Page 53 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

Again with the blind trust. What was happening to her?

“Smartest choice you’ve made all week,” he said, giving her a look that made her toes curl.

“Or the dumbest,” she teased, heading to the front door. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

He chuckled, and the heaviness she'd seen riding him all night eased, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of the easy-going man underneath.

Colter opened the door with a small flourish. “Ladies first.”

Sutton stepped inside, following him into the ranch house and through the family room.

The space smelled like warm wood and vanilla, the sunlight slanting through the big windows catching dust motes in golden streaks. It was cozy but open, with worn leather couches, a rustic wooden table that looked like it had been carved by someone who cared, and a stone fireplace that seemed ready to swallow them in its warmth. Every corner spoke of history and memories—it spoke of a family who had lived here and loved here.

Then she heard it, the clear, bubbling laughter of Lynlee in the distance. It should have eased the knot in her stomach, but instead it made her panic a little. What would happen when—if—she told them the truth about Colter being Lynlee’s father and everything changed? After all, Sutton had infiltrated this family under false pretenses.

“It sounds like they’re in the kitchen,” Colter said as he led the way.

The moment she stepped through the doorway, her heart warmed because standing on a chair so she could reach the counter and stirring pancake batter with Vivi’s guidance was Lynlee. She had on a too-big apron, a tiara made from cardboard and tinfoil, and an array of macaroni necklaces that matched Vivi’s.

Something in Sutton’s chest loosened and tightened all at once. The sight was so achingly ordinary—flour-dusted counters, crooked crafts, a child playing dress-up—that it felt extraordinary to her, like watching a life she’d never dared to imagine unfold without asking permission first. Lynlee looked rooted there, like she wasn’t visiting or borrowing space but claiming it.

Sutton felt the familiar ache of wanting two impossible things at once: to freeze this moment exactly as it was, and to run from it before it could be taken away. Because joy had always come with an end date in her world and loving something this much made her afraid of what it would cost to keep.

“I thinks we should use the chocolate chips as the eyes and smile,” Lynlee said.

“I don’t know about that, Princess,” Boone said. He was on the other side of Lynlee, working the skillet. “That sounds more like a dessert than breakfast.”

“Mommy lets me do it.”

“Mommy only lets you do it on special occasions,” Sutton said and Lynlee looked up.

“Mommy!” she squealed with delight.

Lynlee hopped off the chair and tore through the kitchen, wrapping herself around Sutton’s waist so hard they nearly toppled over. They were both giggling as Sutton caught her just in time. And honestly, even if they had gone down in a heap on the kitchen floor it would’ve been worth it.

“There’s my girl,” Sutton said, bending to press a kiss into Lynlee’s hair and breathing in her sweet scent. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you more,” Lynlee declared, squeezing tighter, then pulling back just enough to look up at her. “Uncle Boone let me crack the eggs but not on his head, and Vivi said I’m the boss of the pancakes, and I got to stir and I didn’t spill that much.”

Uncle Boone? When had that happened?

“That much?” Sutton teased, brushing batter off Lynlee’s cheek with her thumb.

“And!” Lynlee added, hopping in place. “We made crowns and necklaces and Lady Rea says pancakes taste better when you wear a tiara.”

Sutton laughed, her throat thick as she hugged her again. “Well, clearly I missed a very important morning.”

“Uh-huh,” Lynlee said solemnly. “You gotta stay sos you can eat them. Pancakes are for family.”

Sutton held Lynlee a second longer than necessary, her chin resting on the top of her daughter’s head, breathing her in like she needed to memorize this version of the moment. Because this was the tricky part—not the lie itself, but how easy it would be to stay inside it. How natural it felt to watch Lynlee laugh with Boone, to see Vivi wipe pancake batter from her cheek like she’d done it a hundred times before, to hear Colter’s family call her Princess without hesitation or explanation.

This was the life Sutton had wanted for her. Not just safety, but roots. People who didn’t leave. A kitchen that remembered laughter. And Sutton was standing in the middle of it knowing she’d already walked out of step with the truth.

Her gaze flicked to Colter—how comfortable he looked here, how at ease watching his family orbit around Lynlee like she had always been part of the constellation. The truth pressed against her ribs because when she finally said the words—she’s yours—everything would change. There would be shock, anger, and a million questions she wasn’t sure she could answer without breaking something fragile and good.

Across the kitchen, Rea had gone still.

Not the performative stillness she deployed when she was calculating her next move—this was different—quieter. She stood with her coffee cup forgotten in her hand, watching Colter crouch down to Lynlee's level to inspect the cardboard tiara with the same focused attention he gave a complicated diagnosis. Lynlee was explaining something about the glitter—very seriously, gesturing with both hands—and Colter was nodding like the information was load-bearing.