Someone To Love (Skylark #1)

1. Sadie

1

SADIE

I take a deep breath, paste a smile on my face, and walk into the Cover to Cover bookstore in the heart of Skylark, Colorado.

Shelves brimming with books and assorted knick-knacks line the cozy space. The scent of old paper and fresh-baked cookies fills the air, the inviting combination encouraging a person to get comfortable and stay a while.

The conversation dies as five heads turn to stare at me like I farted in church or something.

“Good Lord, Sadie. What’s wrong?”

“You look like somebody kicked your puppy.”

“Oh my God, did someone kick one of your dogs?”

“Talk about losing it. I’ll lose it all over that dog kicker.”

“You guys, no. The dogs are fine.” I run a training and boarding facility out of my house, and sadly the pups are the only overnight visitors I can claim.

I guess the attempt to fix my face so the emotions tumbling through me aren’t written all over it is a massive fail.

The other members of the book club are seated in the charmingly mismatched chairs around the reclaimed oak table, a gorgeous charcuterie board in the center—Molly’s creation, no doubt. Molly McAllister, our local flower farmer, has the creativity to make everything she touches, floral or otherwise, look Instagram-worthy.

“No one kicked anybody’s dog.” I move forward and drop into the chair across from Iris Dixon, our town’s recently appointed mayor.

“Then what is it?” Iris frowns. “Because you don’t look so good, Sads.”

“It’s nothing.” I try to sound upbeat, but my tone is more feral cat meow than calm and positive. I don’t like talking about myself or being in the spotlight. There’s a reason I spend more time socializing the dogs I train than talking to creatures who will call me out on my obvious attempts at bullshit.

A poker player, I’m not.

“We should focus on the book.” I smile again, ignoring the ache in my cheeks. “It was really inspiring. Good pick, Sloane.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” The owner of Cover to Cover, and our book club’s founder, nods as her gaze drops to my hands. She grimaces ever so slightly. “Do me a favor, and don’t rip it up.”

I follow her gaze and see that I’m indeed holding the book in a white-knuckled grip. If I had the strength, I’d probably have already pulled the pages apart at the spine.

“We can’t concentrate until you spill it.” Avah Harris, who made the original puppy-kicking comment, leans forward in her chair. “Sloane has rosé. Do you need a glass?”

Molly tips her glass toward me. “Liquid fortitude helps sometimes. Trust me, I’m an expert.”

In addition to living with a cantankerous mother-in-law, Molly is raising her seven-year-old twins as a single parent after a river-rafting accident took her adventure-chasing husband’s life two years ago.

To be honest, it’s a wonder Molly manages her life as well as she does, with or without liquid fortitude. Despite her big talk, I’ve never seen her drink more than half a glass, always vigilant about her responsibilities. I can relate to that.

“I’m not upset.” I smooth a palm over the cover of the book then give it a gentle pat for good measure. “My sister called. She’s getting married.”

“That’s good news?” Iris asks, one delicate brow arching. “I don’t remember you mentioning Piper having a boyfriend.”

“Tonight is the first I heard about it.” I try for another smile, but the muscles of my face refuse to cooperate. “They met at the hospital where she got a job after nursing school. Turns out he’s also from Skylark.” My laugh sounds more like a cat with its tail caught in the door. “Imagine that.”

“So you know him?” Sloane asks. “Are there red flags?”

“I do know him.” I hold my thumb and index finger an inch apart. “Perhaps a teensy yellow flag. My sister’s twenty-two, but Brad—Bradley, he goes by his full name now—is my age. Eleven years older. He and I were friends in high school.”

“How close of friends?” Taylor Maxwell asks quietly. Taylor, our local librarian, does everything quietly. I might not like attention, but Taylor, with her creamy complexion and soft blue eyes, literally wilts under it.

“We were best friends. Well, I thought so anyway. We were both at CSU for undergrad. He was on a pre-med track, and I was pre-veterinary medicine. Then Mom died, and things changed.”

Iris cringes. “Is your sister marrying a guy who’s seen your hoo-ha?”

I choke out a real laugh. “No, he never—we weren’t…it wasn’t like that.”

“I remember him,” Avah says. She’s a couple of years younger than me, and we weren’t friends until we both joined Sloane’s Cool Girls Book Club. I’m not sure any of us, other than Sloane and Avah, ever identified as cool girls. “He was a dick in high school. You were too nice to notice, or at least to say anything.”

