Except her. But she might as well be ancient history.
I’d leave this crooked, judgmental town if it wasn’t for my mother. She’s barely hanging on. Without me checking in, she’d waste away that much faster. Silo Springs has no hold on me beyond that. I scoff over the lie threatening to strangle me. There’s another reason, far more profound and significant. That truth prowls below the surface. My mother isn’t the only person I stay rooted in place for.
Try as I damn might, Sutton has a hold on me. Nothing will ever come of that unyielding grip. Especially with the shitty way I treat her. But I can’t lower my guard. The bullshit indifference is my only defense to keep Sutton at arm’s length. Nothing more will ever develop between us, but I’m tethered to her all the same. She’s the only happy something in my life. Even with the distance we’ll always keep between us.
So, I’m left in a city full of people who consider me the enemy. A worthless punk from deadbeat parents. There’s no real value to my name. I haven’t helped matters with my less than pleasant demeanor. Case in point as I sit in the bad end of a squad car.
“Did you fall asleep? That one beer must have been strong.” Lance’s scratchy tone drags me into the present.
My scowl reaches new lows. “I’m completely sober at this point, fuck you very much. Just not interested in chit-chatting with you.”
He grunts. “You’re stuck back there. Make the most of it.”
I sag against the seat and stretch my legs. “Noted.”
“I’m going to ask her out.”
“Who?” I close my eyes. Since Lance mentioned it, might as well try for a nap.
“Sutton. Weren’t you listening?”
I jolt to attention, my spine snapping ramrod straight. “And you’re taking a shot at her?” The words taste like sewage.
“Why the hell not? She deserves an honest man. I can treat her right and provide anything she needs.”
I fist my cuffed hands against the jab of harsh reality. He’s right, of course. This douche was raised on the proper side of the tracks. He’s from a family that happens to be stupid wealthy. The steady job is an added bonus. Still, he doesn’t need to gloat.
A rushed breath hisses past my lips. “Good luck with that, buddy. I’m sure she met someone in college.” The idea alone is a dagger to my frozen heart. Sutton will never be mine, but she doesn’t need random assholes pawing at her. I can’t have her. No one else should either.
Lance’s pearly whites flash in the rearview mirror reflection. “I can be patient.”
Flames spark to life in my vision. I don’t give a shit about most things. People can do just about anything to me and it doesn’t matter. I’ve already been through worse. One bright spot remains, and he’s trying to take that away.
Sutton Olsen is the only source of happy I’ve allowed myself. She’s an exception to most of my rules. But that’s a secret I’ll forever keep. It’s douchebags like Lance that will use my attachment to her against me.
Involving her in this pissing contest was a very grave mistake. If this smarmy asshole attempts to lay a finger on her, he’ll find it broken. Keeping Lance Morris away from Sutton just became a top priority.
3
Sutton
Happy something #124: The smell of fresh cut grass, especially in the morning.
Istep onto the porch and inhale a lungful of crisp air. That heavenly aroma rivals the rich hazelnut steaming from my mug. Streaks of morning sun filter through the luscious trees overhead. My mother’s beloved rooster crows from his roost on the barn roof. Getting reacquainted with this lifestyle will take minimal effort.
After taking a slow sip of coffee, I continue surveying our slice of paradise. This sprawling land is a hearty dose of pure good, and a blessing for the soul. The fringes of apprehension fade with each passing moment. I stretch my arms out to the side, feeling the stress of finals and graduation and moving home vanish.
There’s no sign of industrial smog or haze clogging the sky. The nearest glow from a stoplight is miles away. No buzz of bustling traffic can be heard. There aren’t any skyscrapers visible along the horizon. Out here, it’s just green grass and natural beauty.
Almost on autopilot, I hop down the stairs and relax into an Adirondack chair seemingly waiting for me. The sigh that escapes my lips can only be described as blissed-out. Acres of rolling fields span in every direction. Memories join my reverie, flickering within the rustic backdrop.
I can see Jace throwing baseballs into the flat tire that’s still strung up on the large oak. My mom hanging wet laundry on the clothesline because nothing bought in a store smells better than pure sunshine. I squint and imagine my dad hauling a trailer, brimming with bales, toward the barn. And Grady, of course. He appears more often than anyone else. No surprise there. His presence is root-deep, like the very soil this house sits on. But one spot stands out against the others.
Our swing still hangs from the sturdy maple branch. Goosebumps pebble along my skin when I recall the brush of his hands against me. No one pushed me higher than him, in all the ways that mattered.
“Hey, sweetie.”
The serene melody chases those thoughts up into the clouds. I shift to face my mother while she descends the stairs. “Hi, momma.”
