8. Sutton
Sutton
Hunter and I dive into my sketches, creating a game plan for his home while shoveling down Chinese food straight from the cartons. The hours blur together, and by the time we are in our vehicles pulling away from the property, my cheeks feel permanently flushed.
I had pictured him arguing with me about every little detail. I figured we’d end up bickering—our favorite pastime—but none of that happened.
I even suggested we paint the master bedroom blush pink, and he just said, “Whatever you want, babe.”
As I brake at the end of the dirt drive, I catch him in my rearview mirror. His dash is lined with hats—but somehow, I can still see him watching me.
All at once, my shoulders loosen. My muscles go lax.
Today did not go as I intended.
But I’m not mad about where it’s ending.
Hunter taps his horn, and I jolt. Even from this distance, I see his shoulders shaking with laughter. I roll my eyes just as my phone lights up.
Hunter: Stop overthinking this.
Me: I’m not overthinking anything.
Lies.
Hunter: Sutton.
Me: Fine. God, you’re so damn bossy.
Hunter: I can be. But I think maybe you like it.
My eyes meet his in the rearview mirror again.
There’s no teasing in his expression now. No smirk. No challenge. Just heat.
I exhale hard, like that might cool the electric sparks under my skin. It doesn’t.
“Dammit, Sutton,” I mutter, my gaze still locked on his reflection. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
I ease onto the highway, heading in the opposite direction as Hunter.
I would have stayed all day—mapping out cabinets and paint colors and a future neither of us is pretending not to see—but I’ve had enough emotional revelations for one afternoon.
And tomorrow at girls night, when Navy and Greer ask questions, it isn’t going to be easy.
Just after four o’clock the next afternoon, I get off work and head to Mom’s house.
After Dad died, I moved back in with Mom.
It’s been the best thing for us. When I step through the garage door, I’m expecting her to be prepping dinner, but the house is oddly silent.
I drop my bags beside the kitchen island, and a note catches my eye.
Decided to change things up and go out with my girls tonight too. Have fun. Love, Mom.
“Change things up?” I say out loud. “Did I miss a memo or something?”
I slip off my heels, pad upstairs to my room, and place them in a clear container along the wall of my closet. I shower quickly, letting the warm water wash my feelings of doubt and uncertainty down the drain. I pull on my favorite pair of sweats and sweatshirt, not bothering to reapply any makeup.
My eyes are bright, a bit wild even. A rosy flush colors my freckled cheeks. If I’m not careful, I might float away, suddenly untethered from my carefully curated life.
It’s tempting, the need to bury down these feelings of what if, but I ignore the urge and welcome them instead.
I’ve tried to keep my life and emotions locked down, only allowing people to see the collected version of myself.
It was a fool’s wish to think I could keep it up forever.
And honestly, I’ve never been capable of hiding my true emotions from Hunter.
Sometimes, I think he knows me better than I know myself.
Just think about trying to be an us.
I roll my eyes again at his words, having thought of nothing else the last twenty-four hours.
Releasing a sigh, I grab my overnight bag and head out. The streetlights pop on as I drive across town to Greer’s house for our sleepover.
I never envisioned myself as an adult woman having a sleepover, but neither Greer, Navy, nor I grew up with a close group of girlfriends, so it’s something we never got to experience. We’re making up for lost time.
As I pull into Greer’s driveway, the disparity between her house and my brother’s next door drags a snicker from me.
His is dark and looks vacant, but Greer’s is decked out in all manner of Halloween decor.
Since I was last here, she’s added a giant black spider crawling down the eave of her house.
When I first met Greer, she was tucked so far away from the world, it’s hard to believe she’s the one who suggested hosting a Halloween party this year.
Luke jumped at the chance to assist her. Granted, he’d do anything for her.
As I walk up the entryway, I spot her and Navy working side by side at the island through the open blinds.
I stop dead in my tracks, my shoulders tightening while I watch them.
I know it’s far past time to tell them my story, but that doesn’t make the prospect of ripping open my scars any less terrifying.
“You can do this, Sutton,” I say as I shake out my arms.
