7. Sutton

7

SUTTON

“You need to stand right here, remember?” I asked Luca.

He nodded, his beekeeping hat sliding around on his head comically. “I’m not scared. They won’t sting me.”

I grinned at my kid. He was the coolest. And way braver than I had been when I first started this endeavor.

So many of the recipes I had called for honey, and I’d had the bright idea that I could make my own by putting hives on the roof of the building. I’d read countless articles and watched endless YouTube videos on urban beekeeping, trying to learn how to do it. While we didn’t live in a city, we didn’t have acres of land to install hives on the ground either.

But this worked. I had three hives and plenty of potted flowers that Thea helped me keep alive since I did not have a green thumb. So, the bees had plenty to feed on up here. Luca and I had built our hives together over a series of weekends last year. Now, it was time to harvest the honey.

There was something about the meditative place I had to go to when tending the bees. Not letting tiny displays of aggression or the fear of being stung stop me. Because at the end of the day, I knew we were helping each other.

I sprayed the mix of essential oils that sent the bees deeper into the hive so I could remove the honeycomb on the highest level. This was the overflow, so they’d still have enough to sustain them in winter—and winters in Sparrow Falls could be brutal.

My fingers tightened around the hive tray as a couple of bees slid out and over my gloved hand. I just kept breathing, reminding myself I was safe. It had given me an exercise of sorts. A way to practice calming my mind when the fear hit.

That happened sometimes. A memory of the men in my apartment. The feel of the boot cracking my ribs. My lip splitting. The pain. The terror that they’d get to Luca.

Keep breathing.

I lifted the first tray and laid it on the cart. The bees on my fingers lifted, taking flight and heading back into the hive. I admired their bravery. Their intelligence. They knew how to get themselves out of bad situations and find someplace safe. We were similar that way.

“They’re pretty,” Luca said from behind me. “And I like their sounds. It’s like one of those big concerts. You know, with all the instruments?”

“A symphony?” I asked.

Luca nodded as I pulled out another tray. “Buzzing together and making music.”

I liked thinking of it that way. And they were working together to create. Honey, a home, safety.

“Do you think Coach Reaper will be at dinner tonight?” Luca asked, moving on from the bees.

My grip on the third tray tightened. “Maybe. I’m not sure.” But I couldn’t help hoping he wouldn’t be, even though I knew Luca would be disappointed. His hero worship had reached level eleven on a chart of ten, especially after The Reaper had been the one to give Luca his nickname.

I understood the urge. I’d caught sight of Cope on the ice this week. It was breathtaking how he moved across the surface, a combination of beauty and power all wrapped up in one potent package. But the fact that he’d seen the cracks in my facade of strength had me twitchy, worried that he’d be the one to figure out all my secrets, my shame—things I didn’t want anyone to know.

“I really hope so,” Luca went on, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “I’ve been practicing all the puck-control things he taught me this week, and I wanna show him.”

My lips pressed together to hide my grin. “You’ll be able to show him on Monday.”

“I know, but sooner’s better. Then he can give me more tips. You’ll tell him how much I’ve been practicing, right, Mom?”

I couldn’t keep the grin from my face as I placed the final tray on the cart. “No kid is as dedicated as you. And I will be sure Coach Colson knows that.” Last night, I’d had to pry the hockey stick from a sleeping Luca’s hands.

“Okay, good.” Luca worried his bottom lip as I replaced the lid on the hive. “You know, maybe we could put a mini ice rink up here so I could really practice.”

I burst out laughing. “Luca. You don’t think having your own ice rink is a little extreme?”

He grinned at me, his missing incisor making him look extra adorable. “It’s worth asking, right?”

My kid. I might not have been the perfect mom, but I’d taught him to dream big.

Luca hopped from one foot to the other as I knocked on Nora and Lolli Colson’s front door. The multi-generational duo kept the working ranch in immaculate condition. I knew they had plenty of ranch-hand help, but they guided that ship.

Even though I’d been here countless times, I couldn’t help but look around in awe. The property itself was absolutely majestic, looking out at both the Monarch Mountains and Castle Rock. It was the kind of view I longed for but knew I’d have to sell a hell of a lot more cupcakes to get.

Still, I’d keep holding on to that dream. Just like I’d hold an image of this farmhouse in my mind, with its perfect white siding and picturesque wraparound porch, complete with rockers and swings.

