Crazy For You by Alexander, S.B. (love story novels in english TXT) 📗

“Not yet. I’ll see what Colton can do first.” I prayed he could fix it. “So did you aspirate earlier?” I wanted to change the subject. The more we talked about Colton, the more my stomach twisted.

“Don’t worry about me,” he typed.

I huffed. “I will. I don’t want to lose you, Dad.” I knew that was an odd statement, given that he would die sooner rather than later, but I wanted him around as long as possible. I at least wanted him to see me graduate.

He turned red as he frowned, his bottom lip quivering.

I grabbed his cold hand. “Don’t start. It’s No-Crying Tuesday.” I smiled even though I was gutted inside and ready to bawl again.

He began typing. “My sister sent me a message today. She’ll be here on Saturday.”

Well, crap. I’d kind of forgotten about her. My stomach tumbled, and a nauseous feeling settled inside.

The doorbell rang. I was tempted to answer it to avoid the subject, but Nan would beat me to it.

My pesky nerves were dancing up a storm as footsteps clamored down the hall. Nan laughed at something Colton said.

His deep voice was smooth as silk and causing all kinds of goosebumps to pop to attention on my arms. When he sauntered in, he seemed taller and bigger than I remembered. Or maybe the ceiling was too low for his height. His tattered jeans hung low on his hips, and his Blue Oaks High T-shirt stretched across his muscled chest. His hair was damp from a recent shower, I imagined, and he had the beginnings of scruff along his jaw.

The word “yum” blared in my head, and I had to stifle a moan.

He ambled up to Dad with his arm extended. “Mr. Lawson, good to see you again.”

“My dad can’t shake hands.”

Colton lowered his arm with a smidge of confusion swimming in his gaze.

I didn’t know how much he knew of ALS, or what his mom had told him. “He has no use of his hands anymore.”

Colton's features relaxed, and sadness flashed in his eyes. That was a typical reaction when anyone met Dad.

Dad typed in, “Nice to see you too. Are you happy to be home?”

Colton winced at Dad’s question. “I miss my friends.” Then he regarded me. “I’m sorry I hit your daughter with my truck. She came out of nowhere.”

My breath hitched, and I shook my head at Colton.

He bit his bottom lip. “You didn’t tell him?”

Nan, who had been quiet up until then, cleared her throat as she pushed off the door. “I need to reposition your dad in bed. I made some iced tea. Why don’t you and Colton get some?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dad’s stern look as he entered words into his speaking program.

Nan placed her hand on my shoulder. “Go. You can explain later.”

I was grateful for Nan and how she was trying to downplay the situation, but I wasn’t moving. I knew better. It was one thing to avoid tough conversations about the future, which I knew Dad understood. But getting hit by a car wasn’t something Dad would brush off or take lightly.

“Skye, what is Colton talking about?” Dad asked.

I might as well get this over with. “I’m fine, Dad. It was nothing.”

“Is that how you hurt your elbow?” Nan asked, seemingly forgetting that she was trying to come to my rescue.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How many times have I told you to be careful and pay attention? Did you have your earbuds in?” Dad asked.

I couldn’t remember if I did or didn’t, so I shrugged. “I don’t think so. It’s just a scratch, Dad.” I kept my voice soft. I didn’t want to argue. Normally I would have. Dad and I had had several arguments about skateboard safety.

Dad narrowed his eyes. Even though he couldn’t reprimand me in his hard tone, I knew better. Just that fatherly look made me hear his words as if he were speaking. “Young lady, how many times have I told you?”

I hadn’t fallen at the skate park or outside in the driveway. I’d gotten hit by a truck—or rather tapped, which was the way I looked at it.

Colton rescued me. “It was my fault, Mr. Lawson.”

Dad was busy typing with his eyes. “Admirable, son. But my daughter knows not to skate around traffic or cars.”

I hung my head briefly, ashamed that Dad was scolding me in front of Colton. Georgia would have been no big deal, but a boy—and one I had a crush on—was horrifying.

“Randall,” Nan said. “Let’s get you ready for the night.”

That was my cue to leave. I blew Dad a kiss, then eyed Colton, giving him a silent message to follow me.

But he didn’t budge.

“Colton,” I said.

His six-foot-plus frame seemed frozen like a statue. “I’m sorry, sir.” The undertones in his voice led me to believe he was not only sorry for hitting me, but for Dad’s ALS.

“Colton,” I said again, but the computer voice filled the room.

“Can you help Skye change the oil on her car?” Dad asked.

Colton lowered his shoulders, which had been almost up to his ears. “Yes, sir. Maybe not tonight, though.”

“Perfect. Whenever you can,” the computer voice said.

Every fiber in me wanted to take that voice and throw it out the window. I should have been used to it, but I wasn’t. Not in the freaking least. I wanted to hear Dad’s voice. I would give anything for that.

“Go,” Nan said to Colton. “I need to take care of Mr. Lawson.”

Colton gave them a quick nod before his long legs ate up the space between us. Then he placed his hand on my lower back, and I thought I would melt as my mouth became bone-dry.

I was about to be alone with Colton Caldwell, and I was sure I would be a blubbering idiot.

9

My two-car garage was extremely confining and suffocating even though the space was large. We only had one car, and it was outside.

Colton glanced around as if cataloging what he wanted to