Chapter 9
SUTTON
Ituck the phone against my ear, balancing a glass of wine in one hand while my brother Gavin’s voice crackles faintly through the line.
He’s somewhere in South America—or maybe Africa this time?
—doing his superhero thing with Doctors Without Borders.
Wherever he is, the connection’s garbage, but I don’t care.
He’s coming home soon, and the thought makes me grin into my glass.
Between the donor gala and Gavin’s visit, it feels like everything might actually line up for once.
“And then, one of those suits, I think it was Harold, had the nerve to tell me I need to bring a date to this year’s donor gala.”
“Really?” Gavin’s sigh slams into my ear. “What year is it and those guys think you need to have a man on your arm?”
“I know, right?” I sip my wine, shaking my head as I put the glass down. “Like I can’t go alone and do what needs to be done. Which, let’s face it, is to make small talk, keep sponsorship flowing, and be a smiling, happy team owner.”
“Nailed it,” Gavin says. “I’m sure you’ll know plenty of folks at the gala, too. The Barringtons are nice people. Mom and Dad always liked them.”
“Well, I’m just glad that you are going to be here, too, for it this year.” I feel a sense of calm flutter inside when I think about having my brother with me when I go to that event. He’s the sibling backup I need. “I found out Victor Lawson is also attending.”
“That guy,” Gavin groans. “Do you know, he had the nerve to email me and say he just wants to stay in front of us in case we ever want to sell. When Jimmy was friends with him all those years ago, I didn’t like him. Not then, not now.”
In the fun way things can be twisty, Victor has been tight with our estranged brother Jimmy for years.
Which tracks, even trash needs someone to talk to while it burns.
Jimmy used to run the Renegades, until it was discovered he was doing his best behind the scenes to inflate our team and then sell it off.
But, like all garbage, we managed to get this pile to the landfill.
Jimmy was asked to go, Gavin didn’t want to be in charge, so I became the face of the Renegades.
“Did he really reach out to you?” I could shake my head again, but at this point, I may shake it off my neck. “What a turd. Like he’ll ever get our team. Over my dead body.”
“Yours and mine both.” Gavin chuckles before his tone goes somber. “Speaking of dead bodies, I’ve got some bad news that may make you want to kill me.”
I can’t help the groan that escapes my lips. “Please don’t say you’ve given Victor your shares in the Renegades?”
“Not that. But, oh man, I’m sorry, Sutton,” he says, and even though he’s thousands of miles away, I can picture him rubbing the back of his neck like he always does when he’s breaking bad news.
“I was really hoping to get out of here for a visit before the end of the year, but we have too much going on and it’s not going to happen. ”
The words land like a punch to my chest. I sink deeper into the couch. “Gav…” I drag out his name, trying to swallow my disappointment. “You promised me last year that this year you’d make it.”
“I know. I thought I could swing it.” He sighs, that weary doctor sigh that sounds older than his thirty-seven years. “But the clinic’s short-staffed. And Sutton, the cases here are—”
“Life and death,” I finish for him, rolling my eyes at the ceiling even though I understand. I always understand. Gavin saves people for a living. He puts out actual fires while I manage a hockey team and argue with referees. His life is noble. Mine is noisy.
“It’s just a silly gala,” he says gently.
“A silly gala?” I sit forward, indignant. “It may have been that before that last board meeting, but now it’s all about me showing up at events solo. Now you’re bailing, which means I’m stuck.”
He chuckles softly. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.”
“Gavin, these people are watching me so closely that some days I feel like they’ve set up cameras in my office.”
He groans. “Okay, that’s bad.”
“Bad? That’s borderline sociopathic.” I drag out the word for effect. “These board members act like one wrong move from me and the whole ship’s going down.”
“You always were good at steering ships,” he says dryly. “You’ve got this, my sweet but seriously scary sister.”
I snort. “Sweet. Right. Remind me of that when they’re asking me for the color of my pen ink at the next meeting.”
He laughs, and for a moment, I smile, too. But it doesn’t erase the sting in my chest. He’s supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be home.
“Look, I’ll make it up to you,” he says. “Next year, I’ll be there with bells on.”
“You said that last year.”
“I know, but I promise I’ll move heaven and earth next year.”
“Yeah, well.” I press my lips together, not trusting myself to sound casual. “It’s fine. Really. Go save the world, Doctor Hero.”
His voice softens. “I love you, Sutton.”