I ached to give Luca a home like this. It was more than the sheer size and beauty of it, it was the knowledge that he could be safe running through the fields. It was the warmth that lay inside. The family that filled the structure.

I longed for that. For Luca and for me.

The door swung open, and I was met by Nora’s smiling face. Her light-brown hair was swept back in a loose bun, and she was clad in an apron. As she looked down at Luca, her green eyes twinkled. “Oh, goody, two of my favorite people.”

Luca threw his arms around her in a big hug. “Mom brought pav—pav—what is it called again?”

“Pavlova,” I said, laughter in my voice.

Nora pulled me in for a quick hug. “Ooooh, sounds fancy.”

“It’s basically meringue and whipped cream with berries. The berries are so we can make believe it’s remotely healthy.”

Nora chuckled as she released me and then motioned us in. “I like kidding myself about sugar.”

She led us into the open-plan living, dining, and kitchen area that had floor-to-ceiling windows on the back wall, allowing us to take in the glory of the view. The space was already packed with the Colson crew.

Rhodes and Anson were in the kitchen, working on what looked like a salad. Kye was kicked back in an overstuffed chair, a beer in hand. Fallon was bent over a puzzle with Trace’s six-year-old daughter, Keely, as the Colson sister I knew the least looked on.

Arden was stunningly beautiful with dark hair and eyes a mix of gray and violet, but she held things close to the vest and didn’t venture out too often. If I created the incredible sculptures that she did, I might not leave my workshop either .

Thea and Shep were cuddled together on the couch, looking as happy as could be, while Trace sat bent over his phone, fingers flying. The eldest Colson was likely neck-deep in a case of one sort or another. Over the past few months, I’d learned that no one was as dedicated to justice as he was.

I breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of Cope’s presence. He’d probably gone back to Seattle for the weekend or something. The only other person I didn’t see was?—

“Lolli!” Fallon squeaked. “What are you wearing?”

I braced as the woman in her mid-eighties appeared from the hallway doing some sort of twirl. She wore cowboy boots, a sequined miniskirt, and a T-shirt with a bedazzled pot leaf on it that read Mary Jane Queen . “What do you think? I made the shirt myself. I thought us girls could hit the town after dinner. Get us some action.”

“Supergran, you are so sparkly,” Keely whispered in awe. “Can I have a shirt just like yours?”

Lolli crossed to her great-granddaughter. “Of course, you?—”

“Don’t even think about it,” Trace warned. “It’s bad enough her camp counselor pulled me aside and told me she was talking all about this new game she heard her supergran talking about called knocking boots .”

Kye choked on a sip of beer and then raised his bottle to Lolli. “Get it, Lolls.”

She sent him a wink. “You know I will.”

Shep groaned. “Not information I need…ever.”

“Quit being such prudes. Live a little. What d’you say, girls? Cowboy bar after dinner?” Lolli asked, doing a shimmy shake.

“I can’t,” Fallon said, placing a piece in the puzzle. “I have to make a home visit after this.”

That had Kye narrowing his eyes on her. “Where?”

She let out a little huff. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Fallon…” he growled.

Over the past few months of getting to know the Colson crew better, I’d noticed that Kye was especially protective of Fallon. I understood it in a way. It was clear she had a tender heart and the two had a special bond. But there were times I swore they were communicating without words, as if they had their own silent language only they could understand.

“The Pines,” Fallon muttered, pushing to her feet.

“I’m going with you,” Kye demanded.

Fallon squared her shoulders and pinned Kye with a look that would’ve had me taking a step back. “This is my job, Kyler. I can’t have you tagging along, glaring at everyone who looks at me sideways.”

A muscle began fluttering wildly in his cheek, and his grip on the beer bottle tightened. “I’ll stay in my truck, but you’re not going alone. You know that area is rough at best.”

Her dark-blue eyes, so similar to Cope’s, flashed. “Yes. And I also know there are good people in hard situations there.”

“It’s not the good people I’m worried about,” Kye muttered.

“Take Fletcher,” Trace cut in. “He’s on duty tonight.”

“I don’t need?—”

“Fallon,” Trace cut her off. “There’s determined, and then there’s stupid. Going alone, at night, to an area that’s known for drug activity and plenty of violence borders on the latter. You know the sheriff’s department will provide backup to any social worker who requests it.”

Fallon let out a huff of breath that sent the hair around her face fluttering. “Fine.”

