Page 108 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

Colter exhaled slowly. “I’ve been in want before. Lust. Comfort. Habit.” He shook his head. “But love? No. I’ve never stayed long enough to see what that felt like.”

Sutton didn’t gasp—she just sat back, fingers brushing the edge of her napkin. “I’ve never been in love either,” she said quietly. “At least, not the kind anyone writes songs about.”

Something eased in his chest—shared honesty leveling the ground between them.

She didn’t fill the silence. She let him sit in it and that, alone, was intimate as hell.

Colter rolled his water glass between his fingers. “I was good at temporary. My work came first—always. A broken leg, a seizure, a midnight emergency—I’d drop everything. A relationship doesn’t survive when you train someone to expect you to leave.”

Sutton’s eyes softened—just a fraction.

He cleared his throat, pushing on. “I used to treat women like breathers. A distraction from thinking too hard. Something easy before I went back to the clinic.” His voice dropped. “It’s not something I’m proud of.”

Sutton rested her forearms on the table, leaning forward just enough that the silk across her chest shifted with her breath. “And now?”

He met her eyes—specks of gold on blue, steady as a verdict. “Now, I’m tired of being disposable. Acting like I don’t want anything just because wanting something means it could vanish.”

Sutton’s throat flexed with a swallow. “That sounds lonely.”

“It is,” he admitted.

“And you think I’m the antidote?”

Colter shook his head with a certainty he didn’t feel a moment ago. “I don’t want an antidote. I want a partner, someone I’ll never walk away from.”

Her breath stalled. “That’s a very big statement for a first date.”

“I’m tired of playing small.”

Her gaze dropped to the linen tablecloth—like the honesty was almost too much to stare at directly.

Colter let the pause stand. Gave the words enough space to let her absorb it. He watched her breathe through something—an internal brace before she spoke.

“I never expected to be a mom,” she said finally. Not bitter or apologetic—just the hard truth.

Colter stayed still. He didn’t push or offer platitudes. He let Sutton talk when she was ready to.

She folded her napkin once, twice, like precision could protect her.

“Years ago, I agreed to be a surrogate and egg donor and carry a child for someone else. It was clinical and structured. I even signed paperwork.” A humorless huff escaped her. “The universe apparently didn’t care about paperwork.”

Colter listened, pulse slow and heavy.

“The biology ended up, um, different than intended,” she said carefully. “When the people who’d been waiting for that baby realized things weren’t what they expected, they stepped back. Completely.”

Her tone was flat, but her fingers tightened around the napkin.

“So there I was,” she continued. “With a tiny heartbeat depending on me and no plan. I could hand her to strangers or I could stay.” She flicked her gaze up at him—daring him to judge. “I stayed.”

Colter felt something sharp press behind his ribs. Respect for her bravery and anger on her behalf. Mixed in there was also a hell of a lot of awe.

Sutton straightened, shutters sliding back into place. “That’s all you get for now.”

Translation: Don’t dig deeper.

He nodded once. “Thank you.”

That earned him a slow breath—like she’d prepared for scrutiny and didn’t know what to do with grace instead.