called.

I dropped Wilson to his feet, waved at Tyler and smiled.

Kids, too, sensed shit storms and Tyler’s returning smile was cautionary. That kid loved me, all Meems’s kids did. This was because I spoiled the hell out of them and usually encouraged their bad behavior because it was never that bad and because Mimi and Al knew every kid had to have that one adult they trusted beyond anyone just in case life took them to a place where they’d need that trust and the wisdom only someone older could give. That was the brilliance of being the kidless best friend, you got all the good shit, never had to put up with the bad and the devotion that came from that was like a priceless treasure.

“Now Feb’s up, does that mean we can turn up the volume on the TV?” Meems’s oldest, Jeb, shouted.

“It’s Aunt Feb, Jeb,” Meems corrected, Jeb having decided he was now too old to call me “Aunt” and Meems having decided that she didn’t agree, a battle that obviously still raged. “And no,” Mimi finished.