Page 124 of Third Strike Smitten

“I’m sorry, Sutton, I just don’t think I’m ready for another conver⁠—”

“Tough,” she interrupts, signaling Cal for a water. “Because I’m about to tell you something you need to hear.”

I brace myself for whatever’s coming, my fingers tightening around my beer bottle. Sutton takes a sip of her water, studying me over the rim of the glass before setting it down with deliberate care.

“You and I are, in a very roundabout way, alike.”

“Oh,” I say, tilting my head in curiosity. “So, you were in a debilitating car accident and watched your father die right next to you too?”

She shakes her head, her expression neutral. “No. I was raped, more than once, and abused by an ex-boyfriend years before I met Shepherd.”

My face falls, and I hear Tara gasp softly beside me. I lay a hand on Sutton’s knee. “Oh, my God, Sutton, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. And here I am sounding like a bratty little kid.”

“I’m not telling you for sympathy,” she says, covering my hand with her own. “And I don’t think you’d want mine either. Not really…“

She’s right. I wouldn’t.

“The point is, for years after I got away from my ex, I put up walls. Big, strong, walls of steel that I refused to let anyone break down. Even Shepherd,” she scoffs out a laugh. “God, I did not want to let him in. Not even for a second.”

A small corner of my mouth turns up. “Why did you then?”

She lifts a shoulder. “Because he showed me over and over and over again that I could trust him. And he made me feel time and time again that he was a safe place to land when I needed one. And he reminded me that no matter how long it might take me to come around, he would be there, waiting. Because I was worth waiting for. He allowed me the time and space to open up to him on my own terms, and I’ll tell you something else.”

“What’s that?”

“When the day came that I ran into my ex outside Shepherd’s locker room and found out he was working for the Portland Rush…”

Tara and I both gasp this time. “Whaaaat the fuck?”

She laughs. “Yeah. Right? Shepherd had no idea. Hell, I had no idea until I saw him that day. But when he learned about my past, he didn’t judge me or try to fix me. And he didn’t try to make it go away by asking me to get over it. He allowed me to be the…partially broken woman I was and stood by me as I slowly took my own power back from the asshole who hurt me.”

“Sounds like something a Haynes would do,” I tell her.

“Sounds like something Killian would do,” Tara mutters beside me.

She’s not wrong.

“After really getting to know them all,” Sutton continues, “I’m pretty damn sure they’d do just about anything for the ones they love.” She leans closer to me and states, “And I know for a fact that Killian Haynes is head over heels in love with you.”

“I know,” I say, too ashamed to look at her. “I know he is. And I love him too. It’s just…”

“It’s scary,” she confirms.

“Yeah.” I start to cry. “Overwhelmingly so.”

“But Sis,” She bends her head down so she sees my eyes. “You know staying isn’t the scary part, right?”

I lift my head. “No, I get that. But losing the people I love is.” The words tumble out before I can stop them.

Sutton shakes her head. “But you’re already losing him, Isla. Not to death or some tragic accident, but to your own fear. And that in itself is tragic enough. The scary part is realizing that you’ve been so focused on avoiding future pain that you’re causing present pain. To yourself and to the man who loves you with his whole heart. To the man who desperately wants you in his life. To the man who needs you almost in the same way you need him.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out because Sutton’s right. I’m so terrified of losing Killian someday that I’m losing him right now. I’m losing him to my own fear. My own inability to choose love over loss. My eyes burn at the painful truth, my tears slipping down my cheek.

“Fuck,” I cry, desperately swiping at my tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. That’s the last thing I ever want to do.”

“I know,” Sutton says softly, her hand finding my shoulder. “It’s a hard thing to see when you’re the one living it.”

I lower my hands, blinking rapidly as I stare at the television. The camera catches Killian sitting alone in the dugout, his shoulders hunched, his face a mask of frustration and something that looks an awful lot like heartbreak.