Page 122 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

“No pity, no weirdness, just the truth.” Cheryl squeezed her arm. “You’re steady and nurturing, and you make him look like a man who finally stopped holding his breath.”

Sutton’s throat tightened around the emotion. She had no words.

Cheryl fixed her straw, then gave Sutton a knowing pat. “Now, go approve whatever ridiculous kiddie-pool situation he has going on before he lets ducks vote on something.”

Sutton managed a wobbly smile.

Cheryl walked off into the crowd without waiting for a response, leaving Sutton standing in the middle of the commotion, heart twisting as Colter and Lynlee called her name again like she already belonged to them.

She crossed the street toward the makeshift “duck habitat,” bracing for whatever mischief awaited. Colter and Lynlee stood beside a kiddie pool filled with cool water, three waddling fluffballs, and a tiny plastic slide he must have stolen from someone’s yard.

He looked absurdly proud of himself. “Safety rating, Miss Sutton?”

She inspected the water level, checked the shade coverage, and made sure the ducks had enough room to turn. It was ridiculous and unnecessary, and completely perfect.

She gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Passed inspection.”

Lynlee pumped both fists in the air like a tiny Heisman recipient. She glanced across the street, spotted Parker, and with a shriek of pure joy, bolted away yelling, “Parker, I am here to supervise you,” which was Lynlee-speak for attacking with hugs.

That left Sutton and Colter in a sudden vacuum of privacy. He wasted no time. A warm hand slid to her lower back, urging her around the corner of Granny’s Grocer and Grain and out of sight of the main drag.

“Colter?” she asked. “Where are we going?”

He did not answer. Nope, that man dipped his head and kissed her. It was hungry and raw, and so damn certain she felt herself lean into him before Responsible Sutton caught up. His mouth tasted like early autumn days and lemonade.

When he finally pulled back, his voice was rough. “I have been thinking about this since the other morning in my bed.”

Her pulse tripped. “That was two days ago.”

“I am aware,” he said, brushing his thumb against her jaw. “Forty-eight hours, five hours of sleep, two shirts ruined by duck water, and not one second where I didn’t want to pull you somewhere private and finish what we started.”

Her back pressed against the warm, stucco wall and her voice came out breathier than intended. “What did we start, exactly?”

Colter didn’t shy away. His hand stayed right at her jaw, tilting her face up. “I’m hoping it’s a future. Not a fling or a mistake, but something real.”

Her heart punched hard against her ribs at the word future and the idea of one with him, waking up to that mouth, those dimples, and feeling she had around him of being exactly where she was supposed to be. A world where Lynlee had a man who adored her and a home that didn’t feel borrowed. Those were the things she’d dreamed of having but feared would be ripped away from her.

Hope rushed through her so fast it made her dizzy.

He watched her, clearly waiting for something close to panic or hesitation. Instead, Sutton felt her mouth curve, unable to stop the warmth that broke across her chest. Her heart leaped like she’d been waiting for permission her whole life.

She swallowed and forced words past the tightness in her throat. “A future is a big word, doctor.”

He looked like he had no intention of backing off. “Yeah, I realized I don’t do halfway. Not with you.”

“You barely know what my future looks like,” she said, searching his face. “My life is a kid, a job I’m praying I excel at, a degree I need to finish, which leaves no time for screwups.”

“I’m not here to screw anything up, Freckles. I’m here because I want in. I want the messy parts, the hard work, the responsibility that comes with you.”

Her pulse hammered. “That sounds like commitment.”

“I hope so.”

“And you’re not scared of a five-year-old who climbs walls and interrogates strangers?”

“I love that about her. She knows what she wants and doesn’t apologize. It reminds me of her mother.”

That line hit her square in the chest. For a second, she let herself imagine it: Colter at her kitchen counter, helping with homework, washing duck water out of his shirt, kissing her goodnight in a real home.