While I can say my father is certainly a decent looking man, youthful and fit for his age, he is in his mid-forties and Sutton doesn’t look much older than twenty-five.
“Oh.” My disappointment must seep through my mask because Sutton’s face falls and Pace’s laughter stops short. When I dart my gaze back to him, he is back to scowling at me. “Umm…it’s nice to meet you.” I paste on a smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes.
“You, too.” Her smile reappears but it’s tighter than it was before, less warm. “And up there is Pace. But you probably already know that with all the shouting. He’s your brother.”
She pauses, her eyes drifting toward where Lee drove off moments ago. “The hotheaded one is your other brother, Lee.” She waves her hand dismissively. “He’ll be back when he gets hungry.”
“Hungry or bored,” Pace mutters from the porch. “Whichever comes first.”
Sutton ignores him, turning her attention back to me with a softer expression. “Do you want to come inside? I can show you to your room, or we can sit for a bit and get you something to drink. Totally up to you.”
I glance toward the looming house. Its grandeur feels suffocating now that I’m so close. I’m used to cramped spaces and low ceilings—not marble-tiled foyers and vaulted ceilings. My instinct is to decline, to run the opposite direction, but the tightness in my chest reminds me I don’t have the luxury of turning away. Not anymore.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “A drink sounds good.”
Sutton offers a gentle nod, then gestures toward the porch. I follow her up the steps, my sneakers scraping against the worn wooden boards. As I pass Pace, he doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the weight of his stare like the heat of the midday sun, unrelenting, skeptical.
Inside, the air is cool and faintly scented with lemon polish and something heartier. Bacon, maybe, or roast beef. A massive staircase curves upward in the entry hall, and the floor is so clean I can see my warped reflection in it.
Sutton leads me through the main hall and into a sprawling kitchen with high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the back pastures. The view would be breathtaking if my stomach weren’t twisted into knots.
“Take a seat,” she says, nodding toward a long rustic table that has been carved from a single slab of tree trunk. “I’ll get you a sweet tea.”
I slide into one of the chairs, the legs scraping lightly against the tile. My fingers twitch on the table surface, unsure of what to do with themselves.
“You don’t have to be nervous, you know,” Sutton says as she pulls a glass from the cabinet. “We’re not as scary as we look.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You sure? Because Lee nearly ran me over with his attitude.”
She snorts. “Lee takes some getting used to. But underneath all that gruff bravado, he’s decent.”
I nod, though I don’t believe her.
She sets the glass down in front of me. “Here. Best sweet tea in Llano County—swear on it.”
I take a cautious sip. It’s ice-cold and tooth-achingly sweet, but somehow comforting.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice quieter than I intend.
A beat of silence passes. Sutton watches me carefully before speaking again.
“I know this isn’t easy,” she says gently. “Being uprooted, having to deal with all this… family stuff. But I hope in time, you’ll find it’s not all bad here.”
I glance at her, unsure what to say. Her kindness feels foreign. I don’t know how to accept it.
Before I can respond, heavy boots stomp across the porch again. The door swings open, and my father steps inside.
His eyes sweep the room and land on me.
“Well,” he says, setting his cowboy hat on the table. “Looks like the girl made it after all.”
I stiffen, the chill from the sweet tea suddenly doing little to cool the heat rising in my chest.
Sutton steps between us, her voice calm but firm. “John, don’t start. She just got here.”
“I’m not starting,” he mutters, but he doesn't take his eyes off me. “I’m stating the facts.”
“Facts,” I echo, standing slowly. “Like the fact you didn’t come to the funeral? Or how you couldn’t even be bothered to pick me up? Those fact?
