Page 88 of Now and Then

“Enough for you,” she whispers against my neck, her words barely audible.

My stomach drops, and I lift Sutton onto the counter. I step between her thighs and remove my hat so I can see her more clearly. “Sutton, what are you talking about?”

“Ugh.” She closes her eyes, groaning. “Nothing. Forget I said anything. I’m being silly.”

“No,” I say firmly enough that she opens her eyes, bringing them to mine. “We’re done with the not saying what we mean. We’ve done that for too damn long. Let’s go back to when we told each other everything. What do you mean you don’t think you’re enough for me?”

This time, her eyes don’t leave mine. “What if I’m not sexy enough or flirty enough or, you know, enough in the bedroom. It’s not like I have a ton of experience.”

My brows pinch together. “First of all,” I say, “I couldn’t give a shit less about any experience you may or may not have. To be honest, if I think too hard about it, I’ll hunt each bastard down and put my fist through their face. Second of all, a lot of women struggle to reach orgasm. It doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. It means we have to find what makes you tick.”

“Hunter,” she says. “I’m trying to be cool and confident, but inside I feel like a hurricane of insecurity and jealousy.”

I exhale sharply, shaking my head. “You think you’re the only one feeling this way?” My voice is quieter now, rougher. “You know how many times I’ve wondered if I’m too much?”

Her brows pull together as she rests her hands on my stomach.

I swallow, dragging a hand through my hair. “Sutton, do you know how many times I’ve gone to bed wondering if all the people in this town will see me as nothing more than a guy who dates but never settles down?” I huff a bitter laugh. “You think I haven’t wondered if that’s all you’ll ever see when you look at me?”

She’s quiet, letting my words settle between us. “I’ll admit,” she says, “watching you date . . . well, let’s just say I’ve been a little angry at you for years.”

“You don’t say,” I give a sarcastic smirk.

She rolls her eyes. “I know, I didn’t do a very good job of hiding it. I spent years watching you move from relationship to relationship, wondering what I was doing wrong and why you never seemed to see me the way I wanted you to.”

Her lip quivers, and she looks down at the black and white patterned floor between us. “It was so hard,” she says, “having these feelings for you but also being too scared to do anything about them.”

“Sutton, I’ve always wanted you, but time was never on our side.” I step even closer, tipping her chin up. “It was the summer before your senior year. We were playing cards in the backyard, and you were kicking my ass like usual. That’s the day I knew my feelings for you were more than friends. It was also the day I knew I couldn’t have you.”

“I didn’t know,” she whispers. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

My thumb brushes her chin as I shake my head. “You deserved to explore life without me and your brother cramping your style. I thought if I kept my distance, if I didn’t let myself want you too much, you’d be able to explore life the way you wanted to, and then eventually, we’d find our way to each other. I just didn’t realize it would take this long. And there was a time I thought I’d lost you completely.”

Her lips part, gaze searching mine. “What do you mean?”

“Every time I saw you, I told myself I’d move on. That you deserved better. That maybe I wasn’t meant to have the things I wanted most.” I take a deep breath. The bathroom suddenly feels smaller somehow, the air thick with everything we’ve never said. “Do you know how hard it was when you started dating Brandon? To know any dream I had of you and me ending up together was disappearing right before my eyes the longer you two were together?”

“Hunter.” My name comes out in a whisper.

My throat tightens. “When you called me the day you miscarried, I can’t even describe how that felt. To know that you were pregnant, even if only for a little while, with another man’s baby.”

Her breath hitches, and she grips my shirt, her fingers twisting into the fabric like she needs something to hold on to.

“And then”—I clear my throat—“in one horrific night, the Sutton I’ve always known disappeared, and I didn’t know how to reach you, didn’t know how to tell you I felt this way. But then last spring, it was around the anniversary of your dad’s death, you were having a really hard day so—”

She nods, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I started staying over at your place more often.”

“Exactly.” I lower my head. “Why?”

“Being near you makes me feel safe.” Her voice is low and soft.

The noise from the party sounds through the door, but I don’t care. This bathroom has become our confessional, and I want to get everything out.

“You make me feel seen,” Sutton says. “I thought maybe, even if you didn’t see me how I saw you, that we could go back to being best friends like when we were kids, but then—”

“Colorado,” I finish for her.

She nods. “Colorado.”