Page 78 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

CHAPTER 28

Colter looked up from the next patient’s file just in time to watch Sutton barreling through the clinic doors like a one-woman hurricane, bags swinging fast enough to take someone out at the knees. Clutched in her other hand was Lynlee, bundled in flannel pajamas, nose pink, eyes bloodshot, looking utterly miserable.

“What’s going on?” he asked, taking the bags.

“She woke up feverish and coughing,” she said, mom tone in full effect.

She swiveled in place, trying to set Lynlee down without dropping her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I should have called to tell you I’d be late. Ms. Tutty is visiting her daughter in Blue Sky, so I don’t have a sitter. And the school has strict rules about bringing sick kids to class. It’s probably just a cold, but I refuse to be the mom who starts a preschool pandemic.”

“You did the right thing bringing her in,” he interrupted softly, taking the girl from her arms. Lynlee curled against him, small hands clutching at his scrubs as she shivered. “Here, let me take her so you can set your things down.”

Sutton exhaled, placing her hundred-and-one bags on the counter. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was.”

Irma stepped into the doorway with her trademark knowing smile. “Why don’t you go get some coffee, Sutton? Dr. Callahan will bring her into his office and I’ll keep her comfortable in there while you get settled. Don’t worry about a thing.”

Sutton hesitated, glancing between him and Irma, and then gave a small, grateful nod. “Okay. Her apple juice is in the pink bag, her favorite blanket is in the canvas one, and Sir Neighs a Lot is in the blue one.”

“Sir Neighs a Lot made the trip?” Colter said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

“More powerful than a mommy’s hug. I swear.”

“I doubt that,” he chuckled, then rested a hand lightly on Lynlee’s back as he carried her toward the back office.

Sutton was still breathing heavy from the frantic start to her morning when she reached the lunchroom. Blessedly, the coffee was already brewed. She poured herself a steaming cup and breathed in the pungent goodness.

She’d just taken a sip when Irma walked in, taking in the scene like she was filing it away for later.

“How’s Lynlee?” Sutton asked.

“Tired. Grumpy. Dramatically wronged by the universe.” Irma smiled, then shrugged. “You know, your typical sick preschooler.”

Sutton huffed a laugh. “Lynlee was up most of the night with a fever. I didn’t sleep at all.” She gave a tired half-smile. “I thought about calling in sick, but I didn’t want to leave everyone short-staffed. And…” She trailed off, then said it anyway. “I need the money.”

Irma’s expression softened as she moved farther into the room, pouring herself a cup. “Being a mom doesn’t stop just because you’re at work. Some days it feels like you’re failing in two places at once.”

Sutton felt that land hard. “It really does.” She hesitated, then added, “I have to say, it’s nice having a boss who understands that. Who doesn’t make me feel like I’m asking for special treatment just because my kid comes first.”

Irma studied her for a moment, eyes sharp but not unkind. “You’re not asking for special treatment. You’re asking for reality.” She tipped her mug in Sutton’s direction. “And you’re doing a damn good job with it.”

Sutton swallowed. Praise wasn’t something she’d received a lot growing up, so it always made her uncomfortable. But coming from Irma, Sutton actually felt pride instead of the familiar urge to deflect or brush it off.

“Thank you. That means more than you know.”

Irma straightened, already shifting back into her no-nonsense stride. “This place works because the people in it do, and people don’t stop being human just because they punch a clock.” She paused at the door, glancing back. “He understands you, Sutton. The whole picture. More than most.”

Then she was gone, leaving Sutton alone with the percolating of the coffeemaker and a feeling she hadn’t realized she’d been craving—being seen, not as a problem to manage, but as someone who belonged.

Sutton sucked down her coffee and poured herself another cup before heading toward Colter’s office. She cracked open the door and nearly melted to the floor.

Colter had settled her daughter onto his couch. Lynlee’s small body sank slightly under the blankets, and Colter was crouched down to her level, lifting the thermometer carefully and checking her temperature.

Sutton’s first instinct was to step back and give him space. Her second was to remember why she’d promised herself not to imagine futures that looked like this. Not until she was sure they could be a reality.

Colter met Sutton’s gaze from the doorway and realized how easily he could get used to this kind of moment. They held each other there for a beat too long, the air between them thick with things neither of them was ready to name. Then he cleared his throat, grounding himself in the moment.

“Fever must have broken,” he said.