When I open my mouth to protest, nothing comes out. She’s not wrong. About him…or me. I take a healthy swig from the plastic wine glass Sloane hands me. “I might have had a small crush on Bradley back in the day.”

“Who changes their name to Bradley?” Molly throws up her hands. “I’m embarrassed for the guy.”

“He’s finishing up an orthopedic fellowship. Very prestigious, Piper tells me.”

“So when is this…happy occasion taking place?” Taylor asks.

“Fourth of July weekend in Vail.”

I close my eyes at the round of gasps that greets this pertinent detail.

“That’s like six weeks away,” Avah points out. “Is she preggers?”

“No.” I shake my head. “At least, not that she’s told me. The lodge had a cancellation, and she snagged the date. The other option was waiting a year.”

Molly sighs. It’s the sound of a woman who, in hindsight, wishes she would have waited instead of falling fast and hard for a man who was a consummate charmer and world-class rafting guide but a less-than-ideal husband. “She’s twenty-two. What’s the hurry?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I’m happy, just caught off guard. Our mom would be happy she found love.” That at least one of us has.

“Love is a many splendored thing,” Taylor announces.

The rest of us stare at her.

“It’s an old song from a movie of the same name.” A blush stains her cheeks. “My grandma used to sing it.”

Avah pats her arm. “We’ll take your word for it, sweetie.”

“Sadie, tell us how we can help.” Sloane slides into the chair next to Iris. “I’m sure you’ll have tons of planning to do with such short notice.”

I swallow back the hurt that clogs my throat. “Piper is still close with a couple of high school friends and the girls from her sorority. I guess the youngsters are doing most of the planning.”

“You’re thirty-three.” Iris looks disgusted on my behalf. “Not exactly an old maid.”

I nod my agreement, even though old maid is unfortunately my vibe. I can barely keep up with the turbulent emotions churning through me. I don’t like emotions. Compartmentalization is one of my superpowers, and I need to summon every bit of energy before I lose it in front of these women.

We’re friends, but the bond still feels tenuous—at least for me. Before Sloane asked me to join the book club, I hadn’t made close female friends since my best friend Sally and I met in second grade. She and her wife, Trina, have been it for me until the book club. Sure, I’m friendly with my clients—the ones who are still with me at any rate. But we’re not friends friends.

I love this group of women. The monthly meetings and occasional nights out in our small town mean the world to me. I don’t want to jeopardize that, and I learned a long time ago that being anything but easy and accommodating is a quick way to trouble.

“It would help if we switch topics to the book,” I say, not bothering to reach for another smile. I’m not fooling anyone.

“I agree with Sadie.” Sloane nods and then holds up our book selection for the month.

According to the book jacket bio, Kristen Quinn is a freelance writer and life coach. I’ve never met a life coach, but I could probably use one. My life is pretty pathetic. The Year of Losing It is Kristen’s debut. It documents her path to letting go of the fear she claims had overpowered her since childhood. Also relatable, sadly.

“I found the author’s journey inspiring,” Molly says.

“I like how she broke the sections down by month, so we could follow her activities as she checked each item off her list,” Taylor adds.

Sloane nods. “She really learned important stuff along the way, lessons we can each apply to our lives. She’s kind of a role model, you know?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Avah pops a piece of cheese into her mouth and chews thoughtfully. “But what did she really learn from a hot air balloon ride or doing a tandem jump out of a plane?”

Iris snorts. “Because it’s so easy to jump out of a plane? Maybe she learned to be brave. Or the value of stepping outside her comfort zone.”

“Saying yes to something big,” Molly murmurs.

“Releasing control,” I add, although the thought of jumping out of a plane makes me think about losing bladder control.

“Okay, okay. Don’t come at me.” Avah holds up a hand. Her fingers are long and slender with a subtle pink polish coloring her nails. Mine can best be described as raggedy-ass. I make a mental note to up my self-care game, but the likelihood of it happening is doubtful.

“I’m not saying a tandem jump isn’t cool,” Avah continues. “It makes a great bucket list item. But I don’t think everything she chose pushed her in a life-altering way. Sometimes she seemed more focused on hyping her basic-bitch nature girl aesthetic, and selling books, of course.”

“There’s nothing wrong with an author wanting to sell books,” Sloane shoots back.

Avah shrugs. “I’m just saying that not every experience has to be a monumental adventure to find meaning in it.”

