“And that is…?”
“Bad news.”
He came to a stop at the bottom of the porch, raising one foot to rest on the first step as he ran his thumbs under his worn, brown leather belt.
I didn’t respond to confirm or deny as he stared up at me, waiting and expecting. Instead, I sighed slowly and gave a nod in the direction of the other end of the yard.
“Take a walk with me,” I told him quietly.
“A walk?”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“Why?” he asked, frowning.
I exhaled again and walked down the steps, not making eye contact with him when I got to his level. Instead, I took a diversion to my left, ignoring his quiet calls of my name as I walked over to the training room, pushing my hand into the gaping pockets of my baggy jeans.
The only experience I had of being a father was with my club and with Tate—neither of which compared to the bond Sutton actually had with Sloane and his twin girls. I knew that. I wasn’t naive, especially since loving Ayda. I knew there were different kinds of love in this world.
I wasn’t concerned about him not following. Curiositywas Sutton’s middle name. I could hear the scuffing of his shoes across the ground as I pushed the training room door open, flicked on the lights and held the door open for him.
The acoustics of this space made it feel like even the insects could be heard talking. Everything echoed. He walked in, sheepish and quiet, that frown screwed in place as he glanced around. I let the heavy, industrial door slam shut, and I saw his body flinch before he spun around on his heels and reached for his gun.
I held up my hands and shook my head.
“Here with good intentions, Howard,” I assured him.
Not because he doubted me, but out of respect. We’d all been jumpy since that fateful night in the warehouse.
Nodding in understanding, he straightened up, never quite comfortable enough to take his hands from his holster. I guessed old habits died hard.
I walked past him like he didn’t matter, sauntering over to the bag where I’d spent so many days working out my own issues. I could feel his eyes on me. I welcomed them. Every move I made, every step I took—it was all to create a calm around him.
I slipped out of my cut, dropping it to a nearby bench before I removed my hoodie too and picked up my gloves. Sutton was burning holes in my head as he stepped forward. The clomping of his boots hitting the linoleum floor rang out around as I untied the gloves and began to loosen them up.
“Now, I know you ain’t brought me here for no sparring, Tucker.” His smug smirk was evident, even without me looking up.
I huffed out a humorless laugh. “You don’t know shit, Howard.”
“You know I’m on duty, right?”
“Yep.”
“If I get a call, I’m outta here.”
“Yep.”
“I shouldn’t be here at all.”
“Nope.”
“But you told me it was important.”
I glanced up at him through hooded eyes, assessing at him from head to toe as I checked out what he was wearing. His uniform looked stiff and tired—a bit like its owner.
“Catch,” I said without warning as I launched my gloves through the air.
Gloves I’d never let any fucker slip their hands into before.
