Page 123 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

“It terrifies me,” Sutton whispered. “Wanting more.”

He brushed his thumb along her lower lip, that still tingled from his kiss. “Then we’re even. You scare the hell out of me, too.”

She huffed a soft laugh. “You’re not scared of anything.”

“I’m terrified of wanting something I can’t keep, but I still want you.”

Sutton stared up at him, everything inside her loosening and tightening at the same time. “What now?”

“Now,” he said, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Now we start with today. We finish this event, take Lynlee home, and later, when we get a quiet minute, you and I talk about what comes next.”

“You really want to open that conversation?”

“I want every conversation,” he said. “I want it all.”

For one suspended heartbeat, Sutton let the hope stand unhindered. She let herself want it, want him, want the future he was brave enough to name. But before that could happen, she’d have to be brave too. The first real conversation they would have would not be about dates or plans or their definition of love.

It would be about Lynlee. About the truth of his connection with his daughter he never knew about.

Her fingers curled into his shirt and her forehead tipped toward his. “Okay, Colter,” she whispered. “Let’s try.”

She meant it as she said it, which was the terrifying part, because for the first time since she'd packed her suitcases and driven a little kid four states toward a man she didn't know, the math in her head went quiet. Not silenced—it never fully silenced. But quiet enough that she could hear something underneath it—something she hadn't let herself listen to in a very long time.

Hope.

She thought about Lynlee with a staple gun and a look of pure authority. She thought about Colter turning the safety on without a word, like he'd been doing it for years. She thought about the three of them moving through the chaos of mornings like pieces that had always known where they fit.

Maybe we could actually have this.

The thought arrived so cleanly and completely that for one unguarded second she didn't fight it.

She would later, in the car on the way home. She would catalogue everything that could possibly go wrong and she would remind herself of every reason the math didn't add up—the secret she was still carrying, the conversation still waiting, the version of this that could end catastrophically.

But right now, with his hand warm at her cheek and Lynlee's voice carrying across the street Sutton let herself want the whole thing.

She had never in her life made a more dangerous decision and she had never been more excited.

Forty minutes later, with more than a hundred entries logged for the parade, Sutton jogged to the far end of Main Street. The turnout dwarfed anything she’d imagined. Even after she ran out of participant bibs, families kept signing up, so Jo planted two of her baristas at the registration table, hand-lettering numbers on the bank of flyers so Sutton could finally take her seat at the judges’ table.

The parade was minutes from kicking off, which meant Sutton needed to get herself into the judges’ table. Especially since the other two judges were Lottie and Dottie, and the only thing separating them right then was an empty chair.

“I cannot believe this turnout,” Vivi said, steering her through the crowd. “Even the Bridlewood Mommy Club showed up with strollers and toddlers in glitter headbands. I told them the winner has to be an animal, and a few said they were prepared to plead their case if selected. And look over there.”

She pointed toward a cluster at the back of Main Street. A half-dozen retired cowboys sat atop glossy quarter horses, twirling lassos and grinning like teenagers.

Vivi kept rattling off names—every resident Sutton had ever met, plus dozens she had not. Rescues from neighboring counties had driven in with crates full of adoptable animals, lines of spectators wrapped around storefronts, and the sidewalks were packed shoulder to shoulder with townspeople, waiting in anticipation for the parade.

Overwhelming was an understatement.

“Alright, when you’re up there, thank everyone for coming and give a shoutout to the stores and donors,” Vivi said, handing her a list. “This should help.”

“Wait, I have to speak?” Sutton stared at the sheet, palms slickening. It looked like Noah’s ark had capsized in the middle of downtown, and they were waiting for Noah to give instructions and half the names on the list meant nothing to her. Which begged the question—how in the world had she become Noah?

“Just remember, you’re in charge,” Vivi said, hugging her before shoving her straight toward the microphone.

Sutton stepped up, tapped the mic, and winced as the echo snapped across Main Street. The crowd went silent and, just like that, she was back in middle school, once again standing at the front of a new classroom, introducing herself to strangers who might love her or ignore her.

“Hi,” Sutton started, voice steadying. “I’m Sutton Rose and I want to thank you all for coming out for the first annual Paws for the Cause Parade.”