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I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don't apologize, Sutton. I'm not going anywhere. Your parents' opinions won't change how I feel about you.”
Sutton falls silent for a moment, her grip on my hand loosening. She looks away from me, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery. I can sense the weight of her thoughts as she processes what I've revealed to her about her parents' words.
I'm ready to reassure her, to make her understand that their opinions don't matter to me, that she's all I want. But Sutton's response catches me off guard.
"Offers?" she says in a subdued voice.
I can see she's struggling to come to terms with the implications of her father's comments, and my heart aches for her. I've just confirmed her worst fears, and it's tearing her apart.
In an attempt to reaffirm my feelings, I stammer out, "I don't want that, though. I want you."
Sutton responds with a simple "Okay," but her tone is distant, her emotions hidden. She withdraws her hand from mine and turns her body away from me, focusing on the door. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," she whispers.
I respect her decision and understand that this conversation has been incredibly difficult for her. I gently squeeze her hand in silent support and continue driving, hoping she'll open up to me when she's ready.
"Offers?" she wonders.
I have to muster all my courage to continue. "From women."
She instantly averts her gaze, focusing on the passing buildings.
Nervously, I blurt out, "I don't want that, though. I want you."
"Okay."
"Okay?" I question, my confusion overwhelming me.
She withdraws her hand from mine. "It doesn't matter what they said."
That's exactly what I wanted her to say, but I doubt she believes it.
I emphasize, "That's what I'm trying to say. It doesn't matter."
She sighs before turning her body toward the door. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," she whispers.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I agree, but inside, I'm freaking out. Sutton's not okay right now, but what else can I say?
"Will you drop me off at my dorm?" She asks, but it’s not a question.
I turn to look at her, trying to get a read on her mood. "You don't want to spend the night anymore?" I double-check, desperately hoping she changes her mind.
She shrugs. "I'm tired," she says, turning to flash me a fake, faint smile that's barely visible in the dark. "I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight."
"Yeah, okay," I agree.
What do I do now?
All I know is I don't want to avoid this. I want to address this issue sooner rather than later.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
SUTTON
"I can't helpyou if you don't talk to me," Leia insists for what feels like the hundredth time today.
I wish I could tell her, but my mouth refuses to cooperate. The words stick in my throat, as if they're caught in a tangle of shame and fear. I can't bring myself to say what happened.
