Page 109 of Now and Then

“After coffee,” she yawns, balancing her chin on her fist, “you can have me however you want me.”

“Forever.” Emotion thickens my voice. “I want you forever.”

Sutton’s gaze lifts to mine. A tear forms at the corner of her eye. “Did you mean it?”

Do you really love me? That’s what she’s really asking. My chest aches at the thought that she might doubt my words. We’ve bickered a lot over the years, miscommunicated, and weathered years of confusion. She’s seen me with other women. Does she think this won’t last?

“I mean every word.”

She exhales, shifting beside me, and the air between us suddenly changes. Less heat, more hesitation. Another worry is there in her eyes before she speaks. “Hunter,” she says softly, “we didn’t use anything last night.”

Her words hit hard, slicing through the haze of warmth.

“I know,” I say, my voice rough. “I’m sorry, Sut. I wasn’t thinking about anything but you.” I blink, replaying flashes of skin, the look in her eyes when we’d finally joined, the sound of her breathing, and the slight tremors as she climaxed.

“What if—” She swallows. “You know what, never mind.”

A lump forms in my throat. I’ve never gone without protection before, but I’d been so focused on her, on finally being with her, that I’d lost all sense. What was I thinking? “I’m clean,” I offer quickly as shame washes through me. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Her brow furrows. “That’s not what I was worried about.”

“I should have been more responsible.” I brush my fingers through her wayward curls. “I haven’t been with anyone in over a year, and I just had my yearly department physical—”

“Shut up.” She places her finger over my lips. “That’s not why I brought it up. I know you wouldn’t put me at risk like that.”

It could be the early hour or the post-coital haze, but I’m not tracking. She rolls her eyes in exasperation and flops onto her back. “What if I get pregnant?” she says. “We rushed past the ‘do you want kids someday’ talk and went straight to the—”

“Yes.” The word feels bigger than I expected.

Her eyes flick toward me. “Yes?”

“I want kids someday.” I roll to my side and rest my hand over her bare stomach. “But only if they’re ours. And I understand if that’s too much too soon and if it’s not something you want right now or ever.”

“It’s not.” She bites her lower lip, hiding a smile. “Too much or too soon, I mean. And I do want kids someday. It wasn’t something Brandon and I actually discussed. It just happened. But when I realized I was pregnant, I couldn’t be anything but happy, because I’d always wanted to be a mom. When I lost the baby, it broke me.” She rolls to face me. “Did you know that I used to avoid the baby aisles afterward?”

My palm finds the soft curve of her thigh, and I squeeze gently. “No. Aside from a little bit the night you miscarried, you’ve never really talked about it too much. I knew how much you were hurting but didn’t know what to say or do. And then you disappeared into your head and shut everyone out.”

Sutton pulls the blanket up, tucking it around us as I draw her closer. Her gaze never leaves mine. All the things unsaid float between us.

“I didn’t know one person could feel that much pain all at once.” A tear slips down her face. “Finding out about the baby, my gosh, Hunter, I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I was. But Brandon and I weren’t together anymore, and I was trying to wrap my mind around raising a child alone. And Dad—” She swallows hard. “We were just waiting. That was the hardest part, knowing we were losing him but not knowing when. I didn’t even get the chance to tell him about the pregnancy before he was gone. And then so was the baby. Sometimes I wonder if I’d handled Dad’s death better . . . maybe the baby would have made it.”

“No.” I cup her cheek, my thumb brushing away another tear. “Nothing you did or didn’t do caused that, Sutton. You’re blaming yourself for something you had no control over.”

“Maybe.” She closes her eyes and places her hand over mine. “I was so angry after the miscarriage. When I went shopping, I’d end up bawling in the middle of the baby aisle. I was furious that Life had taken everything from me in a matter of weeks. I couldn’t talk to Mom or Luke about it because they were navigating life after Dad too. I didn’t want to add to their pain. So, I buried it. I promised myself I’d never let my life unravel like that again.”

She sniffles and opens those emerald eyes that have always undone me. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “For being there for me. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before. Even though you didn’t know everything that was going on with me, you never left me alone in the darkness of my mind.”

Her words settle between us. I feel them in my chest, in the quiet thud of my heart. “I never would’ve left you to deal with it alone,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “I told you when we were kids I’d always be there. Even when you shut me out, I knew you weren’t gone for good. I was just waiting for you to be ready to come back.”

Her eyes glisten, and she nods slowly, like she’s finally letting herself believe it. I brush my thumb across her cheek, catching the last of her tears.

“I think I’m back now,” she whispers.

“I know.”

I press a kiss to her forehead and to her temple. When my lips find hers, her body melts into mine. As she tucks her head against my chest, her breathing evens out. Her fingers trace a zig-zag over my skin. For a while, neither of us says a word. It’s the first time in years that the silence that settles between us doesn’t ache.

She smiles and kisses my chest. “Do you have to work today?”