26. Shepherd #2
“I should have left then,” she continues, her voice hollow.
“But he was so sorry afterward. So gentle. Said he’d never do it again.
And I believed him because I wanted to. Because I thought that’s what love was.
Forgiving the unforgivable. And he comes from money so he paid for anything and everything.
I think I felt like I owed him, you know?
Like letting him treat me like shit was my debt to pay for all the things he paid for, for me. ”
“Shit, Sutton.” my voice drips with sympathy and compassion for her. “You don’t owe anyone anything. No one deserves to be treated that way. Ever.”
Sutton’s eyes meet mine briefly before darting away. “I know that now. But back then…” She shakes her head, a strand of hair falling across her face. “Back then I thought it was normal. That relationships were just…hard. That love hurt sometimes.”
My chest constricts. The thought of her believing that—of anyone making her believe that pain was what she deserved—makes me want to tear something apart with my bare hands.
“How did you get away?” I ask, keeping my voice gentle despite the rage boiling just beneath the surface.
Sutton’s expression darkens. “He put me in the hospital.” Her voice is barely above a whisper and tears fall from her already glistening eyes. “He raped me three times.”
Fuck. Me.
“Once while I was wide awake and crying for him to get off of me, and then twice after he drugged me.” She gestures to her chest with shaky hands.
“I was awake for that too, but whatever he drugged me with paralyzed my body. He…he broke three ribs, fractured my cheekbone. When I woke up in the hospital I told the doctors I fell down the stairs.” She laughs without humor.
“Such a cliché, right? But they knew. They always know.”
My stomach twists violently. The thought of her in pain, of her broken and alone guts me.
“A nurse slipped me some information about a women’s shelter,” she continues.
“I left while he was at the gym. Took what I could carry and just left without telling him where I was going. I lived in that shelter for a few months before I found my apartment in the city. I hadn’t seen Micah for…
” She shrugs. “Nine years. Until today.”
My heart stops beating for a second as she stands there, so small in my workshop, the weight of her past pressing down on her shoulders.
Nine years of carrying this alone. Nine years of running from someone who turned love into a weapon.
And now he’s back, working with my team, wanting to get close to her again.
“That’s why you froze in the hallway,” I say, my voice tight with anger I’m trying desperately to control.
“When I saw him today,” she continues, her voice stronger now, like she’s found her footing, “it was like no time had passed at all. Like I was that scared nineteen-year-old girl again, powerless and small.” She wraps her arms tighter around herself. “He said things… about you. About us.”
Fucking prick.
My jaw clenches. “What did he say?”
Sutton wipes at her tears with the sleeve of my hoodie. “The same things he used to say. That I’m worthless. That I’m only good for…” She stops, shaking her head. “That you’re just like him. That I’m just…” She swallows hard. “Just a body to you. Something to use and discard.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing my breath more effectively than any tackle. The thought that she might believe that, even for a moment, tears something open inside me.
“Sutton,” I say softly, unable to keep the pain from my voice. “Please tell me you don’t believe him.” I hate how vulnerable the question sounds. How desperate I am to know she sees me differently.
“I don’t know,” she whispers, more tears flowing, and the raw honesty cuts me deep. “I don’t want to believe him.”
“But…” I say, knowing there’s more there. I can feel it coming.
“But part of me…” She looks away, her shoulders hunched like she’s bracing for impact. “Part of me is scared that he’s right. That this,” she gestures between us, “isn’t real. That I’m just convenient because I’m here.”
The words are crushing to my soul, but I refuse to let that son of a bitch control her mind any longer. I push away from the workbench, ignoring the sharp protest from my ribs. I need her to look at me, to really see me.
“Sutton,” I say, my voice low and steady despite the tempest raging inside me. “Look at me. Please.”
She lifts her head slowly, her eyes meeting mine with such vulnerability it steals my breath.
“Nothing about you has ever been convenient,” I tell her, stepping closer but still giving her space.
“From the moment you walked away from me at the bar, you’ve been the most challenging, frustrating, beautiful puzzle I’ve ever tried to solve.
You make me work for every smile, every laugh, every moment of trust. And I love that about you. ”
Her eyes widen slightly, tears still clinging to her lashes.
“If I wanted convenient, I wouldn’t be standing here with bruised ribs and a heart so tangled up in you I can barely breathe sometimes.
” I take another step closer, needing her to understand.
“I’ve spent my whole life being the guy who fixes things, who makes things better, who never needs anything from anyone.
But with you? I’m completely undone. Sutton Price, nothing about the way I feel about you is casual or convenient. ”
Her breath catches, but she doesn’t back away. I take that as permission to continue.
“When I saw you with him today—when I saw the look on your face—I wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands. Not because I think you’re mine to protect, but because the thought of anyone hurting you makes me physically sick.”
I run a hand through my hair, trying to find the right words.
How do I make her understand what she means to me?
How do I fight against the poison that bastard had been feeding her for years? The thoughts and beliefs she’s continued to let poison her psyche ever since.
“I love you, Sutton. Somewhere in these past few weeks I’ve fallen in love with you.
Not because it’s easy, but because it’s the most real thing I’ve ever felt and I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” I admit, my voice rough with emotion.
