Chapter 13 #2
Jamal interrupts, friendly but firm. “I don’t care what you are. I’m not sending you into the world with a busted hand because you’re stubborn.”
Sutton’s mouth tightens like she wants to argue. I squeeze her fingers once to remind her everything is fine and she stops.
Jamal glances at me like he approves, then starts cleaning up. “You good, Shep?”
I nod. “Yeah. I appreciate it.”
Jamal steps closer and playfully adds, “This one’s going to keep you on your toes. You better be good to her.”
Translation: This girl looks beat down. Don’t fuck it up and make it worse for her.
“She already does. And I promise.”
Because being good to her isn’t the same as fixing her, and Sutton doesn’t need a man who thinks he can fix her. She needs a place to land. She needs kindness and compassion and support. That’s different. Those are all things I’m more than capable of providing.
We say our goodbyes to Jamal and I guide Sutton out of the exam room, my hand at her back. In the hallway, her shoulders sag, exhaustion crashing in now that pain and adrenaline have eased.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
She lets out a humorless breath. “Define okay.”
“How about for now, we define it as still breathing.”
“Barely.”
I nod like that’s fair. When we reach the lobby, she stops suddenly, staring at the Rush logo on the wall like it’s mocking her.
“This is ridiculous,” she whispers.
“What is?”
“Me. Being here. You doing this. All of it.” Her throat bobs. “I’m not…I’m not your responsibility.”
I step closer, keeping my tone gentle and certain. “You’re right.” Her eyes widen, like she expected a fight, so I continue, “You’re not my responsibility.”
She exhales sharply, relief and hurt colliding in her expression. “But I’m still going to help you,” I add calmly, “because I want to.”
Her lips part and she looks like she might cry, but instead, she looks away and mutters, “That’s…annoying.”
I smile a little. “I get that a lot.”
“I could use a restroom. Is there one nearby?”
I point just down the hall from where we’re standing. “Right down there on the left-hand side. Can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.”
While she’s in the restroom, I pull out my phone and make a quick call to the one person I know who might be able to help with one of the other issues Sutton mentioned.
Mackenzie Adams, the team’s head chef, picks up on the second ring. “If you’re calling to ask me for a last-minute gluten-free menu again, the answer is no.”
I rub my forehead. “It’s not about gluten, Mack.”
There’s a moment of silence between us before she says, “Okay…why do I hate the tone of your voice?”
“I need a favor. A big one.”
“Oh. Right. You’re one of those men. What’s it going to be this time?”
“Mackenzie.”
“It’s fine,” she sighs. “Just say it.”
I keep my voice low and controlled. “Portland Pantry is in desperate need of stock. They had to turn people away today. Do you have anything you can get over there? Food, supplies, whatever you can spare. I’ll pay any price.”
Her tone shifts immediately. “How fast do you need it?”
“Tonight, if possible.”
“Done.” There’s no hesitation. “I can send a delivery through the team kitchen and one of the supplier trucks. We’ll get them produce and protein. Dry goods too if I can. I’ll call in a couple favors.”
“I knew you would come through for me. Thank you, Mack.”
“Don’t thank me,” she says briskly. “It’s what we do for our community.”
“Yeah.”
“Hey Shep?”
“Yeah.”
Her voice softens, just a fraction. “This about Sutton?”
“How do you know about her?”
“Bishop told me.”
Fucking brothers…
“He stopped by a little bit ago to help me tear down from the tasting. Said he went to the bar to meet up with you, but your girl got injured and you carried her out. She okay?”
I glance down the hall where Sutton is grabbing a drink from the water fountain.
“Yes,” I say honestly. “This will help.”
Mackenzie exhales. “Okay. I’ll handle the pantry. No worries.”
“And she doesn’t need to know this was me, alright? As long as the pantry is stocked that’s all I care about.”
“Sure thing.”
“Thank you.”
“And Shepherd?”
“Yeah.”
“If you ever tell Kyler I have a heart, I’ll deny it.”
A faint smile tugs at my mouth. Mackenzie Adams is every bit as stubborn as Sutton is and I know that’s because she grew up with two diva-like athletic brothers. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Everything okay?” Sutton asks carefully as she approaches from down the hall.
“Yeah,” I say, pocketing my phone. “Just taking care of something.”
She narrows her eyes. “That’s vague.”
“I’m a vague man.”
