“Come on,” Arden encouraged. “Before this whole house stinks like Gretzky’s butt forever.”
That had Luca giggling and following after Arden. The moment the two of them and the dogs disappeared outside, I took the phone from Sutton.
“Cope, I?—”
“What the fuck is this?” Each text was more vile than the one before.
“Roman,” she whispered.
My gaze flew from the screen to her. When I saw tears gathering in her eyes, I wanted to fucking kill someone. “You’re sure?”
She swallowed hard, trying to battle back her emotions. “He’s the only one who calls me Blue Eyes.”
My back molars ground together, but I gently pulled Sutton into my arms. I lifted a hand, my fingers skimming the delicate skin beneath one of her hypnotizing orbs. “Warrior, your eyes are so much more than blue. They’re like a sea in the tropics. They change shades and tones with your emotions. They’ll dip into a storm with your fierceness or spark with light when I take you. And they turn this soft teal when you look at Luca.”
Sutton’s breath hitched on a hiccupped sob. “Cope.”
“You aren’t anything he said you are. You’re so much more.”
She pressed her face into my chest, burrowing into me. “I don’t even recognize him anymore. He used to be funny. Caring. It used to matter to him that we were taken care of. He doesn’t even use Luca’s name.”
A pang lit in my chest, agony for all Sutton had endured. I rested my chin on her head and held her to me. “Sometimes, that kind of poison changes you. Morphs your mind.”
“Or maybe I never knew him at all,” Sutton whispered.
I wanted to fix it. Erase every ounce of pain she’d experienced at this asshole’s hands, or because of his choices—choices that had put the people he should’ve loved most at risk. But I couldn’t do anything to change the past. All I could do was make sure Sutton and Luca were safe now.
“We need to call Trace.”
Sutton pulled back, shame mixing with the torment in her eyes. “Do we have to?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry. He needs to know. We have to do everything possible to keep you and Luca safe.”
She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do it. Just get it over with.”
The defeat in her voice had rage surging to the surface again. I was going to find Roman Boyer. And when I did, there wouldn’t be a chance that he’d contact Sutton ever again.
If one thingcould be said about my family, it was that we were good in a crisis. Overbearing? Yes. Slightly unhinged? Quite possibly. But we showed up. Always. As they did for me now.
When I told Trace that we didn’t want Luca to be freaked, he said he had it covered. Apparently,having it coveredmeant as many of the Colson crew as possible descending on my house all at once.
I heard strains of sound from my mom and Rhodes in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. Trace had brought Keely with him, and she was currently having a diving-for-rings contest with Luca in the pool. Kye was apparently in charge of tossing the rings, which he did from his lounge chair, dressed entirely in black with motorcycle boots and shades in place.
Fallon sat in the chaise next to him, critiquing his form in true needling fashion. Shep and Thea tossed the ball for Gretzky on the lawn while Lolli seemed to be showing Arden some new work of art.
I could just make out snatches of conversations through the open doors, but even with Anson and Trace sitting opposite us, Sutton didn’t take her eyes off Luca. She held her breath with every dive until his head popped out of the water. Each time he hurried around the side of the pool, she tracked his every step.
“Sutton,” Trace said softly.
She jerked slightly. “Sorry. What did you say?”
I moved in closer to her on the couch, weaving my fingers through hers and simply assuring her that I was there and wasn’t going anywhere.
“When’s the last time you heard from Roman? Before this,” Trace asked. He was careful to pitch his voice at just the right volume. Years on the job had taught him how because his gruff tone could intimidate people if he wasn’t careful.
Sutton’s fingers tightened around mine in a vicious hold, and she swallowed hard. “I hear from him every now and then. I used to change phone numbers, but he always found my new ones, so I just gave up. When I block him, he only texts from a new number.”
Anson and I shared a look at that. None of that was a good sign. A guy in the throes of addiction shouldn’t have the wherewithal to find the phone number of a woman who’d moved across the country.