I rap my knuckles on the door. The seconds feel like minutes, but no one answers. I knock louder. Hushed whispers sound through the door.
“I can hear you two whispering.” I purse my lips, meeting their gaze through the peephole I know they’re most likely fighting over.
The door flies open, revealing Greer’s relieved face. “Geez, Sutton, you scared us.”
“Why are you knocking?” Navy’s brows pinch together.
Stepping between them, bag in tow, I’m immediately enveloped by warmth from the oven and a sweet, sugary scent in the air that has my worries melting away. These women are my best friends, and no matter what I tell them, it’ll be okay.
I smile. “Pretty sure knocking is standard practice.”
“Not for us.” Navy bumps me with her hip as she walks around me toward the kitchen.
“Navy’s right.” Greer giggles.
“Sorry, I’m just distracted.” I motion to the mess on the island—racks of cooling sugar cookies and bowls of variously colored icing. “Are you baking enough for the whole town?”
“Nope,” Greer says, “only enough for my class.”
“That’s right.” I clap my hands together, remembering Greer’s newest classroom unit. She doesn’t do half measures and has been pouring her heart into Halloween-themed lessons, science projects, and even an author visit for her second graders.
“Hard to believe it’s already October,” I muse, setting my bag down. “Seems like time is flying by these days.”
“The ’ber months tend to do that,” Greer says, eyes focused on the scary movie they’ve been watching.
“I suppose I better figure out a costume,” I say, “since your party is coming up. What are you girls going to be?”
Navy snorts, her eyes darting from the cookie dough to Greer. “Tell her, G.”
Greer rolls her eyes. “I wanted to go as Belle and Beast, but part of the deal to get Luke to hang my big ol’ spider was that he got to choose our costumes.”
“This ought to be good.” I try to suppress my laugh. Knowing my brother, he’s picked something ridiculous. When I was in fourth grade, he, Hunter, and I dressed up as Jurassic Park tour guides because he was obsessed with the book.
Greer disappears down the hall and returns with a blob of hairy plastic.
“What are those?” My eyes widen.
“Put them on, G.” Navy bursts into a fit of giggles. “It’s better if you put them on.”
Groaning, Greer squats down and slips on a hideous pair of shoes. She steps back and pops her foot up like she’s giving us her outfit of the day.
“Are those . . . hobbit feet?” I ask.
Greer nods her head as Navy bends down and combs her fingers through the faux hair.
“They’re taking this Lord of the Rings obsession to a whole new level,” Navy says.
“But why not go as . . .” I snap my fingers trying to remember the characters’ names.
“Aragorn and Arwen,” Greer supplies. “I know. That’s who I thought he’d choose, but no, he chooses Frodo and Samwise instead.” Greer marches in place, her hobbit-covered feet smacking against the tile with each step.
A belly-deep laugh bursts out of me, and I can barely catch my breath. “I can’t wait to see my brother wearing hobbit feet.” I wipe away a few tears. “What are you going to be, Navy?”
She doesn’t respond, too focused on switching out the last batch of sugar cookies and placing them on the cooling racks. Greer smiles and returns to the sink to wash dishes, so I slip away to the guest bedroom to put my things away.
As I set my bag on one of the twin beds, red brake lights catch my eye through the large window facing the front of the house.
I pull aside the sheer curtains, and my breath catches when I spot Hunter getting out of his truck.
Praying he hasn’t noticed me, I quickly click off the lamp on the nightstand, plunging the room into darkness.
I release a steadying breath, never taking my eyes from him.
My cheeks flame as I remember everything Hunter said yesterday.
I’ve had a crush on that man since I was a teenager. And not because he was always around. It was because of the way he listened. The way he saw me.
It certainly doesn’t hurt that he’s always been easy on the eyes—even more so now that he’s a man.
There’s something about his wavy hair and penchant for changing his facial hair as quickly as a woman changes nail color that gets me.
He’s had everything from a full beard to a handlebar mustache.
Lately, he’s been sporting a decent five-o’clock shadow.
I’ve been attracted to every version of him.
I lean toward the window, squinting my eyes to make sense of the wrestling match he’s having with a massive box.
