Page 79 of Untruly With You

“I’m here to see Sutton Davis,” I say, my voice hushed in the quiet space as if I’m in a church.

She nods understandingly, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. “Family?”

My answer is immediate. “Girlfriend.”

The woman’s brows crinkle. She grabs the guest check-insheet and reads it over. Then again. “You’redating Sutton Davis?”

“Yes?” I raise an eyebrow, wondering at the suspicious tone of her voice.

She raises an eyebrow right back. “Maybe it’s best if you come back another time.”

“Is he—is he in surgery or something? I can wait. I’ll wait here.”

“It’s not that. It’s… He already has a visitor right now.”

I shake my head in question, because it seems nicer than shouting,And your point is?

“A girl is seeing him right now.”

I shrug. “Probably his sister.”

The woman clicks her tongue, looking like she’s about ready to crawl out of her skin. “I’m sorry. But the girl saidshewas dating Sutton Davis.”

“That must be a mistake.” I twist the pendant on my necklace around on its chain, just to have something to do with my hands while this woman wastes my time. “What’s her name?”

She holds the sign-in sheet’s clipboard to her chest, as if afraid I would snatch it right from her hands. “Only one visitor at a time. We don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“I’m sure it’s his sister.” My voice is tight, patience waning.

The woman checks the sheet again. “She has a different last name.”

Okay, now I get why the woman is shielding the clipboard from me. I’m about three seconds from reaching over the table and wrestling her for it. I huff, close my eyes, and allow all my feelings to flow, unbridled.

Almost immediately, I feel a stinging behind my eyelids. My nose crinkles. My heart lurches against my ribs. The mere thought of Sutton lying somewhere in this hospital,connected to monitors, enduring any amount of pain, sends tears streaming down my face. I blink rapidly, trying to hold them back, but they keep falling, unchecked.

“Please,” I choke out, vaguely aware that I’m exploiting my own emotions to get what I need.

The receptionist’s brows knit while she studies me. “Alright, but don’t make a scene. He needs rest.” She hands me a visitor's pass, and I follow her directions to Sutton's room, my steps quick and purposeful, nearly at a run.

The hospital corridor is eerily quiet, the only sound from hushed conversations between nurses, beeping machinery, and my hurried footsteps echoing against the sterile walls. The closer I get to Sutton’s room, the shorter my breaths come. I can't shake the image of him being thrown from the saddle, my imagination playing out like a horror film.

I pause just outside the door, taking a moment to compose myself. The woman’s words about another visitor linger in my mind, but I push them aside, too worried about Sutton to wonder who the girl might be. After a deep breath to steady my nerves, I open the door.

The room is dimly lit. In the shadows, I see Sutton lying motionless on the hospital bed. Everything in my body tenses, threatening to shatter. Machines surrounding him sound off, providing a steady beat to the stillness. Dead asleep, he doesn’t move at the opening click of the door, but someone else does. Her brilliant red hair shines, even in near darkness.

“Hi, Laine,” Cassidy whispers, those doe eyes glistening with tears. She’s seated at Sutton’s side, her hands wrapped around his.

Even in the shadows, I can see the blush rise to Cassidy’s cheeks as she stands up. She beckons me out of the room and leads me down the hall to a sitting area. Aside from a couple of nurses meandering by the front desk, it’s just us. Cassidyperches her tall, narrow frame on one of the stiff chairs and stares down at her wedding ring, a rock of a diamond atop a thin silver band.

She’s upset, clearly. And I should probably be patient. Compassionate. But every second with Cassidy is a second spent away from Sutton, so I break the silence, ready to get whatever this is over with. “I was wondering who would have checked in as Sutton’s girlfriend.” My voice is lifeless.

Cassidy’s chuckle has no trace of humor. “She asked if I was family. I said no. She said no friends were allowed in this late. So, I said I was Sutton’s girlfriend. Well,”—she holds up her left hand, her diamond flashing at me—“I said I was his fiancée, actually.”

Much like I have a habit of doing, Cassidy spins her ring around her finger. Her bottom lip pouts out while a stray tear streaks down her mascara-stained cheek.

I take a hesitant seat across from Cassidy, my eyes never leaving her face. A cocktail of emotions swirls within me—concern for Sutton, frustration at Cassidy's timing, and a prick of awkwardness. Why is she here, anyway?

“Wells is waiting for me in the parking lot,” Cassidy says, as though she can read my mind. “He wanted to come visit Sutton, but…he didn’t have the stomach for it. He asked me to come alone and report back.”

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