17. Sutton

SEVENTEEN

SUTTON

“Babe, will you get that?” Ryland asks. I’m in the kitchen; he’s in the laundry room. There’s something about having a tough man yet a soft partner. He helps carry the load, and I try to lighten the burden he carries on his shoulders. It’s been a learning curve. He’s been a single dad for years, and I’ve been on my own practically my whole life with mom working as much as she had to. My marriage wasn’t anything healthy like the way Ryland and I have it.

“Sure will.” I’m writing a grocery list, going over what all we’ll need from the store while we’re in town tomorrow. I’ve got a follow-up doctor appointment for my ribs, wrist, and concussion. I’m hoping we get the green light to be released for certain activities. As it is now, we have to be very careful, and Ryland is holding back. I want him to let go of his tightly held control. I want to watch him lose himself inside of me.

I drop the pen and paper, preferring to have a physical list to mark things off as we walk through the store. After tomorrow, I’m going to insist on Ryland going back to working on the ranch, and as long as the doctor allows it, I’m going to get a lot of schoolwork done. I know going back to work at the diner is going to take a few more weeks at least; the nice little attachment to my wrist will make it hard to carry a tray, refill coffee mugs, and do more without being overly cautious. Which reminds me, I need to talk to Lucy to keep her up to date on everything. When the incident occurred, Ms. Catherine told her right away. She couldn’t give me paid time off but told me I’d always have a job when I was able to return.

I open the door, thinking it’s probably one of the family members, and come face to face with someone else entirely. “Hello, may I help you?” Maybe someone wandered up here and is lost. A slight tremble rolls through my body as I worry about the unknown.

“Hi, you must be Sutton. I’m Fletcher Wild, a family friend of the Johnsons. Is Ryland around?” His name sounds familiar, but I can’t place his face. As a waitress at Down Home Diner, you see a lot of faces come and go. If they aren’t a regular, then they’re usually just passing through.

“I am. Let me go grab him.” I turn to walk away as Ryland is walking down the hall.

“Wild, what the hell are you doing here? You’re a long way away from Peachtree, Georgia and Delilah.” Ry wraps one arm around my waist; the other goes out to shake Fletcher’s hand.

“Yeah, well, Lawson called me. Told me shit was taking too damn long, and he didn’t like it. Plus, I like to piss off Sheriff Dane, step on his toes, you know? Make sure he’s taking this incident seriously.” We step back, allowing him room to enter the house.

“Babe, you want to go grab some coffee? When Wild lands on your doorstep, it’s usually with news that need caffeine or heavy liquor, and it’s too damn early for the whisky,” Ryland says. He kisses the crown of my head, squeezes my hip gently, then lets me go.

“Sure, kitchen or living room?” I ask.

“Depends. Where are you more comfortable?” Ryland cocks an eyebrow.

“Living room.” I roll my eyes. He knows this more than anyone. After eating breakfast with Case and Ryland at the kitchen table, the last thing I want is to sit on is the hard wooden chair. Even before my injuries, I never ate sitting on a dining room chair. In my bedroom it was either eating on my bed or at my desk. The chair I found on the side of the road was practically brand new. It’s padded and comfortable, not nearly as luxurious as Ryland’s recliner that I’ve overtaken. Even Case finds himself sitting with me whenever I’m resting.

“Figured. I think she’s claiming the recliner for herself. Case even calls it His Sutty’s,” I hear Ryland brag to Wild about our family dynamics.

I switch the coffee on, wait for it to percolate, and glance at my phone.

Ms. Catherine: Everyone good your way?

I smile. She’s usually not far away, but after spending so much time over here lately, I’m sure she has enough going on.

Me: We are. Wild is here. He mentioned something about the case. I think he’s also going to piss off or piss on the sheriff.

Catherine Johnson is going to get after me for talking unladylike for sure. I’ll either be pinched or given a stern talking-to.

Ms. Catherine: Well, if Wild moved his keister home, Dane would be gone. I swear the sheriff drags his feet and you basically have to keep after him. I’m about tired of his shenanigans. Keep me posted.

Me: Yeah, I get the feeling Ryland is about to lose his mind. I’m going to get in there. Thank you for checking on us

Ms. Catherine: Always, sugar. Holler later on.

Me: Sure will!

The coffee pot beeps right as I put my phone back on the counter, so I grab two mugs and pour the guys their drinks. I’m caffeinated out—two is my daily limit right now. A massive change compared to before Ryland came into my life.

“Fletcher, cream or sugar?” I ask before walking over with the mugs.

“Black, please.” Ryland takes his coffee the same way, whereas I’m the complete and total opposite. I like mine nice and sweet; the more sugar the better.

The two guys have their heads together, talking quietly, and while I can make a big stink out of them doing so without my presence, Ryland will tell me later when we’re in bed, talking as we slowly unwind.

“Thank you, Sutton. Sorry we’re meeting on shitty terms. Can’t say I’m not glad this one is happy and settled down, though. It’s about damn time,” Wild says as I hand him his mug. I pass Ryland his and then make my way to the recliner.

“You’re welcome.” Thankfully, today I’m in my clothes, well, parts and pieces of them. My lounge pants and a tank top of my own without a bra. The tight band around my chest still hurts me, so I’ve taken to not wearing one, and when we go into town, I’ll put on a lose-fitting bralette. It’s helped that Arrowleaf is firmly in the thick of winter and wearing jackets or hoodies hides my lack of support.

“Wild came with news. Shane made bail. He’s on pre-trial, meaning he has to check in with the courts twice a week, take a piss test, and if he pops dirty, he’ll be back in jail.” I look from Ryland to Wild, confused on why he’d need to take a drug test.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“During the investigation, they found drugs inside what we can safely assume is his bedroom. The reason Sheriff Dane kept him locked up as long as he did is because of the amount they found along with what he did to you.” Wild takes a sip of coffee while Ryland grumbles beneath his breath. The grip on his cup tightens to almost a breaking point.

“The next thing you need to do is head down to the station for a restraining order.” Ryland grumbles that Dane should have had that shit done already. Except getting him to do anything is like pulling fucking teeth. He’s not wrong; it’s been a week, and while Shane was in jail, the sheriff didn’t even keep us updated on anything. “Shane is also allowed back into the house to get all of his belongings. I’m going to make sure I’m there during the whole process. Ryland, I’d suggest you stay with Sutton, and I’m going to make sure no Johnson relative is there while it happens.”

My stomach drops when I think about Shane on the street, in my home, and on drugs. Jesus, being a bleeding heart really isn’t all it’s cut out to be.

“Ryland.” Emotion clogs my throat. I’m up and out of the chair, wrapped in Ry’s arms as I pour my tears along his neck. I’ve really buggered things up. Why didn’t I make him move out sooner? He has parents, though now I know the reason he was so insistent on staying. His mother would absolutely lose it if she found her precious golden boy is doing drugs.

“I got you, babe. Let it out,” Ryland soothes me, giving me enough time to get myself together without pushing me.

“I’m okay, promise. I’m sorry. I just had no idea.” I lift my head and look from Ry’s deep blue eyes to Fletch’s.

“You’re good. That’s all the news I have for now. Ryland will get more as I get more. Don’t forget to go down to the station tomorrow for your R.O. and call or text me before you’re on your way down. I’ll make sure I’m there.” Fletcher Wild means business. Sheriff Dane has no idea what’s coming once he and the Johnsons get ahold of him. I do believe he’ll run away with his tail tucked between his legs. The visual has me ready to giggle, but I hold back. The last thing I want to do is look like I’m losing the plot. Instead, I snuggle back into Ryland’s throat and listen to them finish their conversation.