I close my eyes. “Love you, too.”
We say our goodbyes, and I end the call, letting the silence of my house swallow me whole.
The three-bedroom farmhouse I bought outside Richmond is gorgeous on paper.
Wide porches, tall ceilings, polished hardwood floors.
But right now, it feels like living inside a museum—beautiful, but empty.
My heels click across the floors, the sound echoing too loudly in all this space I thought I’d fill with family and laughter.
Instead, it’s just me and the hum of the heating system.
I pause in the kitchen, staring at the string of twinkle lights I half-heartedly draped above the window for ambiance recently.
They look a little lonely, like even the lights are exhausted.
In the corner sits a cardboard box. Its contents?
A jumble of things I meant to organize—old photo albums, a stack of unread books, random papers I swore I’d sort last month.
A few small décor projects I bought on a whim still sit untouched, glaring at me, and a pile of family memorabilia I was looking forward to checking out with Gavin.
As I take inventory of my domestic failings, I can’t help but ask myself when in the world did life become so hard? This adulting thing—it’s proletarian, and yes, that was one of my recent words of the day and I love it.
I look around at my ongoing task list before I throw my hands in the air. “Screw this.”
I grab my phone again, scrolling to Elle’s number. She picks up on the second ring.
“Hey,” I say, my voice brighter than I feel. “Meet me for dinner?”
The night air has a little bite; Jack Frost isn’t quite nipping at my nose, but he’s thinking about it.
There’s a scent of roasted chestnuts from a vendor on the corner that accosts my senses as Elle and I walk side by side, each holding a steaming paper cup of tea.
My fingers curl around mine like it’s a lifeline.
“I’m so glad you wanted to try that restaurant,” Elle says, patting her belly as we walk. “I love Indian food, and that place was the best.”
“Exactly what I needed tonight, too,” I agree as we take in the scene around us.
River City is in the midst of dressing to the nines in the lead up to the holidays.
The trees lining the street are wrapped in white lights, branches sparkling like they’ve been dipped in sugar.
Shop windows glow with elaborate displays—one has a toy train circling a mountain of peppermint bark; another features mannequins in sequined gowns that look like they were stolen off a Hallmark movie set.
A giant wreath hangs over Main Street, twinkling above us like a beacon, and every lamppost has garland trailing down it.
“Can you believe it’s already ‘that time of year’?” Elle says, blowing into her cup. “I mean, we just got through Halloween, didn’t we?”
I laugh softly. “Tell me about it. This year’s been a lot.”
“That’s one way to put it.” She bumps my shoulder gently. “But hey, we made it. And I, for one, am grateful for you.”
Her words hit me right in the heart. I glance at her, the twinkling fairy lights reflected in her eyes. “Same. You’ve been my sanity more times than I can count this year.”
Elle stops, reaching out with her free arm to pull me into a side hug. “I really am sorry Gavin’s not coming home for a visit,” she murmurs.
“More than a visit, he was going to be my plus-one so I could shut the board up.”
“Even if he is your brother?” Elle says, snickering.
“At least I would be going to the gala with someone, so there’s that.”
“You know, I could ask Dixon if he wants to go with you. I know he won’t mind. Be good press for both of you.”
“It’s not about that, though, Elle, and I’m sure Dixon would rather be with you than on my arm for appearances’ sake as a favor.
” I exhale, watching the puff of breath curl in the cold air.
“I don’t know.” I shrug, and force a tiny cough.
“I might even fake sickness and cancel going to the whole thing myself.”
“What are you canceling?”
The voice cuts through the air, playful and unmistakable. I spin around to see a rowdy group spilling out of O’Malley’s Sports Bar. Right in the middle of them is Sawyer, a hand pressed dramatically to his chest like I’ve just offended his honor.
“Are you canceling me, Sutton?” His grin is infuriatingly charming. “Or should I call you Boss Lady?” he asks, milking it for the crowd. “Boss Lady is canceling me?”
I can’t help laughing. “No, Sawyer. I would never cancel you.”
And of course, where Sawyer goes, Campbell isn’t far behind. He emerges from the doorway, taller, quieter, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. His eyes find mine, steady and unreadable, and my stomach does a little somersault it has no business doing.
“Fancy running into you two here,” Elle says brightly, ever the social diplomat.
“Had to make an appearance,” Sawyer says, gesturing toward the bar like it explains everything. “Shake hands, take a few selfies, keep the people happy.”