His muscles flex and ripple as he grips and pulls it, but it remains stubbornly unmoved.
Hunter stands tall, his hands resting on his hips.
My forehead presses against the cool glass, contrasting with my heated skin.
My breath fogs the windowpane. It’s truly unfair that this man only grows more handsome with age.
He bends over, revealing a glorious view of his backside, and yanks at the box. It springs free, nearly sending him flying. I can’t help but snort and burst into a fit of giggles.
“What are we looking at?” Greer’s voice breaks through my Hunter-haze.
I launch from the window, letting the curtains fall back into place.
“Jesus, Greer,” I whisper-yell. “You scared the shit out of me. I’m going to attach a bell to you.”
She shrugs, her Cheshire Cat smile never once leaving her face. “Sorry,” she whispers back. “Did you see the raccoon out there? I’ve had problems with it lately, so that little monster better not be out there making a mess.”
“Not a raccoon,” I say. “Nothing at all, actually.” I try to steer her toward the bedroom door, but she sidesteps me and pulls back the curtain.
“You’re right, that’s not a raccoon,” she says and chuckles. “But it explains why you’re looking all hot and bothered.”
I plop onto the bed, burying my head in my hands. “I’m not hot and bothered.”
“You’ve got a little drool right . . . there . . .” She points to the corner of her mouth.
I level her with a look, and she bursts into a fit of giggles.
“Shh,” I hiss. “He’s going to hear you!”
I step next to her and peek out the window again. Sure enough, Hunter’s looking right at us. Greer smiles like an idiot and waves at him. He waves back, then turns the force of his gaze on me.
I don’t know what it is about this man, but he’s always had the power to make me feel like I have a thousand volts of electricity running through my body. His heated promises from yesterday reverberate in my mind as goosebumps cover me from head to toe.
Hunter slowly combs his gaze up my body and meets my eyes again. And then he winks.
My stomach somersaults.
“Did Hunter just wink at you?” Greer elbows me in the side.
“What? No. He probably just has something in his eye.”
Just thinking about the possibility of an us makes my head spin.
I’m pretty sure my brain is still malfunctioning from yesterday.
There’s no denying that we have more chemistry than a university science lab.
But what he’s asking? The second we cross that line, there’s no more pretending we’re just friends.
“This lasagna isn’t going to make itself!” Navy hollers from the kitchen.
Greer startles and steps back. She squeezes my hand and heads out the door, singsonging, “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and turn back to the window.
Hunter hasn’t moved, his piercing gaze searing me from afar.
Heat crawls up my chest. I’ve always tried to hide my feelings for him, tried even harder to hide my body’s reaction.
But tonight, I don’t bother because he’s known how I’ve felt all along.
He’s always known and has simply been giving me the space I needed.
Hunter takes his phone out. A text pings through to me.
Hunter: I can hear you thinking from here.
I shake my head and smile at him.
Me: Yeah, well, you’ve given me a lot to think about.
Hunter: And how’s that going?
“Sutton!” Navy’s booming voice startles me so much I nearly drop my phone. “Stop staring at your boyfriend, and get out here!”
I look over my shoulder, and Sutton and Greer are both peeking around the doorjamb.
“I’ll be right there,” I say.
They grin, and their heads pop out of view.
“Notice how she didn’t deny it?” Greer’s voice carries into the bedroom. “Do you think they’re finally together?”
“Not sure,” Navy says. “But we need details.”
I groan, realizing the inquisition they promised me yesterday has become ten times more intense. I fill my lungs, hold it for a few seconds, and release a loud, sighing breath.
My phone pings again.
Hunter: It’ll be okay. Just . . .
Hunter: **Elsa Let It Go meme**
Hunter: Have fun at girl’s night.
I smile. If only letting go didn’t feel like stepping off a cliff.
When I look up, Hunter lugs the enormous box up Luke’s driveway and disappears into the garage.
I lean forward and press the side of my face against the cool glass. With each breath, my nerves settle.
I know my friends are about to unravel me, but for once, I’m not scared.
For once, I’m ready to let them in.