Page 50 of Now and Then

“It’s a lot . . . keeping a secret like that for so long,” Greer says.

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“Yeah,” Navy says, “but that doesn’t mean it didn’t live inside you too.”

I glance at Navy. Her eyebrows are raised slightly.

“I’m not the one who lost everything in the span of a few weeks,” I say.

“No,” Greer says, “but you lost Sutton.”

I sit with that for a long beat, letting it sink in. “I thought I lost her long before that. When she and Brandon had been together for years and seemed only to be moving forward, I told myself that was it. That I’d missed my window.”

I sigh, dragging a hand over my mouth. “But when she called me that night . . . something changed.”

Navy and Greer go still.

“She didn’t call him,” I add softly. “She called me.” My throat tightens. “She was barely holding it together. And I remember thinking—this is it. This is the moment I either step up or step back.” I swallow hard. “I drove her home. Sat on the bathroom floor while she cried. Slept on the edge of her bed because she didn’t want to be alone. Made sure she ate. Took calls she didn’t want to answer. I became her anchor in a storm of chaos, fucking terrified of losing her.”

I drop my gaze to the counter, trying to hide the tears now streaming down my face. “Sutton was never mine to lose.”

“She’s always been yours.” Greer places her hand on my shoulder. “Just because you were never together doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt you to watch her move on with someone else, to watch her heart break from grief and be the only one who saw her most painful moments.”

“It’s not every day,” Navy says, “you have to help the love of your life mourn the loss of her baby with another man.” Navy adds, quieter now, “That’s a lot for anyone—including you—to process.”

“Maybe.” My voice drops. “That night . . . I didn’t know what to think or say or do. When she said the word baby, I was jealous. I hated myself for it. Even after she met Brandon, I kept praying that maybe someday we’d find our way to each other and she’d have my babies, not his.”

I exhale slowly. “But after that night, it stopped being about whether she’d ever choose me. I just needed her to be okay.”

“Hunter . . .” Navy sets her hand on my other shoulder and plates two more pieces of blueberry pie. “That’s not crazy, that’s love. But you don’t have to be her only anchor now. You know that, right?”

I look at Sutton and Luke on the patio. When Sutton smiles softly, my heart slows its rapid beating.

“I know,” I answer low enough that I don’t think Navy hears.

The door whispers open, and I immediately push back from the counter.

Luke doesn’t even give me an opportunity to speak before he’s across the kitchen and has me wrapped in a bear hug.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against my shoulder.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Yeah, I do.” Emotion clogs his throat, and he sniffles. “You were there for her when she felt completely alone. And you’ve been there every day since. You’re a good man, Hunter.”

I eye Sutton over his shoulder, and she gives me a lopsided smile. I don’t break eye contact with her as I say, “I’d do anything for her.”

“I know you would, bro.” Luke pats me on the back as he pulls away. “Alright, all this crying has made me even more hungry.” He rubs his stomach. “Can we have dessert now?”

We all burst out laughing. Navy slides a plate to him and hands one to Sutton. Sutton sits at the kitchen table and digs in. I grab the Cool Whip from the refrigerator and bring it to the table for her. She smiles up at me, and I know she’s recalling our argument from a few years ago over Cool Whip versus Reddi Whip.

“Cool Whip, the superior topping,” she says through giggles and places a giant spoonful on her pie. Her eyes are still glassy, but I’m happy to see her real smile again.

I laugh, swiping my finger through the giant pile of whip, then pop it into my mouth.

“Thank you,” she says suddenly, her eyes downcast.

I place my finger beneath her chin and tilt her face up to mine. “You don’t have to thank—”