Molly breathes out an overdramatic sigh. “Avah’s right. Sometimes getting out of bed in the morning is a monumental accomplishment, but it would make a boring story.”

I laugh at the joke before my gaze snags on Sloane. She’s swiping a hand across her cheeks, trying to wipe away the tears she can’t seem to stop.

“Hey there, girl. What is it?” I climb out of my chair and circle the table to sit in the empty one next to her, grabbing her hand.

“Did I make you cry?” Avah sounds horrified. “I’m sorry. I think getting out of your comfort zone is a good idea. We could all use it. I could use it, and I just don’t do it. Yes, I found her tone sanctimonious and?—”

“Not helping,” Molly says, elbowing Avah.

Iris, who’s sitting on Sloane’s other side, plucks a napkin from the center of the table and hands it to the bookstore owner.

“What’s going on? You don’t usually mind divisive book discussions.”

“It’s not about the book. I didn’t want to tell you guys this now. I don’t want to make book club about me and my?—”

“Oh, my God, you’re pregnant!” Molly interrupts.

Sloane laughs as she dabs the napkin at the corners of her eyes. “Hardly. It’s been so long since I’ve had sex that I might be a born-again virgin.”

“That’s not a thing,” I say quietly. I should know.

Taylor leans forward. “Please tell us you’re okay.”

Sloane wrinkles her nose. “I’ll be okay, but I’ve been getting super tired recently and feeling kind of dizzy. I went to the eye doctor thinking I needed glasses, but it’s not that.”

Before this moment, I never truly appreciated the phrase “so quiet you could hear a pin drop.” No one breathes as we wait for Sloane to say more.

“They ran some tests and…well…I have a little cancer.”

“I don’t think little is an adjective you use to describe cancer,” Avah says.

“What kind?” Iris demands.

“Acute lymphocytic leukemia.” Sloane’s voice is small. “ALL, for short.”

I open my mouth to say something—anything—to make this moment better or ease the fear in my friend’s voice, but I have no words. Luckily, Iris always has words.

“Leukemia is treatable,” she says with the confidence of a top-notch oncologist. “I knew a boy who had leukemia in third grade. He’s fine now.”

“Yeah, my brother had leukemia as a kid,” Sloane tells us. “Rates of recovery are better in younger patients, but I’ll be fine. I think.”

Molly nods. “Of course, you’ll be fine.”

“What can we do?” Iris asks, always quick to take charge.

“We can drive you to doctor appointments,” Molly offers. “Stock your freezer with meals.”

Sloane shakes her head. “They’re working on a treatment plan. Hopefully just chemo.” She laughs without humor. “I can’t believe I’m wishing for chemotherapy. Until the doctors finalize next steps, I want to act like everything is normal.”

“But it’s not,” Iris answers, always pragmatic.

“We can pretend for now,” Taylor counters, her tone adamant.

The rest of us go quiet without missing a beat because Taylor never takes a firm tone. It means something.

Sloane offers another smile. “Just saying the words out loud makes them less scary,” she tells us, flipping open the book. “I understand what Avah was saying about Kristen’s year coming off as inauthentic in some chapters. So I’d like to take this next year, or however long it takes—because we’re going to be together in this book club forever—to each check an item off our bucket list.”

What if I don’t have a bucket list?

“Something from your heart,” she continues, looking at me like she can read my mind. Damn that no poker face. “It should be scary, but also have the power to change your life.”

“Skydiving has the power to change your life.” Iris gives a mock shudder. “Especially if the parachute doesn’t open.”

Sloane takes a sip of wine. “You know what I mean. I want to do a bucket list club. I need something to take my mind off of…” Her hand is trembling so much, a bit of pink liquid sloshes over the side of the cup, and she places it back on the table. “Off of me.”

“We’ll do it,” Molly answers, glancing from me to Taylor to Iris to Avah.

They each look about as excited as I feel—which is definitely not excited—but I join them in nodding.

“Do we all pick something now or come up with ideas later?” I ask.

Molly shakes her head. “We should go one at a time, so the rest of us can support whoever is working on their bucket list activity.”

“They need to be big and meaningful,” Iris adds.

“But nothing that takes too long,” Avah blurts, then clasps a hand over her mouth. “I hate that I even said those words. I mean, we don’t want to lose momentum.”

Sloane nods. “I agree.”

There’s another beat of silence, but not the pin-drop kind. It’s heavy and tense, like each of us is well aware of the fears we want to face, but no one is quite ready to volunteer.

