10. Sutton
Chapter ten
Sutton
I watch his receding form as he heads into his bedroom, and when the door snicks shut, I grab a cup from the drying rack and fill it with water.
I feel guilty that I’m in his space. I’m sure he has a routine he does when he gets home from a road trip, and here I am, in the way.
I frown into my glass. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
Maybe I should find somewhere else to live.
“You alright, love?”
Shit.
I blink. How long was I lost in thought?
I look up to see him hovering in the doorway wearing a different outfit.
Good grief, what is it with guys and gray sweatpants?
They should be illegal. I’m gonna blame the pregnancy hormones for this feeling—that if he asked me if he could kiss me, could touch me, I’d say yes.
But I can’t. I can look though, and damn, he is hot.
Between the gray sweatpants, the five o’clock shadow, and the silver chain he’s wearing tucked into his shirt, it’s the perfect combination of hotness.
I rub my thighs together, trying to relieve the ache.
“Sutton?”
I gasp when I realize he’s moved closer to me. I back up, needing to put space between us, and bump into the counter.
“Fine. I’m fine.” I gulp down the rest of my water, trying and failing not to check him out.
He stares at me for a second before walking over to the fridge and opening it.
“There’s leftover pasta and meatballs you can eat. I made them tonight for dinner. In the glass dish.”
“You sure.” He takes out the container, turning to face me. “Seems like you packed this for lunch tomorrow.”
I shrug, because he’s not wrong, but I also feel bad. I’m already staying in his place. The least I can do is share my leftovers with him.
“Sutton.” He holds it up. “I don’t want to eat your lunch.” He puts my food back in the fridge before opening the freezer, taking out a container, popping off the top, and taking it over to the microwave to heat up.
He leans against the counter, watching me while his food cooks. “You’re more than welcome to my meals in the freezer.” He tips his chin toward said appliance. “If you don’t feel like cooking.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, although I have no plans to eat his food.
“I’m serious. Tell me what you like to eat, and I’ll ask my chef to make you some meals.”
“It’s fine, but thank you.”
“Let me take care of you.”
“I’m not yours to take care of,” I snap.
His smile falters, and I realize that was an asshole thing to say.
“You’re right.” The microwave beeps, and he takes his food out. “Sorry, I overstepped.”
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was rude, and—”
“It’s fine. I get it. I’m gonna go watch TV.” He grabs a fork from the drawer and walks out of the kitchen before I can respond.
Great, Sutton. Just fucking wonderful. Can’t keep your mouth shut. Or just say thank you. The man was trying to help.
I sit at the counter for a few minutes, trying to collect myself, before getting up and heading into the living room, pausing just inside the entranceway. Maybe I should go to bed.
Sebastian sets his food down on the coffee table and pats the spot on the couch next to him. “Want to come sit?”
I wring my hands, shifting from foot to foot. I hate this. I shouldn’t have said anything.
“I’m sorry.” I stare down at the carpet.
“It’s ok. Look at me.” There’s something in his voice that makes me do as he asked. “I overstepped. No need to apologize. I’m not used to this.” He gestures at me and then himself.
My eyes begin to water. He’s always been so nice to me. Even when I turned him down, he still bought me coffee at least once a week. Somehow he knew what my order was from the coffee shop around the corner from the arena.
He’s off the couch and standing in front of me before I can blink.
“What’s wrong?” He opens his arms, and I hesitate for a second before I step into them and allow myself to be held firmly against his body.
All the tension and stress of the past few days melts away as he holds me. I should not be doing this. We’re friends and roommates, nothing more, but I can’t make myself move out of his embrace.
“My grandmother died. And I’m worried about my siblings. My father …” I ramble through tears.
“I’m sorry. What can I do? When’s the funeral?”
I gulp in a few breaths of air, trying to calm down. “Earlier today. I don’t talk to my family, well, except for my two siblings, though mostly it’s my sister I talk to.”
He’s silent for a few seconds, rubbing my back, and I fight to regain control of my emotions. “I don’t mean this to be insensitive, but can you explain what’s going on. Why all the tears for a family you don’t care about?”
I wipe my face and step out of his embrace, immediately missing the warmth of it. He points to the couch, and we retake our seats. He doesn’t say anything, clearly waiting for me to gather myself.
“My father is a narcissist and extremely controlling. I’ve had no contact with him for years.
But I’m worried about my siblings. They’re stuck bending to his will.
I’m also worried that my grandmother dying will somehow force me to interact with him again.
” I shift in my seat. I hate talking about this.
“Why?”
“Because he let me walk away after he told me I was cut off, which was fine with me. I always figured he was biding his time until he needed me for something or needed something from me.” I snort.
“What that would be, I don’t know. But now with his mother dying, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
” He nods, remaining silent. “I’m sorry I dumped all my family drama on you,” I say after a few moments, sagging back against the couch, feeling emotionally and physically drained.
I haven’t talked about my family this much ever. I blame the pregnancy hormones. It’s the only logical explanation.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. I had no idea …”
“No one did,” I whisper. “I’m not exactly proud of where I come from. It’s why I changed my last name when I left. I didn’t want to be tied to him.”
“His actions don’t reflect on you,” he says quietly.
“I know.”
“What can I do?”
I rear back. “Do? You don’t need to do anything.”
He studies me. “But you’re upset and worried. I want to help you. Tell me what you need.”
“Nothing. I’m fine. Or I will be. I told you not because I needed you to do anything for me, but because I felt as though I owed you an explanation for why I behaved the way I did.
Besides, you’ve already done enough by letting me stay here.
Plus, you paid for the movers.” I tick the things he’s done for me off on my fingers.
“Not to mention feeding me and my cats, letting me eat your food, and sleep in your bed. You don’t need to do any more for me. ”
“I just want to make sure you’re safe and taken care of,” he says, pink coloring his cheeks.
“Why?”
“Because …”
“Because you feel sorry for me because I’m going to be a single mother soon? Because you pity me? I don’t need your pity.” Shut up, Sutton. Stop talking.
“I don’t pity you.” He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before sighing. “You’re my friend. I had the means to help you, so of course I did.”
“So you’d do the same for Hadley? Or Ansley?”
He stares at me for a second. “Of course I would, but …”
“But what?”
“You know I’ve had feelings for you, so yeah, maybe I’ve done more for you than I would for another friend, but like I said, I have the means to, and I wanted to, so I did.
I stopped pursuing you after you made it clear how you felt.
Doesn’t mean the feelings are just going away.
But I’m trying. Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy hugging you, taking care of you.
It’s a fucking privilege to be able to do those things, and I wish you could see that.
” He stands abruptly and grabs his empty dish.
“I-I need some space,” he says before walking out of the room.
Eventually, the door to the balcony off the kitchen snicks shut as he goes out onto it. I wipe away my tears.
Why do things have to be so complicated?
I get to my feet, make my way into the guest bedroom where my furniture was moved into, and get ready for bed.
As I’m drifting off to sleep the thought hits me that I wish this room didn’t have furniture still so I had an excuse to sleep in Sebastian’s bed, with him, next to him.
But he’s my temporary roommate, my friend, and that’s all he can ever be because I’m going to be a single mom and that needs to be my main focus.
Besides, it’s not like I can tell him I changed my mind.
Can I?