Chapter 28
Colter looked up from the next patient’s file just in time to watch Sutton barreling through the clinic doors like a one-woman hurricane, bags swinging fast enough to take someone out at the knees.
Clutched in her other hand was Lynlee, bundled in flannel pajamas, nose pink, eyes bloodshot, looking utterly miserable.
“What’s going on?” he asked, taking the bags.
“She woke up feverish and coughing,” she said, mom tone in full effect.
She swiveled in place, trying to set Lynlee down without dropping her.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I should have called to tell you I’d be late.
Ms. Tutty is visiting her daughter in Blue Sky, so I don’t have a sitter.
And the school has strict rules about bringing sick kids to class.
It’s probably just a cold, but I refuse to be the mom who starts a preschool pandemic. ”
“You did the right thing bringing her in,” he interrupted softly, taking the girl from her arms. Lynlee curled against him, small hands clutching at his scrubs as she shivered. “Here, let me take her so you can set your things down.”
Sutton exhaled, placing her hundred-and-one bags on the counter. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was.”
Irma stepped into the doorway with her trademark knowing smile. “Why don’t you go get some coffee, Sutton? Dr. Callahan will bring her into his office and I’ll keep her comfortable in there while you get settled. Don’t worry about a thing.”
Sutton hesitated, glancing between him and Irma, and then gave a small, grateful nod. “Okay. Her apple juice is in the pink bag, her favorite blanket is in the canvas one, and Sir Neighs a Lot is in the blue one.”
“Sir Neighs a Lot made the trip?” Colter said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.
“More powerful than a mommy’s hug. I swear.”
“I doubt that,” he chuckled, then rested a hand lightly on Lynlee’s back as he carried her toward the back office.
Sutton was still breathing heavy from the frantic start to her morning when she reached the lunchroom. Blessedly, the coffee was already brewed. She poured herself a steaming cup and breathed in the pungent goodness.
She’d just taken a sip when Irma walked in, taking in the scene like she was filing it away for later.
“How’s Lynlee?” Sutton asked.
“Tired. Grumpy. Dramatically wronged by the universe.” Irma smiled, then shrugged. “You know, your typical sick preschooler.”
Sutton huffed a laugh. “Lynlee was up most of the night with a fever. I didn’t sleep at all.” She gave a tired half-smile. “I thought about calling in sick, but I didn’t want to leave everyone short-staffed. And…” She trailed off, then said it anyway. “I need the money.”
Irma’s expression softened as she moved farther into the room, pouring herself a cup. “Being a mom doesn’t stop just because you’re at work. Some days it feels like you’re failing in two places at once.”
Sutton felt that land hard. “It really does.” She hesitated, then added, “I have to say, it’s nice having a boss who understands that. Who doesn’t make me feel like I’m asking for special treatment just because my kid comes first.”
Irma studied her for a moment, eyes sharp but not unkind. “You’re not asking for special treatment. You’re asking for reality.” She tipped her mug in Sutton’s direction. “And you’re doing a damn good job with it.”
Sutton swallowed. Praise wasn’t something she’d received a lot growing up, so it always made her uncomfortable. But coming from Irma, Sutton actually felt pride instead of the familiar urge to deflect or brush it off.
“Thank you. That means more than you know.”
Irma straightened, already shifting back into her no-nonsense stride. “This place works because the people in it do, and people don’t stop being human just because they punch a clock.” She paused at the door, glancing back. “He understands you, Sutton. The whole picture. More than most.”
Then she was gone, leaving Sutton alone with the percolating of the coffeemaker and a feeling she hadn’t realized she’d been craving—being seen, not as a problem to manage, but as someone who belonged.
Sutton sucked down her coffee and poured herself another cup before heading toward Colter’s office. She cracked open the door and nearly melted to the floor.
Colter had settled her daughter onto his couch. Lynlee’s small body sank slightly under the blankets, and Colter was crouched down to her level, lifting the thermometer carefully and checking her temperature.
Sutton’s first instinct was to step back and give him space. Her second was to remember why she’d promised herself not to imagine futures that looked like this. Not until she was sure they could be a reality.
Colter met Sutton’s gaze from the doorway and realized how easily he could get used to this kind of moment. They held each other there for a beat too long, the air between them thick with things neither of them was ready to name. Then he cleared his throat, grounding himself in the moment.
“Fever must have broken,” he said.
“That’s good,” Sutton said, but she still didn’t cross the threshold, as if entering fully would only deepen whatever this thing was that was transpiring between them.
Colter’s gaze flicked to her face. “You look exhausted.”
“I’m fine.”
He didn’t buy it. “You should take a nap. Curl up with her for a bit.”
“I just need another cup of coffee.”
His brow creased. “You’re going to get sick.”
“Nope. I’ve got a mother-fortified immune system. It blocks germs, viruses, and most forms of exhaustion-induced stupidity.”
He was about to argue his case when Lynlee opened her eyes. “I wants Sir Neighs A Lot.”
Colter reached into the blue bag and pulled out the stuffed horse, making it prance and gallop its way up her blanket with an exaggerated clip-clop.
“Sir Neighs A Lot, reporting for duty,” he murmured, marching it right up her tummy until Lynlee squealed and wrapped her arms around it.
Colter smiled and brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “I’ve got you, princess.”
“Thanks, Colter,” Lynlee said, her words coming out stuffy.
“You bet.” He tucked the blanket tightly around her like a burrito. He looked up to find Sutton, still leaning against the door jamb, watching him.
“You’re really good with her,” she said quietly, a little awe in her voice.
Colter gave her a small shrug, avoiding eye contact, though his fingers lingered on Lynlee’s arm as if he couldn’t quite let go.
“She’s easy to like,” he said. “Plus, you’re the one who knows what you’re doing too. You keep her safe and comfortable. I just make sure she doesn’t turn into an ice cube.”
Sutton chuckled, tension easing from her shoulders for the first time since she arrived. She took another sip of coffee, closing her eyes in sheer bliss and he was afraid, if she didn’t open her eyes soon, she’d fall asleep while standing.
He walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Sutton?”
Her eyes flew open. “What?”
He just absorbed the soft angles of her face, the sleepy eyes and slightly parted lips and his heart turned over. He skated his hand down her arm to take her hand in his. His pinkie barely brushed hers and then he backed up.
“I don’t know how you juggle it all,” he said.
“Nearly five years of practice.” She shrugged like it was no big deal. “You just get used to the crazy.”
Lynlee let out a soft whine, and Colter walked over and shifted slightly, pulling the blanket higher around her shoulders.
“You okay, princess?” he asked gently. “We’ll get you feeling better soon. Just a little patience.”
He adjusted the blanket around Lynlee one more time, then straightened, glancing at Sutton.
“I’m not sure how to be a mom and your vet tech.” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. She looked at her daughter then him. “Maybe I should have stayed home.”
“You can go home or stay here. Your choice. But know that Irma can watch her if you can help me with a ferret in room three.”
She gave a small, tired smile that hit him square in the chest—a pulse-quickening ache that had only intensified since that damn kiss.