Chapter 14 #2
“Sutton,” he whispers against my lips, my name sounding like a prayer in his mouth.
I shouldn’t want this.
I shouldn’t want him, but I do.
I so desperately do.
I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him closer, needing to feel more of him against me. My injured hand throbs faintly, but I barely register the pain through the haze of desire clouding my mind. All I can focus on is Shepherd; his scent, his taste, and the gentle way he holds me.
It’s too much, Sutton.
Don’t take it too far.
Stay in control.
I break away, just enough to breathe, my forehead resting against his. His breath fans across my face, warm and steady.
“That definitely meant something,” he whispers, his voice rough around the edges.
I laugh softly, my eyes still closed, savoring the moment before reality crashes back in.
“Yeah.” When I open my eyes, he’s watching me with such tenderness it almost hurts.
No one has ever looked at me like that. Like I’m something precious instead of something broken.
Like I matter beyond what I can do or provide.
His thumb traces a gentle path along my jawline, and I find myself leaning into his touch like a cat seeking warmth. “You know you’re safe here, right?” he asks quietly. “With me?”
The question hits me in a tender spot I didn’t even know I had.
Safe.
When was the last time I felt truly safe?
I can’t remember.
“I’m starting to believe that,” I admit.
He smiles, and it transforms his entire face. “Good.”
“Shepherd, I…” My stomach flutters as I try to put my feelings into words. I don’t want to say something stupid and I don’t want him to think I’m pushing him away after I just kissed him again.
“It’s okay.” He tips my chin with his finger. “Whatever it is, I’m here.”
“I just…I don’t know if I’m ready for…fast.”
He smooths a few strands of my hair back from my forehead. “Am I pushing you too fast now?”
My brows pinch and I shake my head. “No, not at all. You’re…you…you’re weirdly respectful.”
He chuckles lightly. “I’ll take weird. Were you hoping for something else?”
“No. It’s just…not what I’m used to…I guess.”
He studies my face with an intensity that makes me want to look away, but I don’t. “What are you used to?”
I swallow hard, the weight of past relationships pressing down on me. “Men who expect more. Men who take and never give. Men who…” I trail off, unable to finish the thought.
Men who think no equals yes.
Men who say I’m just a waitress…
“I’m not those men,” he says quietly. “Please hear me when I say that because I mean it.”
“I know.” I swallow hard, trying not to let him see how much his compassion affects me. The fact he thinks respect and kindness should be normal makes my chest ache. “I just meant—”
“I know what you meant.” His thumb brushes my cheek again.
“And for what it’s worth, there’s no timeline here.
No expectations. We can go as slow as you need.
I’m not going anywhere.” He bobs his head and cringes slightly.
“Well, I mean as long as you want me around I’m not going anywhere.
I just…like being around you. You make me feel…
normal. Like I don’t have a very public job where everyone has an opinion about where I should be or what I should be doing. ”
I take a deep breath but glance away when I tell him, “You make me feel…less like a street rat and more like a person who actually means something.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He takes my good hand in his. “Is that what you think of yourself, truly? You see yourself as a…a street rat?”
I look down at our joined hands, uncomfortable with the earnestness in his eyes.
Being seen this clearly makes my skin itch.
“I mean, compared to all this…” I gesture vaguely around his beautiful home with my bandaged hand, wincing when the movement pulls at my stitches.
“It’s just reality, Shepherd. I work in a bar.
I volunteer at a food pantry that ran out of food and I had to turn people away.
I’m about to be homeless because my landlord just sold our building and we have three weeks to relocate or be on the street, and I just had to get stitches from your team doctor because I can’t afford a hospital visit. That math isn’t complicated.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt me. He just waits, letting me get it all out.
“People like you and people like me don’t usually…” I trail off, not sure how to finish that thought without sounding pathetic.
“Don’t usually what?” he prompts gently. “Get along? Care about each other? See each other as equals?”
“All of the above,” I mutter.
“Sutton,” he says, and there’s something in his voice that makes me finally meet his eyes. “You are extraordinary.”
I snort before I can stop myself. “Right.”
“I mean it.” His expression is so earnest it hurts to look at.
“You work harder than anyone I’ve ever met.
You care about people—like at the food pantry—when it would be easier not to.
But at the same time, you don’t take shit from people.
It’s one of the things I admire about you.
You see beauty in broken things when most people would throw them away.
” He pauses. “That’s not nothing. That’s everything. ”
Something hot and tight coils in my chest, and I have to blink rapidly to keep from crying.
“Stay with me.” The offer comes out of his mouth like a jack-in-the-box.
“What?”
“Stay. Here. With me,” he says again. “You said you have three weeks to find somewhere new, so stay here. I have plenty of room.”
I shake my head adamantly. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not? It makes sense. You need a place and I have one.”
“Shepherd, no. I’m sorry, but that’s not the upgrade I’m quite ready for.”
“Alright,” he says easily. “Then…stay in the guest house.”
I freeze. “The what?”
“My guest house.” He gestures vaguely toward the backyard like it’s nothing. “It’s out back and it’s completely separate from this house. You’ll have space and privacy and I promise I won’t bother you.”
My gaze flicks toward the window but I can’t see anything beyond the rain and darkness.
“I can’t—”
“You can,” he says gently. “Nobody has ever stayed in it before. It’s literally just taking up space and it would be perfect for you. I’ll make it perfect for you. However you want.”
