“Please don’t make me sleep over there,” Sutton murmurs from the back seat. I tense at her words, and my hackles rise at the discomfort in her tone. As a child, I uttered those words on more than one occasion, yet no one listened. And I had a good reason. The thought makes me sick. Fisher purses his lips like he’s mulling over what she just said. I’m gearing up to go to battle for Sutton, when he says, “Whatever you want, sweet pea.” He meets her gaze in the mirror. She gives him a nod, and he returns the gesture. That’s that. That conversation—that simple moment where he acknowledged her
...more
