Page 80 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

Colter leaned against the kitchen counter, sandwich in hand, scanning the printout from the surveyor. The property lines, setbacks, easements—all the stuff that made his head spin in ways that had nothing to do with veterinary medicine. He squinted at a line he knew was straight on the map but looked crooked in his brain.

His shoulders were stiff, eyes gritty with exhaustion, but sleep wouldn’t come. Not yet. Not when his mind kept drifting back to that kiss.

Man, that kiss.

The way her lips had felt, soft and warm, teasing him in ways that were entirely inappropriate, yet entirely intoxicating. He could still feel the pull of her, the way it made his dick tighten and his pulse spike, no matter how many times he tried to shove it down.

He fisted his fingers in his hair and pulled, frustrated that he couldn’t sleep. He should be resting so he could tackle the survey results tomorrow with a clear head. But instead, he was here, hunched over property lines and setbacks, and the memory of Sutton’s mouth was vivid enough to make him groan under his breath.

Damn it. He was too tired for this. Too responsible for this. And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her daughter, either. Earlier that day replayed in his mind whether he wanted it to or not—Lynlee’s fever-reddened cheeks, her pink little nose, the way her small body had shivered despite the blankets. It had rattled him more than he’d expected—that flash of helplessness when he realized how little control he had over something so small and vulnerable.

Then, somehow, he’d moved through it—checking temperatures, coaxing fluids, soothing her until the worst of it passed. He’d gone from useless to necessary, from standing there unsure to being the one she trusted. He’d never pictured himself caring for a kid, never thought it was a role meant for him. But something about this kid had cracked him open in a way that felt terrifying—yet completely right.

He shook his head to clear the sleep from his eyes and regain focus.

“Looks like we’re clear on the north boundary,” he muttered to himself, tracing the lines with his finger.

“Clear, but not easy,” Eli said, stepping into the kitchen and opening the fridge. His presence was calm but commanding, like he had the weight of the world balanced on his shoulders and knew how to let it press down on others just enough.

Colter raised an eyebrow. “Clear, how?”

Eli took the papers, flipping through them with his usual efficiency. “Survey’s accurate, but you’ve got drainage issues, some encroachment from the neighbor’s fence, and that old barn foundation. It’s a mess. Could be a headache if we don’t manage it properly.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“I build bridges out of toothpicks and tanks out of tinfoil,” Eli said.

“Right.” Colter groaned, setting his sandwich down. He picked back up the survey and sighed. “Messy and expensive. Just what I needed to hear.”

Eli grunted in agreement but didn’t linger on the topic. Instead, he pulled out a container of leftover fried chicken and took a seat at the table. “You ever think about the other mess you’re walking into?”

Colter frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Sutton. You think you’re just stepping in to help with a few animals and maybe a fundraiser. But single moms? They come with delicate terrain. And if things go sideways, it’s not just her who gets hurt.”

“What happened to you wanting to shoot your shot?” Colter asked.

“I was just fucking with you.” Eli grinned all toothy and irritating. “But back to the single mom thing. One of my unit mates is a single mom. They’re a different breed, man, so you’ve got to be careful how you tread.”

“You don’t need to lecture me. I got about a million reasons to keep my distance,” Colter said. “I know every single one of them by heart. Problem is, the second I’m within ten yards of her, those reasons stop sounding like warnings and start sounding like excuses.”

“Careful, excuses are just obstacles that think they’ve been outsmarted.”

“Exactly my point.”

“What about her kid?”

God, her kid.

Lynlee was some of the best parts of Sutton—a pint-sized fireball who had captured his heart.

“That’s the part that should make me break into a cold sweat.” Colter shook his head. “Instead, it does the opposite.”

“The opposite how?”

Instead of panic, there was a strange calm that settled in his chest. Not the reckless pull he was used to, but something quieter, almost heavy. The kind of feeling that didn’t ask him to run or chase, but to stay, to step closer, to take on more than he ever had before.