I square my shoulders. “I’m not taking handouts.”
“Okay.” He meets my eyes calmly. “Then pay rent.”
That knocks the air right out of my argument. “What?”
“Pay rent,” he repeats. “If that’s what you need to feel okay about it.”
Suspicion floods in first. Then relief that I absolutely refuse to show, followed by my stupid curiosity. “How much?” I ask.
“We’ll figure it out,” he says, his warm hands soothing my tired arms. “Something fair. Something that lets you breathe.”
My throat tightens again and I look away before he can see it.
“There’s no way I can afford it, Shepherd.” The words are barely above a whisper. “So thank you but no thank you.”
He exhales heavily. “You know you can be so stubborn sometimes, Price.” The use of my last name pulls my attention and I glance up to find his piercing stare and dumbfounded smirk.
“I don’t care if you ever give me a fucking dime,” he says with a laugh.
“I won’t let you be homeless. That’s non-negotiable.
I only offered to accept rent to win this argument but instead, how about an ultimatum? ”
My stubbornness does indeed rear it feisty head as I narrow my eyes and say, “What kind of ultimatum?”
He stands tall and crosses his arms over his chest. “You either stay in my guest house where you’ll be free to go about your day however you want with all the privacy and safety you need for the price of one dollar a day…”
“That’s thirty dollars a month! Are you crazy?”
“I just might be, yes, but you seem to like crazy so here I am.”
I cock my brow. “Or? What’s my apparent other option?”
“Or you have all those same amenities, but you stay with me. Here. In this house.”
I swallow hard, trying to process what he’s offering.
A place to live.
My own space.
Safety.
It sounds too good to be true. And in my experience, things that sound too good to be true always are.
“Why?” I ask, the question barely audible.
“Why what?”
“Why would you do this?” My voice grows stronger. “In all seriousness, you barely know me.”
Shepherd takes a step back, giving me space to breathe. He leans against the counter, his posture relaxed but his eyes intense.
“I know enough,” he says simply. “I know you work hard. I know you care about people who others forget about. I know you see value in things most people discard.” His voice softens. “And I know what it’s like to worry about where you’re going to live or where your next meal is coming from.”
That catches me off guard. “You do?”
He nods, a shadow passing over his face.
“I told you about what my life was like growing up. My parents did everything they could to hide it from us, but I knew. I overheard the conversations, saw the letters from the bank. I’ve known what the word foreclosure means since childhood, and not because it was in a spelling bee. ”
Something in his expression shifts, a vulnerability I haven’t seen before.
His eyes drop to the floor briefly, and I realize there’s more to Shepherd Haynes than the calm, confident quarterback everyone sees.
“We got through it,” he continues, “but I remember that feeling. The uncertainty. Not knowing if tomorrow you’ll still have a roof over your head.
” He looks back up at me, his gaze steady.
“Nobody should have to live with that fear if they don’t have to. ”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “And nobody knows this about you? Is it something you keep a secret?”
“Most people don’t know,” he replies with a small shrug.
“Because it’s not something I talk about much.
I don’t want to bring any embarrassment onto my parents but they would tell you just the same.
I remember what it feels like to lie awake wondering where you’ll go if the worst happens.
I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially not someone I—” He stops himself, his eyes meeting mine. “Someone I care about.”
The unspoken word hangs between us.
Someone I like.
Maybe someone I could love.
I look down at my bandaged hand, at the white gauze wrapped neatly around my palm.
Evidence of how quickly he stepped in when I needed someone.
No questions asked. No strings attached.
I bite my lip, torn between my desperate need for stability and my even more desperate need to maintain independence.
“I’ll pay more than a dollar a day,” I say finally. “That’s ridiculous.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Fine. Two dollars.”
“Shepherd, be serious.”
“I am being serious.” He steps closer again, but not so close that I feel crowded.
“Look, we can figure out the details later. Just say yes so you can finally relax and know you’re going to be okay.
And so I can know you’re going to be okay.
I know I can’t fix everything, nor do you need me to, but I can fix this.
I can offer you a place of your own for as long as you need it…
for the low, low price of two dollars a day. ”
A laugh bubbles out of me despite everything. “Two dollars a day is still ridiculous.”
“Two-fifty then. Final offer.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, and something warm unfurls in my chest.
I should say no. I should walk away right now before I get in any deeper with this man who keeps proving he’s nothing like what I expected. But where would I go? Back to an apartment that won’t be mine in three weeks?
“The guest house,” I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m paying actual rent. Not whatever charity amount you’re suggesting.”
“We can negotiate anything you want.” Relief washes over his face. “But you’re exhausted,” he says gently. “You’ve had a hard day and you still haven’t eaten so how about we relax and have some dinner and then we can talk.”
“Okay,” I murmur.
“Okay?”
I nod. “Okay. Thank you, Shepherd.”
His hand cups the side of my face and he places a tender kiss on my forehead. “I would do anything for you, Sutton.”
And for maybe the tenth time today, I feel something shift inside me.
It’s not relief and it’s not exactly hope, but something close enough that I don’t shove it away immediately.
Maybe survival doesn’t always mean doing everything alone.
Maybe sometimes it means letting someone stand beside you while the storm passes.
One step at a time.
One breath at a time.
And maybe…if I’m brave enough…
One small piece of trust at a time.