“That’s not true,” she says immediately. “You’re annoyingly precise.”
The fact that she knows that about me—that she’s paid attention—lands somewhere deeper than it should.
I keep my expression steady. “Let’s get you home.”
Her mouth tightens. “I should go back to work.”
I blink once. “You just got stitches.”
“It’s my shift,” she says quickly. “Cal can’t cover the whole bar, and I already caused a scene and—”
“Sutton.”
She freezes. Not because I raised my voice but because I used the tone. The one that means I’m not joking. “You’re not going back to work tonight.”
Her chin lifts immediately. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“No,” I agree calmly. “I don’t.” She looks momentarily thrown by the lack of argument. “But I do get to point out,” I continue evenly, “that you’re exhausted, you’ve been bleeding for the last half hour, and you nearly passed out in the middle of the bar.”
“I did not—”
“You ran straight into me like a linebacker,” I say. “Which I’m honored by, by the way. But that’s not exactly a sign you’re having a great day.”
Her lips press together. “I think you’re being overdramatic.”
Rain taps softly against the windows behind us while I wait for her to reach the right conclusion.
“I’ll be fine,” she mutters.
I study her for a moment, the stubbornness, the exhaustion.
The way she’s holding herself together with sheer willpower.
Then I take one slow breath and step a little closer to her.
Not to crowd her, but enough that she has to look at me.
“Sutton,” I say quietly, “you don’t have to be fine right now. ”
Her jaw tightens. “Yes, I do.”
“No,” I say gently. “You really don’t.”
She laughs, but it comes out brittle. “That’s easy for you to say.”
“Yeah, maybe it is.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to need every shift, Shepherd. Every dollar. You don’t know what it’s like to—”
“Exist without heat for several days because the electricity got shut off and your parents don’t want you to know it’s because they couldn’t pay the bill?
” I say, nodding. “Yeah. I know that feeling. And I also know the feeling of being hungry as fuck because Dad’s paycheck had to go toward all the outstanding bills and there wasn’t enough for anything other than oatmeal or peanut butter and jelly.
” My tone softens and I exhale a deep breath.
“And I also know what it looks like when someone’s about to run themselves into the ground. ”
Her words stop and she searches my face like she’s trying to find the angle.
“I promise you there isn’t one,” I tell her, desperate for her to believe me.
“What?”
“No angle. No catch. No lecture.” I slide my hands into my pockets so she can see I’m not trying to grab or steer her anywhere. “I just…I like you, Sutton.”
The words hang between us in the quiet hallway. A simple, honest confession. “And because I like you,” I continue, calm and steady, “I’m not going to watch you limp back into a bar tonight pretending everything’s fine.”
She swallows. “That’s not—”
“It sounds like you just had one of the worst days of your life,” I say gently. “You’re hurt. You’re overwhelmed. And you’re still trying to go back to work.” I tilt my head slightly. “That’s fucking impressive.”
Her eyes glisten.
“But it’s also ridiculous.”
A small, startled laugh escapes her before she can stop it. Maybe that’s progress.
“So, here’s what’s going to happen,” I say calmly.
Her eyes narrow again. “That sounds suspiciously like you deciding things.”
“Relax,” I say. “You still have veto power.”
She crosses her arms. “I’m listening.”
“You’re coming to my place for dinner. I will cook us something or if you would rather order out, I can do that too.”
When she doesn’t immediately deny me, I continue. “From there you are free to rest and relax. Or you can talk out your day and I’ll listen to every word.” I shrug. “Or you can ignore me entirely if you want to. Either way is fine, but at least I’ll know you’re safe, you’re warm, and you’re fed.”
Her eyes glisten as she silently considers my offer. “It has been a super shit day.”
I brush a few strands of her hair back from her face, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry for that. Truly, I am. I don’t like seeing you in pain.”
Her hesitation flickers. “Just dinner?”
Hope blooms inside my chest. “Just dinner,” I repeat. “Just food and relatively friendly company and…maybe just one night where you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
She sighs like she’s losing a battle she simply doesn’t want to fight anymore. “Okay. Fine.”
“Yeah?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
I open the door for her, the cool rain-scented air rushing into the building. She hesitates only half a second before stepping out beside me and for just a few minutes I’m grateful.
Grateful she’s not running.
Grateful she’s not going to be alone.
Grateful she’s letting someone walk with her for once.
Grateful that someone is me.