“And that terrifies me because I know how easily you could walk away. How many reasons you have not to trust me or any man. But I’m not him, Sutton.
And I swear to God, I will never be him. ”
Her eyes search mine, looking for something, truth, maybe, or reassurance. I don’t know, but I hold her gaze, letting her see everything I’m feeling, hiding nothing.
“I’m scared,” she whispers, and the raw vulnerability in her voice makes my heart ache.
“Of what?” I ask gently, taking another small step closer. Close enough to touch her, but I don’t. Not yet.
“Of believing you. Of trusting this.” She gestures between us. “Of letting myself hope and then having it all torn away again.”
I swallow hard, fighting the urge to pull her into my arms. “I understand that,” I tell her.
“I do. And I can’t promise we’ll never hurt each other, because people do that sometimes even when they don’t mean to.
But I can promise you this,” I hold her gaze, needing her to feel the truth in my words, “I will never intentionally cause you pain. I will never use your body or your heart as a weapon against you. And I will spend every day trying to be worthy of whatever trust you can give me.”
She’s trembling now, tears falling freely down her cheeks. I want so badly to wipe them away, but I don’t move. This has to be her choice. All of it.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she admits, her voice breaking. Her eyes meet mine, filled with a vulnerability that makes my whole body ache. “What if I can’t ever fully trust anyone again? What if I’m too broken?”
“You’re not broken, Sutton. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.
And I’m so unbelievably sorry for what happened to you.
The amount of guilt I feel because I can’t undo what he did to you is unfathomable.
I wish to God I could, but I can’t.” I sigh trying like hell to show her as much sincere compassion as I can.
“All I can do is show you, day after day, that I’m not him,” I say bringing my hand to my chest. “That what I feel for you, what we have together, isn’t at all what you had with him. ”
Sutton’s pinky finger hooks into mine, a tiny connection that feels like the most important touch in the world right now. Her tears are slowing, but her eyes remain locked on our joined fingers like they hold some answer she’s been searching for.
“I want to believe you,” she whispers, her voice steadier than before. “I think part of me already does.”
My heart leaps at her words, but I keep my expression calm. This moment feels too fragile, too important to rush. “That’s all I can ask for,” I tell her. “Time and a chance to prove it to you.”
She takes a deep, shuddering breath and steps closer, closing the distance between us until she’s standing right in front of me. I can smell the vanilla of her shampoo, see the tiny flecks of gold in her dark eyes. “Will you hold me, Shepherd?”
Oh, thank fucking Christ.
The question slams into me, knocking the breath from my lungs. For a moment I don’t move, afraid that if I reach for her too quickly, she might change her mind or disappear altogether.
“Always,” I whisper, opening my arms to her. “Come here.”
I gently wrap my arms around her, mindful of my bruised ribs, and pull her against my chest. She feels so small in my embrace, so fragile yet impossibly strong at the same time.
Her body trembles as she presses her face into my shirt, her hands clutching the fabric like she’s afraid I might disappear.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper into her hair. “I’ve always got you, Sutton.”
We stand like that for what feels like forever, just holding each other in the quiet of my workshop, surrounded by sawdust and half-finished projects.
Her breathing gradually steadies, her body relaxing incrementally as if she’s finally allowing herself to let go of some of the tension she’s been carrying since we left the stadium.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles against my chest.
I pull back just enough to look at her face, my hands moving to cup her cheeks. “Don’t. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I shut you out.” Her eyes are red-rimmed but clearer now. “I let him get in my head. When I saw him today, it was like…like all the progress I’ve made over the years just vanished. Like I was that scared girl again, trapped and powerless.”
“You’re not powerless, Sutton. Not anymore,” I add, my thumb brushing away the last of her tears. “The fact that you’re standing here, telling me your truth, trusting me with it? That takes more courage than anything I’ve ever done on a football field.”
She leans into my touch, her eyes closing briefly. When they open again, there’s something different there. A quiet determination replacing the fear.
“I don’t want him to win,” she says softly. “I don’t want him to ruin this too.”
My heart swells at her words. “He won’t,” I promise. “Not unless we let him.”
Sutton nods, her hands still clutching my shirt. “I’ve spent so long running, Shepherd. So long looking over my shoulder and keeping people at a distance. I’m tired of living that way.”
“You don’t have to anymore.” I brush a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger against her skin. “Whatever happens next, whatever you need—space, time, protection—I’m here. We figure this out together.”
She nods, her fingers curling tighter in my shirt. “I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“If you see him—if he comes near me again—you won’t do anything stupid.” Her eyes lock with mine, serious and intent. “I don’t want you risking your career over him. He’s not worth it.”
Every instinct in my body rebels against this promise. The thought of letting that bastard anywhere near her makes my blood boil. But I understand what she’s asking. She doesn’t want me to become the monster he is.
“I promise I won’t do anything stupid,” I say, my voice rough with restraint. “But I won’t stand by and watch him disrespect the woman I love either.”
The corners of her mouth inch up, a fragile hope blooming across her face.
She licks her lips, her voice soft and wishful when she asks, “Perhaps, if the day ever comes, maybe you would be willing to stand next to the woman you love while she tries to take her power back from the man who stole it from her?”
I nod, choking back my own tears when I tell her, “It would be my proudest moment.”