Chapter 24
SUTTON
Ihate this.
I hate all of this.
The noise. The chaos. The way everyone is still celebrating like nothing just happened. Like I didn’t just watch Shepherd Haynes get absolutely leveled on the field a few plays ago.
My fingers tighten around the plastic cup in my hand until it crinkles, ice shifting loudly inside.
“At least he got up,” someone says behind me. God, I want to turn around and scream in their faces that doesn’t mean he’s fine! It doesn’t mean ANYTHING!
But I don’t.
Instead, I bite my tongue while replaying the whole thing in my head over and over again. The snap, the throw, the hit he didn’t see coming.
Fuck.
I felt it the moment it happened like it was happening to me. My stomach twists as I shift my feet. I just want to make sure he’s okay.
I need to make sure he’s okay.
“You know, you’re going to make yourself sick if you keep replaying it like that.”
I glance over at Killian leaning against the railing like this is just another day, arms crossed, his expression annoyingly calm.
“He looked fine,” Bishop adds, standing beside him, though his eyes seem sharper. More observant.
“He didn’t look fine,” I argue.
“He finished the drive,” Killian says.
“That doesn’t mean—”
“He’s getting checked out,” Bishop cuts in, gentler. “Seb’s not going to let him leave until he knows for sure everything is fine. It’s standard protocol, I promise.”
Protocol.
I hate that fucking word because it means this happens enough to have a system for it. I set the cup down on the nearest surface before I throw it.
“I want to see him.” The words come out before I can stop them.
Probably too fast and definitely too honest. Both of Shepherd’s brothers notice because of course they do. Killian’s mouth twitches like he’s trying not to say something smart. Bishop doesn’t even try.
“Yeah,” he says. “We figured.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”
“Too late,” Killian mutters.
I sigh. “Can you get me back there or not?”
Killian pushes off the wall. “Of course we can. Come on.”
I nod. “Good. Yes, thank you.”
I follow the guys inside the stadium and down the stairs to the private access elevator.. The noise fades, the chaos shifts, and everything feels tighter. More controlled. My heart is beating way too fast the closer I get to Shepherd.
What if he’s actually hurt?
What if he—
No.
Stop.
I don’t do this.
I don’t spiral.
I don’t panic over someone like this.
But this isn’t just someone.
This is—
We turn a corner and there he is. Walking down the hallway toward one of the exam rooms, helmet gone, hair damp with sweat, one hand pressed briefly to his ribs like he thinks no one’s looking.
My chest clenches because even when he isn’t at his best, even when he’s in physical pain and vulnerable, he’s beautiful and I want nothing more than to be with him.
“See? He’s fine,” Killian murmurs under his breath, but I don’t answer because I’m already moving.
“Shep,” Bishop calls.
He turns and the second his eyes land on me everything else disappears. The tension in his shoulders softens like he didn’t realize he was carrying it until just now.
“Sutton.” My name comes out rougher than usual and that does something to me.
“You’re hurt,” I say immediately, stopping a few feet in front of him.
He huffs out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You got blindsided.”
“It’s part of the job.”
“That doesn’t make it okay,” I tell him, reaching for his face. “I just…you scared me, Shepherd.”
His eyes flick over my gaze, taking in everything I’m trying—and failing—to hide. Then the corner of his mouth lifts slightly and he brings a hand to my waist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to scare you. Are you okay?”
I blink. “Me? I’m not the one who just got hit by a truck.”
“You still watched it.” That lands a little harder than it should.
“I’m fine,” I say.
He tilts his head slightly, not convinced.
He’s never convinced.
He’s always worried about me., but he’s the one who took the hit today.
“Seb wants me checked out,” he says, nodding toward the exam room where his brother is waiting in the doorway, arms crossed. “I promised.”
“Good,” I fire back. “You should be checked out.”
He grins. “Yes, ma’am.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Be charming about this.”
He chuckles and I notice the slight wince. “I’m not being charming.”
“You are.”
“It’s natural. I can’t help it.”
I stare at him and he smiles and somehow that makes it even worse. “Does it hurt?” I ask, quieter now.
His expression shifts. “A little,” he admits.
My chest tightens again and dammit, I hate that.
I hate that I feel something. I hate that I care…
or maybe…no, that’s not right. I want to care, but caring means I could lose something important to me.
Caring means I could break all over again and I’m not sure I could endure the loss of someone like Shepherd Haynes.
He’s been my safe space every time I’ve needed one.
He’s let me call the shots when he’s the one who is meant to lead.