Kye’s grip on his beer bottle loosened, making the ink covering his hands shift sort of like an animated film. But the tension in his shoulders stayed, along with the look of worry deep in his eyes.

“ Thank you ,” Trace stressed, dipping his head to meet his sister’s gaze.

She nodded, then sent Luca a grin. “Want to come help us with this puzzle?”

He pushed in closer to me, suddenly seeming shy.

As if reading the emotion, Keely sent him a megawatt smile. “Come on, Luc. It’s really hard. We need you.”

His cheeks flushed slightly, and I swore his eyes went a little unfocused. Oh, shit. This was crush city, and I wasn’t sure how Trace would feel about that. Before I could say anything, Luca darted over to the table to join Fallon and Keely, leaving me in the dust.

“What can I get you to drink?” Thea called as she crossed to the kitchen.

I loved seeing her so at home here, so comfortable. For a woman who’d been so determined not to let anyone close, she’d ended up with a mountain of support behind her.

“I’d love some iced tea. Thank—” My words cut off as my phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket as Unknown Number flashed on the screen.

My stomach sank. I’d changed my number the day I got the flat. If this was Roman, he was getting faster at finding my new contact info. And there were only so many times I could change it before people started to notice, and I ran out of excuses.

“You okay?” The voice wasn’t one I’d expected. I hadn’t even heard Arden move, but she was by my side now, those gray-violet eyes asking a million questions. It wasn’t that she was quiet per se, she certainly spoke her mind when she had opinions about things, it was just that she didn’t feel the need to fill the quiet. She only spoke with purpose.

I forced a wide smile. “All good. Just a supplier. I need to take this. Be right back.”

With Luca happily working on the puzzle with Keely and Fallon, I headed for the back door. I didn’t stop at the deck, knowing everyone inside would watch me. I headed down the steps toward the fields of cattle and horses.

It was the horses that drew me, the way they exuded peace and power all at once. I leaned against the fence, staring down at the phone’s screen as it rang and rang. I didn’t dare answer it. I couldn’t.

After my attack, I’d hoped the silver lining would be that I could serve as Roman’s wake-up call. Instead, it drove him deeper into his dark spiral. A detective on my case told me that he’d moved on from opiates and cocaine to heroin and fentanyl.

A burn lit behind my eyes. He’d had the world at his feet once. A round-two draft pick for the Baltimore Blackbirds. One of the best wide receivers in the league. And I’d given up every dream I’d had to go with him.

Hadn’t finished college or even gotten a job once we moved to Baltimore. I hadn’t thought it would matter. We were going to build a family. That was all I focused on, so willing to let Roman take care of me that I’d forgotten all about my dreams of opening a bakery one day.

And all it took was one bad hit to change everything. One knee surgery after another. And I hadn’t realized the pills had a hold of Roman until it was too late. Until he was being booted from the team for a positive drug test and had us in an endless amount of debt.

I’d tried to help. Attempted to support Roman however I could. I got him into Narcotics Anonymous, therapy, made sure there was no alcohol in the house, and never drank in his presence. But nothing had been enough. And I was the one who paid the price. Luca and me. Because after our divorce, when I filed for full legal and physical custody, Roman couldn’t even be bothered to show up for court.

My phone flashed with a new text, and only then did I realize it had stopped ringing.

Unknown Number

Listen, you little slut. I gave you EVERYTHING. All I’m asking is for you to do me a solid and pay a little of that back. Is that too much to ask? You took everything from me.

The pressure built behind my eyes as the burning intensified.

Unknown Number

You owe me. And if I don’t get it, I’m sending Petrov’s goons after you. You know what he’s capable of.

A shudder ran through me. I was ice-cold, even though it was still in the mid-eighties. Petrov. I’d learned after my attack that Roman had gotten mixed up with Russian organized crime. And those monsters didn’t play when it came to getting their money back. But there was also no way to cut off the head of the snake.

The two men who’d attacked me were sentenced to fifteen years in prison, thanks to a shop’s security camera catching them outside my apartment building, but they’d likely get out in five. They hadn’t said a single word during their interrogations or during their trials. They’d simply accepted their sentences as their boss looked on. Someone whose eyes I felt on me in the courtroom. A boss I never wanted to see again.

A hand landed on my shoulder, and I whirled, my knee coming up on instinct, ready to fight.

“Easy, Warrior.”