Page 37 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

Lynlee’s face crumpled. “But you said⁠—”

“I said no live ponies,” Sutton replied gently but firmly. “That hasn’t changed. Parties are fun, ponies are big responsibilities, and Mommy’s answer is still no. Now lay back down.”

Lynlee crossed her arms, bottom lip jutting out. Sutton stayed right there with her, steadfast and unmoving. She was firm and kind, but unbudgeable when it came to parenting.

Just like his mom had been.

It caught him off guard, a small smile creeping in where grief usually settled like an old bruise. He could almost hear his mom’s voice in the exchange, see the way she would’ve backed Sutton up without hesitation, while sneaking Lynlee a conspiratorial wink about cake being better than ponies anyway.

Was the ache still there? Sure. But it had softened, reshaped itself into something easier to swallow. Something livable that didn’t feel like it was suffocating him.

Watching Sutton hold the line with quiet certainty and love, Colter realized that memories didn’t always have to hurt to matter. Sometimes they showed up like this instead—unexpected and full of light.

“Now, time for bed.” When Lynlee didn’t budge, Sutton patted the pillow. “It’s Mister Colter’s bedtime too,” Sutton said, her eyes boring into his, asking him to play along.

“Yup. I’ve got to get home and go to bed. I have work tomorrow and I don’t want to let the animals down.”

Lynlee seemed to be studying him, as if trying to figure out if he was on the up and up. He was. After a full day in the sun and balancing a fine line between treating Sutton like a friend and employee, he was hammered.

“Good night, Mister Colter.”

“Night, Princess.”

Colter left the room, giving the girls some privacy. Unsure whether to leave or wait until Sutton came out, he took a seat on the couch. Staying it was. Only as the minutes passed, he became increasingly unsure about his decision, because the longer he sat there, the more it felt like he was hovering at the edge of something private and tender that Sutton had every right to keep for herself.

He was about to leave when Sutton walked out of the room. Gone was the open smile from a moment ago. In its place was a tight, sharp look that pulled her mouth flat and set her eyes blazing. The kind of expression that warned someone they had just crossed a line, and she wasn’t about to let it slide.

“Don’t you ever make a promise to my kid without talking to me first.”

Colter raised his hands, stepping back slightly. “Whoa, hey, I didn’t mean⁠—”

“You didn’t mean? You just offered her a pony like it was candy at Halloween!” Sutton’s voice rose, with a razor’s edge of disbelief.

“I just wanted to make her happy. I didn’t think it through. I’m sorry.”

Sutton crossed her arms, still glaring. “Happy? You can’t just wave a pony in front of a four-year-old and expect zero consequences.”

“I know that now,” he said, his tone softening. “I messed up. I promise, no more surprises. Ever.”

Her eyes narrowed, skeptical. “You better mean it.”

“I do,” he said, a small, rueful smile breaking through. “Scout’s honor.”

“Were you even a scout?”

“No, but if it will make you stop looking at me like you want to cryogenically freeze my nuts, I’ll join the scouts right now.”

"There's no badge for that, but I'm sure they'd make an exception." Sutton’s lips twitched, fighting the corners of a smile. “I’m sorry if I overreacted, it’s just that Lynlee has been disappointed so many times in her little life that I will do anything to make sure it never happens again.”

“Even cryogenically freeze my nuts?” he said, smirking, though carefully keeping the tone apologetic.

“Even quitting my job.”

“Whoa. There is no world in which I would put you in a position to quit. I stepped over the line. It will never happen again.” He softened his voice. “And if I ever cross the line again let me know.”

“If you don’t know when you’re crossing the line then we have an even bigger problem than where I work.” Sutton narrowed her eyes, letting him feel the weight of her warning.

Colter raised his hands, a half-grin saying he knew when he was outmatched. “Point taken. No more surprises, I promise.”