Chapter 25
The next day, Sutton stood in the treatment room at the animal clinic, elbow-deep in charting post-op notes for an elderly golden retriever. The buzz of the centrifuge, the smell of antiseptic, the quiet steadiness of work usually calmed her. Today it did nothing.
Her phone buzzed against the stainless-steel counter. She wiped her hands on a towel and checked the screen.
Sutton’s stomach dropped when the email notification slid across her screen. The sender alone made her pulse jump, heat prickling along her scalp.
From: Phelps Investigations
Subject: Maddox Inquiry
She angled her phone closer, shoulders rounding instinctively, suddenly aware of every footstep in the hall, every shadow that passed the open doorway.
Her fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating, because opening it meant answers—and answers had weight.
If someone glanced over her shoulder, if Irma wandered by with her laser focus and sharper memory, the carefully stacked lies of Sutton’s life could tip like a Jenga board without a center piece.
She swallowed, breath shallow, heart knocking hard enough to feel traitorous, then clicked anyway—because fear had never stopped her before, and not knowing felt worse than whatever waited inside.
She quickly scanned the missive, and a hand went to her chest. It was exactly what she’d been afraid of.
I found a document that shows last year the Callahan family filed a lawsuit against Virgil Maddox over water rights on adjacent land.
She zoomed in, heart picking up speed as she read what her PI had found.
Apparently, the complaint was aggressive, the kind meant to drag someone through the dirt. It never reached trial. The likely conclusion is that the Callahans must have secured water rights through mediation.
Translation: they leveraged power, money, and lawyers until they got what they wanted.
Sutton set her phone against her chest and leaned against the counter, pulse loud in her ears.
If that’s how they handled water rights, what would they do with a child? With his child? With a secret she’d been sitting on for four years?
The Callahans had influence, legacy money, and a family name that made county officials blink twice. Sutton had maxed out credit cards, college debt, a daughter, and a truth she had not spoken aloud.
“Would they sue for custody?” she whispered to herself, breath shaking. “God, could they take her from me?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. She had fought for everything in her life. But something told her she could not fight a dynasty in a courtroom and come out unscathed.
“Hey.”
Sutton jerked at the voice. Her phone clattered to the floor.
Irma stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, hip cocked, and that mouth tipped in a knowing little smirk that made Sutton’s nerves spike. Irma never appeared without an agenda.
“So,” the older woman said lightly, “I saw you went with Dr. Colter to get those puppies.”
Sutton picked up her phone and pocketed it, then reached for another file, busying herself a second.
“I was working,” she said, keeping her voice even. “It was an all-hands-on-deck kind of situation.”
“Yet he didn’t call Dr. Lee.”
“Dr. Lee wasn’t here.”
Irma hummed, unconvinced. “Funny. He’s gone on his own before.”
Sutton tossed the file on the desk, a little harder than necessary.
Her nerves were already stretched thin, buzzing from the email—the lawsuit, the reminder that the Callahans played in deeper waters than she did.
Add to that the kiss she was pretending hadn’t happened, all that heat and impulse wrapped up in a decision she had not planned to make, and it felt like too much.
She forced her hands to steady, and her face to neutral. If Irma noticed the tension crackling under her skin, she didn’t show it. Sutton told herself it was just work-stress. Not fear. Not guilt. And definitely not the lingering awareness of how badly that kiss had knocked her off balance.
“He needed help,” she explained. “I was there. Work happened. End of story.”
Irma’s expression softened, the teasing fading.
“I’m not accusing you of anything,” she said. “I’m warning you.”
Sutton finally looked at her. “About what?”
“About him,” Irma said quietly. “Colter isn’t as tough as he lets on. Losing his parents, keeping the ranch afloat, shouldering that kind of responsibility—those walls of his? They’re cracked right now. And when people are cracked, they break easier.”
Sutton swallowed, something uncomfortable settled in her chest. “I’d never hurt him,” she said and wasn’t that what he’d promised her yesterday?
“I know,” Irma said gently. “Just be careful with him and with yourself.”
Sutton leaned back against the counter, letting Irma’s words sink in. The quiet in the clinic hung heavy for a moment before she spoke, curiosity edging her tone.
“Speaking of keeping the ranch,” Sutton said carefully. “How close did the Callahans really come to losing it last year? I heard bits and pieces, but I don’t know the full story.”
Irma’s eyes darkened slightly, memories flickering behind them. She let out a slow sigh, as if unspooling a long-held secret.
“It was Virgil,” she began. “Their neighbor. He inherited the land from his great uncle, who had made a hand-shake deal with Colter’s granddad. But when Virgil inherited the property, he didn’t abide by the agreement and doubled the water price. It nearly sank Callahan Ranch.”
She pictured him then—not angry or not posturing just standing there with responsibility pressing in from all sides and no good options in sight.
For a man whose love language was acts of service, whose instinct was to fix, provide, protect, that kind of helplessness must have cut deep, settling into his bones and teaching him early what it meant to carry weight you could not put down.
“How did they weather it?” Sutton asked.
“Vivi,” the older woman said with a grin.
“She might look like a pushover but give her five minutes and she’ll have you agreeing to things you didn’t even know you wanted—while thanking her for the privilege.
She reached out to Virgil asking him to change his mind, reminding him that it was the neighborly thing to do. ”
Sutton couldn’t help but laugh at the image of her busybody friend trying to sweet-talk the devil himself. “And it worked?”
Irma shook her head. “God no. It didn’t settle with Virgil well. He canceled all talks with the Callahan brothers and said that the deal was off. Boone lost it, Vivi nearly left town, but it all worked out.”
“How?” Sutton said having a hard time imagining Boone saying a single negative thing about his fiancée. “They seem like the perfect couple.”
“Oh, they are,” the woman said gently. “Sometimes love doesn’t crack where you expect.
Sometimes it bends under the weight of timing, of fear, of wanting to protect the other person so badly you forget to protect yourself.
Perfect doesn’t mean painless, it just means they chose each other anyway, even when it was hard.
It also helped that Vivi, in her own misguided way, saved the ranch. ”
“Wait, she lost it, then saved it?”
“She not only sent the letter to Virgil, she secretly sent one to his great aunt too, who forced that weasel to abide by the agreement. It left scars, though. Emotional ones. Financial ones. And it made the brothers cautious, guarded. Colter’s always calculating, always ready for the next storm.”
Sutton absorbed that, the weight of it settling around her like dust.
“I get it now,” she murmured. “No wonder he keeps everything so close.”
Irma gave her a small, knowing nod. “Exactly. And right now, with the loss of his parents, that weight—well, it’s heavier than ever.
” She folded her arms, studying Sutton a little more closely than before.
“That makes him vulnerable. More than he’d ever admit.
And people in that state can mistake comfort for something else. ”
Sutton shifted, an uneasy prickle moving up her spine. “I’m not trying to be his comfort. Whatever is going on, it’s not going anywhere.”
Irma didn’t look convinced. “You say that, but I see you, too,” she said gently. “You’ve got your own cracks right now. You’re tired and searching for something. That’s a vulnerable place to stand in, Sutton.”
Sutton opened her mouth, then closed it.
“Nothing is happening,” she lied. “We were just working. That’s it.”
Irma sighed, reaching out to squeeze Sutton’s arm. “Good. Because I’d hate for either one of you to get hurt. And sometimes the worst damage comes from things we swear aren’t real.”
Sutton nodded, even as something tight and uncomfortable settled in her chest—because if nothing was happening, it wouldn’t feel like this.