Sloane tucks a strand of mahogany-colored hair behind her ear. She has effortlessly beautiful hair—long and shiny, with waves that some women spend ridiculous amounts of money on products to achieve. I barely know how to use a blow dryer. My hair is dishwater blonde and streaky from hours in the sun walking dogs.

Will she lose her hair? Will the chemo get rid of the cancer? This equation has so many unknowns, and she’s asked something so small from us.

In solidarity, my hand shoots up like I’m back in the classroom. “I’ll do it. I’ll go first.”

“Thank you,” Sloane says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

“Way to get in there, Sadie Hart.” Avah points at me. “Do you need help coming up with your bucket list item?”

“No.” Sloane squeezes me tighter. “We each need to figure out a personal challenge on our own.”

“But what if we don’t have anything that challenges us?” Iris asks.

“Everyone has something.” Sloane levels a look at our meticulous, organized, some might say anal-retentive friend.

Iris lived in Skylark for a few months as a teenager before returning last year for a job in the mayor’s office. She and Sloane became friends in high school, and their bond endured. At the start of our book club meetings, Iris seemed even more uncomfortable than me at trying to make small talk, but we’re both finding our way.

“I’ll think of something when it’s my turn,” Iris promises.

Sloane pats my shoulder, then pulls her hand away. “I appreciate you going first. Take your time coming up with your?—”

“I want to have sex,” I say before I lose my nerve.

The ladies take the announcement in stride.

“We’ve already established there’s no such thing as a born-again virgin,” Molly reminds me.

“Can you be more specific?” Avah asks. “Do you want to have sex outside or with a stranger or?—”

“I’m an actual virgin.”

We’re back to pin-drop silence, and I feel like I’m going to puke. Avah and Molly gape as if I admitted to having one of those weird obsessions like eating my own fingernails.

“I didn’t date in high school.” I try to shrug off how ridiculous I feel admitting all of this, only my shoulders bob up and down like they have a mind of their own. “Or college. Then my mom died, and I was raising Piper.”

“You weren’t conjoined,” Avah points out. “And you’re not ugly.”

“Crushing it with that compliment.” Molly pats Avah’s arm. “Absolutely crushing it.”

“You know what I mean,” Avah mutters.

“It’s perfect for our bucket list club,” Sloane says, and even though I’d like to crawl under the table until my cheeks stop burning like they’re on fire, which might take a while, something in her tone makes me turn to face her.

Sloane is smiling with tears in her eyes, but not the sad kind from before. These seem grateful. “This is exactly the kind of life-changing decision I hoped you all would find a way to make. Kristen Quinn would be so proud.”

Avah lets out a not-so-delicate snort. “She’s probably sad she didn’t recount her cherry-popping for an essay she could make money off.”

“She’s not about the money,” Sloane insists.

“Girl…” Avah’s blue eyes roll to the ceiling. “Have you looked at her Instagram? She’s living life like a Kardashian.”

“We are still in the ‘you need to shut your mouth’ part of the discussion,” Molly says and grimaces at Sloane, but Avah’s not exactly wrong. She’s been sending screenshots of Kristen Quinn’s posts and stories.

Sloane waves off their concerns. “We’re talking about Sadie. This means something to her.”

“I want to do it before my sister’s wedding. If I don’t give myself a timeframe…who knows how long it will take me. I’ve already got cobwebs in my vajayjay at the ripe old age of thirty-three.”

“How can we help?” Taylor asks.

Sloane claps her hands. “Let’s set you up on a dating app.”

“You need to try The Club,” Iris suggests. “That’s the one for casual sex. Unless you want insta-love and committed sex, in which case?—”

“No dating app. I can figure this out,” I tell them. “I just needed the motivation, and now I’ve got it.”

Hopefully, by next month I’ll no longer be a virgin. What a strange and wonderful and terrifying concept. There was a line in The Year of Losing It about opening your mind to possibilities so the universe can bring you what you need. I sure as hell hope that’s the case because it’s been a very long dry spell and I need a man…stat. This could be the first step to a new and improved version of Sadie. One that’s way overdue.

“Yay for Kristen Quinn and The Year of Losing It ,” Taylor says.

“Literally,” Avah adds and gently smacks Molly on the arm. “I will not be silenced.”

“Next month, I’m bringing duct tape,” Molly answers, winking at me.