The feelings I have for him are overwhelming and I’m scared as fuck to admit them out loud.
“Hey,” he whispers, his finger lifting my chin so he can lock his eyes with mine. “I’m fine,” he adds reassuringly, like he knows exactly where my head just went.
“Okay,” I say, exhaling a breath. But I don’t move. I don’t leave, and I don’t look away. And neither does he.
“Hey,” Killian cuts in from behind me. “You gonna let the man get checked out or are you planning to interrogate him first?”
I don’t even turn. “You can go, Killian.”
Bishop laughs. “Yeah, we’ll just leave you two here in a medical hallway. Totally normal.”
“Very normal,” Killian adds.
Shepherd shakes his head. “You guys can go. Seb’s got me and she’s clearly not letting me go without being checked.”
Killian laughs. “You got that right.” He leans in. “For what it’s worth, she was crying huge tears when you fell, bro.”
My jaw drops. “I did no such thing.”
“Nah,” Bishop chuckles. “But the cup you were holding died a thousand deaths in your grasp.”
“Bye, turds,” Shepherd mutters, still staring at me.
“Try not to die, bro,” Killian says, capping him on the shoulder.
“Helpful,” Shepherd mumbles.
They disappear down the hall, still talking but leaving us alone in the hallway. Silence stretches between us but somehow it feels different. Comfortable. Like I could reach up and kiss his lips and nobody would think anything of it.
God, do I want to kiss him right now and lose myself in his hold as he reassures me over and over again that he’s okay.
“You didn’t have to come back here,” he says.
“I know.”
“But you did.”
I shrug, suddenly very interested in a scuff mark on the floor. “Someone had to make sure you weren’t being dramatic.”
“I’m never dramatic.”
“That’s debatable.”
He steps a little closer. Not enough to crowd me but enough that I feel it. “You were worried about me,” he says.
It’s not a question.
I scoff lightly. “Nah. I don’t do worried.”
His gaze holds mine, steady and knowing. “You do now.”
My breath catches and just for a second I hate that he’s right.
I do worry.
Because I do care.
A door opens behind him and Jamal, the man I remember having stitched up my hand, pokes his head out. “Haynes. Let’s get you in here.”
Shepherd nods but doesn’t move right away. He just keeps looking at me. “You’ll be here?” he asks. “You’ll wait for me?”
The question is simple, but it makes my chest fluttery because he wants me to stay. Like it matters to him if I do. As if I would go anywhere else.
“Yeah,” I say, soft and honest. “I’ll be right here.”
Something in his expression eases just a fraction. “Okay,” he says. But before he turns to head into the exam room he leans down and presses his lips against mine. It’s a gentle kiss, soft and sweet, but there’s something in it—something more urgent—that makes my heart skip.
When he pulls back, I can see the pain he’s hiding in the tightness around his eyes. “Stop looking at me like that,” he murmurs.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m going to break.”
I roll my eyes, trying to mask the worry that’s still churning in my stomach. “I’m not.”
“You are.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “I promise I’m okay.”
“I’ll feel better once you’re checked out,” I tell him, gently pushing at his chest, careful to avoid where I saw him pressing earlier. “The faster you go, the faster we can leave.”
He smirks. “So, you’re coming home with me, huh? Will you be my nurse for the week?”
“Shepherd.”
“I’m going, I’m going.”
He disappears into the exam room, the door closing behind him with a soft click. Only then do I let out an unsteady breath. My hands tremble, and I clench them into fists to make it stop.
I should sit down. I should find a chair or something, but I can’t make myself move from this spot. What if they find something wrong? What if it’s worse than he’s letting on? My mind races with possibilities, each one worse than the last.
Time crawls. I check my phone, clocking that ten minutes have passed. It feels like hours. I pace back and forth, stopping occasionally to listen at the door. I can’t make out any words, just the low murmur of voices.
Footsteps echo down the hallway. At first, I don’t pay any attention to them.
There’s been a steady flow of people moving through here—trainers, players, staff—everyone with somewhere to be and something to do.
But then a voice, low and familiar—too familiar—rings down the hall and my entire body goes still.
No.
No, that’s—
I don’t turn right away. I can’t, because if I don’t look, then maybe it’s not real. Maybe it’s just my brain doing that thing where it drags old ghosts into places they don’t belong.
The footsteps get closer and closer and though I stare at the ground praying it’s all in my mind I hear, “Sutton?”
Fuck.
His voice.
Shit.
Everything inside me drops.
This can’t be happening.