Page 72 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

“About him,” Irma said quietly. “Colter isn’t as tough as he lets on. Losing his parents, keeping the ranch afloat, shouldering that kind of responsibility—those walls of his? They’re cracked right now. And when people are cracked, they break easier.”

Sutton swallowed, something uncomfortable settled in her chest. “I’d never hurt him,” she said and wasn’t that what he’d promised her yesterday?

“I know,” Irma said gently. “Just be careful with him and with yourself.”

Sutton leaned back against the counter, letting Irma’s words sink in. The quiet in the clinic hung heavy for a moment before she spoke, curiosity edging her tone.

“Speaking of keeping the ranch,” Sutton said carefully. “How close did the Callahans really come to losing it last year? I heard bits and pieces, but I don’t know the full story.”

Irma’s eyes darkened slightly, memories flickering behind them. She let out a slow sigh, as if unspooling a long-held secret.

“It was Virgil,” she began. “Their neighbor. He inherited the land from his great uncle, who had made a hand-shake deal with Colter’s granddad. But when Virgil inherited the property, he didn’t abide by the agreement and doubled the water price. It nearly sank Callahan Ranch.”

She pictured him then—not angry or not posturing just standing there with responsibility pressing in from all sides and no good options in sight. For a man whose love language was acts of service, whose instinct was to fix, provide, protect, that kind of helplessness must have cut deep, settling into his bones and teaching him early what it meant to carry weight you could not put down.

“How did they weather it?” Sutton asked.

“Vivi,” the older woman said with a grin. “She might look like a pushover but give her five minutes and she’ll have you agreeing to things you didn’t even know you wanted—while thanking her for the privilege. She reached out to Virgil asking him to change his mind, reminding him that it was the neighborly thing to do.”

Sutton couldn’t help but laugh at the image of her busybody friend trying to sweet-talk the devil himself. “And it worked?”

Irma shook her head. “God no. It didn’t settle with Virgil well. He canceled all talks with the Callahan brothers and said that the deal was off. Boone lost it, Vivi nearly left town, but it all worked out.”

“How?” Sutton said having a hard time imagining Boone saying a single negative thing about his fiancée. “They seem like the perfect couple.”

“Oh, they are,” the woman said gently. “Sometimes love doesn’t crack where you expect. Sometimes it bends under the weight of timing, of fear, of wanting to protect the other person so badly you forget to protect yourself. Perfect doesn’t mean painless, it just means they chose each other anyway, even when it was hard. It also helped that Vivi, in her own misguided way, saved the ranch.”

“Wait, she lost it, then saved it?”

“She not only sent the letter to Virgil, she secretly sent one to his great aunt too, who forced that weasel to abide by the agreement. It left scars, though. Emotional ones. Financial ones. And it made the brothers cautious, guarded. Colter’s always calculating, always ready for the next storm.”

Sutton absorbed that, the weight of it settling around her like dust.

“I get it now,” she murmured. “No wonder he keeps everything so close.”

Irma gave her a small, knowing nod. “Exactly. And right now, with the loss of his parents, that weight—well, it’s heavier than ever.” She folded her arms, studying Sutton a little more closely than before. “That makes him vulnerable. More than he’d ever admit. And people in that state can mistake comfort for something else.”

Sutton shifted, an uneasy prickle moving up her spine. “I’m not trying to be his comfort. Whatever is going on, it’s not going anywhere.”

Irma didn’t look convinced. “You say that, but I see you, too,” she said gently. “You’ve got your own cracks right now. You’re tired and searching for something. That’s a vulnerable place to stand in, Sutton.”

Sutton opened her mouth, then closed it.

“Nothing is happening,” she lied. “We were just working. That’s it.”

Irma sighed, reaching out to squeeze Sutton’s arm. “Good. Because I’d hate for either one of you to get hurt. And sometimes the worst damage comes from things we swear aren’t real.”

Sutton nodded, even as something tight and uncomfortable settled in her chest—because if nothing was happening, it wouldn’t feel like this.

CHAPTER 26

Therapy in session

SATURDAY, 5:30 PM

Boone: So Nan’s "helping out" at the Tipsy Cow tonight

Colter: Helping with what