“I’ll pay more than a dollar a day,” I say finally. “That’s ridiculous.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Fine. Two dollars.”
“Shepherd, be serious.”
“I am being serious.” He steps closer again, but not so close that I feel crowded. “Look, we can figure out the details later. Just say yes so you can finally relax and know you’re going to be okay. And so I can know you’re going to be okay. I know I can’t fix everything, nor do you need me to, but Icanfix this. I can offer you a place of your own for as long as you need it…for the low, low price of two dollars a day.”
A laugh bubbles out of me despite everything. “Two dollars a day is still ridiculous.”
“Two-fifty then. Final offer.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, and something warm unfurls in my chest.
I should say no. I should walk away right now before I get in any deeper with this man who keeps proving he’s nothing likewhat I expected. But where would I go? Back to an apartment that won’t be mine in three weeks?
“The guest house,” I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m paying actual rent. Not whatever charity amount you’re suggesting.”
“We can negotiate anything you want.” Relief washes over his face. “But you’re exhausted,” he says gently. “You’ve had a hard day and you still haven’t eaten so how about we relax and have some dinner and then we can talk.”
“Okay,” I murmur.
“Okay?”
I nod. “Okay. Thank you, Shepherd.”
His hand cups the side of my face and he places a tender kiss on my forehead. “I would do anything for you, Sutton.”
And for maybe the tenth time today, I feel something shift inside me. It’s not relief and it’s not exactly hope, but something close enough that I don’t shove it away immediately. Maybe survival doesn’t always mean doing everything alone. Maybe sometimes it means letting someone stand beside you while the storm passes.
One step at a time.
One breath at a time.
And maybe…if I’m brave enough…
One small piece of trust at a time.
15
SHEPHERD
The locker room after morning practice smells like sweat, eucalyptus muscle rub, and a few bad decisions. A standard Tuesday by all means.
Kyler Adams is sitting on the bench across from me with his helmet balanced on his knee, staring at his phone and smirking.
“What’s that face?” Boone asks from his locker. “You look like someone told you a really stupid dad-joke.”
Kyler laughs. “My sister.”
Boone snorts. “Which one?”
“I only have one. One brother, one sister.”
“Feels like more when she’s mad, though, don’t you think?”
Kyler glares at him. “She’s not mad, but yeah…you’re not wrong. She just texted me,” he continues, reading from his phone. “‘Tell Shepherd if he screws this up with Sutton, I will personally poison his protein powder.’”
My head snaps up from where I was just untying my shoe as the locker room goes quiet for a second.
“What?” I repeat, standing up so quickly I almost knock over my water bottle. “What did she say?”
