He stared unseeing up at the beam-and-plaster ceiling overhead and wondered how Penny had coped all alone for the last eight months. Hell, during her pregnancy? A stir of something that felt a lot like regret moved through him and Colt frowned to himself. Yeah, he’d missed a hell of a lot that he would never get back. But she’d been here. On her own, except for her brother—and Robert was an intern so he couldn’t have been around much—so how had she done it all?
Okay, yeah, she had been behind on her bills, but the house was clean, the kids were happy and healthy, and she was building her own business. He had to admire that even while it irritated him still that she’d never contacted him. That she refused to need him.
“Was this house built by elves?” Connor muttered. “I’m getting claustrophobia just sitting here.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Why is that so close?”
Colt sighed. “I almost knocked myself out this morning,” he admitted. “I slept on the couch and when the twins cried I jumped up, ran to their room and smacked my forehead on the door frame.”
Con held up one finger. “Excuse me? You slept on the couch?”
“Shut up.”
“How the mighty have fallen.” Con leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “Word of this gets out, your rep is shot.”
“Word of this gets out,” Colt told him, “I’ll know who to blame.”
“Point taken.” Connor leaned back in his chair again with a good-natured shrug. “So, tell me about them. What’s it been like?”
Colt laughed and speared one hand through his hair. “Let’s see. This morning they dropped my wallet into the toilet, pulled flowers from the pots on the back porch and threw blueberry yogurt onto the kitchen floor just to watch it splat.”
Connor grinned. “Sounds normal. And crazy-making.”
“You got that right,” Colt said on a tired sigh. “How the hell did Penny manage on her own? Not only did she take care of the twins, but she’s running a photography business, too. I don’t know when she finds the time to pause long enough to take photos of other people’s kids when the twins demand constant supervision.”
Con laughed outright. “Since when do you start using words like supervision?”
Embarrassed, Colt said, “Since I discovered that climbing Everest is nothing compared to giving those two babies a bath. After the yogurt incident, I threw ’em both in the tub and wound up looking like a flood survivor by the end of it.”
“And you’re loving it?”
Colt’s gaze snapped to his twin’s. “I didn’t say that.”
“Didn’t have to. Hell, nobody knows you better than I do and I can tell you’re enjoying the hell out of this. Even with all the work and yogurt trauma.”
A swell of emotion filled Colt as he thought about the twins. The snuffling sounds they made when they were sleeping, the sigh of their breathing, had become a sort of music to him now. He recognized every sound. He knew that Riley wanted to be cuddled before bedtime while Reid wanted to sprawl across his mattress, looking for the most comfortable position.
He knew that Riley loved her brown teddy bear and that Reid preferred a green alligator. He knew Riley wanted Cheerios in the morning and that Reid was interested only in bananas.
His children were real to him now. Actual people—in miniature—with distinct personalities. They had become a part of him and he couldn’t have said just when that had happened. But he did know that he wasn’t ready for this time with them to end.
“Okay then,” Connor interrupted his thoughts abruptly. “You’re living in a tiny house, taking care of tiny people and sleeping on a too-short couch. Why?”
“You know why,” Colt grumbled and wished for a second he hadn’t opened the door to his brother. Didn’t he have enough going on at the moment without Con throwing his two cents in?
“Yeah, I do. Now tell me how it’s going with Penny.”
“Frustrating,” Colt admitted, lifting his head to look at his twin. “She believes she did the right thing in not telling me.”
“Did she?”
His eyes narrowed on his brother. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Connor shrugged. “You haven’t exactly made a secret of the fact that you don’t want a family of your own.”
“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Colt sat up straighter.
Lifting both hands for peace, Connor assured him, “Yours. Obviously. But you gotta admit, she had reason to do what she did.”
He would have argued, but over the last couple of days, his anger had slowly been drained away until he could think clearly. Logically. And damn it, he could see her point of view. Didn’t mean he agreed with it, though. “Fine. She had reason. The point is, I know now and—”
“What’re you gonna do about it?”
“That’s the thing,” Colt muttered. “No idea. You and I both know those kids shouldn’t depend on me.”
“No, I don’t know that. For God’s sake, Colt, stop beating yourself up.” Connor huffed out an impatient breath. “It wasn’t your fault. We’ve all told you that countless times over the last ten years.”
“Yeah,” he said, staring at his brother. “You all have and it doesn’t change a thing. I should’ve been there. I told them I would be. If I had been...”
Darkness rose up inside him and buzzed in his head like a swarm of attacking bees. Pain jolted him. Memories were thick and for a moment or two, Colt was sure he could actually feel the bite of the snow, taste the cold on the wind. Hear screams that sounded almost nightly in his dreams. He hadn’t lived that day, but in his dreams, he did. Over and over again.
“What makes you think you could have stopped it?” Connor jumped up from the chair, stalked across the room and looked down at him. “You weren’t responsible. Let it go already.”
Colt laughed shortly. Let it go. If only it were that easy. But ten years after the darkest day in his life, the memories were still clear and sharp enough to draw blood. How could he forget? How could he ever forgive himself? How could he allow two defenseless infants to depend on him?
“You can let it go. I can’t.” He stood up, meeting his twin’s gaze with a steely stare of his own. Didn’t matter how close he and Connor were, this was something Colt had to carry on his own. Had to live with. Every. Damn. Day. And no one else would ever understand what it was like to be haunted by thoughts of what if.