Chapter 4
Chapter Four
SUTTON
Three days.
It's been three days since I poured Declan's milkshake in the trash and shut the door in his face. And my biggest regret is not taking a sip of that shake. I’m still craving one.
And I did feel a little foolish for being so dramatic. I acted like Bree. It wasn’t my finest moment.
Declan and I have seen each other a few times in the house, but we don’t let our eyes meet.
I stick to my room. He’s always at practice or wherever.
I don’t always know where he is, and honestly, I don’t really want to.
The rest of the house is tense. The guys all try to pretend everything is okay, but none of us are theater majors.
Our acting sucks.
Everyone knows nothing is okay.
I’m filing out of class when I hear my name.
I turn and walk back to where my professor stands with that look of concern I’m starting to dread.
"Sutton, I'm concerned about you."
"I'm fine." The lie comes automatically now.
"Your last two assignments have been subpar. You missed a quiz. Your participation in class has dropped significantly." She leans against her desk. "This isn't like you."
"I've just been dealing with some personal stuff."
"I gathered that from the campus gossip." Her expression softens. "Look, I don't usually get involved in student drama. But you're one of my best students. I'd hate to see you tank your GPA over something temporary."
"It's not temporary." I snap the words out, sounding way too defensive and disrespectful when talking to a professor. "Sorry. I just…it doesn't feel temporary."
"Heartbreak rarely does. But it passes." She pulls out a form. "I'm extending your paper deadline by two weeks. That should give you time to get your head together."
"You don't have to do that."
"I know. But I'm doing it anyway." She hands me the form. "Take care of yourself, Sutton. No boy is worth destroying your future over."
I take the form and leave before the tears can start.
Work is its own special torture.
I'm refilling saltshakers in the back when I hear the other servers talking in the break room.
"Did you see that photo of Declan Hayes?" That's Sarah, the girl who works weekends.
"Oh my god, yes. Poor Sutton." That's Jennifer, who's been here longest. "But honestly, I'm not surprised."
"What do you mean?"
"Come on. Declan Hayes? The hockey star with the NHL future? And she's what—a scholarship kid working at a restaurant?" Jennifer laughs. "That was never going to last."
"That's harsh."
"It's realistic. Girls like Bree Matthews—they know how to play the game. Sutton's sweet, but she's out of her league."
"I heard she went crazy."
"See? Insecure. That's exactly what I'm talking about. She couldn't handle being with someone like him."
I set down the saltshaker carefully, my hands shaking. This is what happens when you live, work, and go to school in a town the size of a box and everyone knows everyone.
I cannot wait to graduate and get the hell out of here.
I finish my shift on autopilot and drive home in silence.
Keira is at the house when I get home. I assume she’s there for Crew.
"Intervention time," she announces.
"I don't need an intervention."
"Yes, you do. You look like the undead. When's the last time you ate something that wasn't coffee?"
"I eat."
"Sadness doesn't count as a food group."
She leans down and gives Crew a quick kiss. “See you later.”
Then she takes my hand and leads me upstairs.
She's already set up her laptop on my bed, a pile of snacks beside it. Chocolate. Chips. Wine.”
"Keira, I’m fine. I really don’t need to keep sulking. Or binging junk food.”
"Sit. Eat. Watch." She pats the bed. "Doctor's orders."
I sit because it's easier than arguing.
She pulls up Pretty Woman—a movie we’ve both seen no less than thirty times.
We watch Richard Gere climb the fire escape, and Julia Roberts gets her happy ending.
"I'm so tired," I choke out. "I'm so tired of being the girl who gets betrayed."
"I know."
"I'm never enough." The words pour out. "I'm not rich enough. Not connected enough. I work at a restaurant while everyone else lives off their trust funds. I can't afford to go to the fancy restaurants or wear designer clothes. I'm not effortless like Bree."
"Effortless?" Keira pulls back to look at me. "Sutton, Bree tries so hard it's embarrassing."
"She doesn't try. She just is. She fits into that world. She knows how to dress, how to act, and what to say. She belongs there."
"No, she doesn't." Keira grabs my shoulders. "Listen to me. Bree Matthews is threatened by you. That's why she's doing all this."
"Why would she be threatened by me?"
"Because Declan chose you! Not her. Not any of the other girls who throw themselves at hockey players. You." She shakes me gently. "Bree has money and connections and designer clothes. But she doesn't have what you have."
"What do I have?"
"Substance. Intelligence. Authenticity. You're real, Sutton. You don't play games. You don't manipulate people. You don't try to be something you're not." Keira's eyes are fierce. "That's why she's trying so hard to destroy you. Because she knows she can't compete with who you actually are."
I want to believe her. I want to believe that I'm enough.
But the evidence says otherwise.
"If I were enough, he wouldn't have been with her."
"He wasn't with her. Bree set him up."
"He still participated."
"By being decent? By helping someone he thought was upset?" Keira sighs. "Look, I'm not saying Declan's blameless. He should have been more aware. But Sutton, this isn't about you not being enough. This is about Bree being manipulative as hell."
I don't know what to say to that.
Keira gets off my bed and starts tossing the empty chip bags.
"You need to get out of this house,” she declares.
“It’s eleven o’clock. I’m tired.”
“Tomorrow. We’re going out.”
"I don't want to go out."
"Too bad. We're going."
I figure I have twenty-four hours to convince her otherwise.
After she leaves, I change into my pajamas. I miss his shirt. I loved sleeping in his shirt. I loved sleeping next to his warm body.
But that’s done.
Move on.
Don’t wallow.
I hear someone outside my door. I stare at it. It’s locked. I wait for a knock. But nothing. And then I see a piece of paper on the floor.
I pick it up and turn on my bedside lamp.
I recognize Declan’s writing immediately.
I know this sounds like a convenient story. I know it looks bad. But I swear to you, Sutton, nothing happened. I didn't kiss her. I didn't invite her to my room. I didn't cheat on you.
I was trying to be a decent human being. And Bree used that against me.
Since that night, I've learned a lot about what Bree has been doing. The lies she's been telling. The way she's been manipulating situations to make it look like we were close. I talked to Holden. To the guys. To people who saw her posting about us in group chats.
She set me up for this exact situation.
I should have seen it. I should have been more aware. I should have shut down every interaction instead of just being polite.
That's on me. My blindness. My stupidity. My failure to recognize what she was doing.
But I need you to know—I never wanted her. I never encouraged her. I never gave her reason to think I was interested.
I wanted you. Only you.
I still want you.
I understand if you can't forgive me for being blind to her games. I understand if the trust is beyond repair. I understand if you need to walk away.
But please don't think I wanted this.
Please don't think you weren't enough.
You're everything, Sutton. You always have been.
I love you.
I read it three times.
Then I fold it carefully and set it on my nightstand.
I don't know if I believe him.
I don't know if it matters.
But for the first time in three days, I feel something other than numb.
I feel confused.
And maybe that's a start.