Chapter Twenty-Two
Sadie
James Hartley is sobbing. In my arms. Sitting on the tiny loveseat in my office, where I'm sure a spring is digging into his back.
I don’t even know what happened. One second we’re fighting, then he’s mixing metaphors, talking about flies and spiders, then he goes pale and is crying and shaking and not getting a word out.
Running my fingers through his slicked back hair, I scratch his scalp and mentally dissect our conversation, trying to read between his very confusing lines.
He thinks I’m a Venus flytrap or a spider. I trick men into traps they don’t see coming, then… what? Eat them?
I wish. If I was a predator, then wouldn’t I have fought Dakota off when he tried to rape me? Or told Carson to fuck off the first time he cheated on me rather than begging him to stay? Or seen through Sage’s act before she could use me and humiliate me in front of the entire school?
Maybe I should take it as a compliment that he thinks I’m so “dangerous.” Except I remember how he spoke to me a week ago, and all I feel is annoyed.
He pulls in a shaky breath, and I rub the back of his neck.
“Either way, I lose someone I care about, and it would be my fault. I can’t let that happen.”
Of course he’s crying. He lost his sister and niece in the most horrific ways. One of his friends was murdered right before I spent a weekend without a care in the world with my family. I didn't even know until Monday and June called me.
James has lost so many people. And he’s terrified of it happening again.
But is he terrified that I’ll be the reason it happens again? Or is he terrified that it’ll happen to me? Or both?
Why do I like the idea that he’s this scared about something happening to me?
“Fuck,” he whispers a few minutes later. He pulls himself away and wipes his fingers under his eyes. “Shit. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“I didn’t mean to…”
“I know,” I say. “But it’s okay. James, you’ve been through things no one should ever experience. It’s okay to fall apart every once in a while.”
“I don’t have the luxury of falling apart.”
I scoff. “This isn’t a teen drama. You have time to cry. You’re allowed to mourn.”
“I didn’t come here to cry.”
“Yeah, you came here to yell at me and call me a Venus flytrap. What the hell is that about, anyway?”
His cheeks fill with color. “It was the first thing I thought of. Seemed appropriate. You know, plants and all.”
“Are you sure it’s not because Venus is the Roman goddess of love and beauty and sex?” I smirk and throw him a wink when he scowls.
I expect him to make a sly comment, but instead his eyes drop to my lips for a second before he says, “Maybe it's both.”
My throat feels dry when I whisper, “Careful. I’m dangerous, remember?”
“I fucking remember.”
Holy shit. The deep rumble of his voice makes my core tighten. I press my legs together, feeling all kinds of fucked up. This man was crying thirty seconds ago. His eyes are still shining from the tears. How did the switch flip this fast?
The look in his eyes is anything but sad. Suddenly, I’m aware of how small this loveseat is. His thighs are pressed firmly against mine. Welcoming heat radiates off him, beckoning me closer.
I’m about to move when I remember my promise to myself. I won’t let men walk all over me anymore. James hurt me. I don’t care if he was doing it to protect me or protect anyone else. He hasn’t apologized. And he hasn’t taken it back.
So, despite my core revolting, I stand up to put distance between us. “Maybe you should go.”
“Sadie…”
“You know, I’ve spent almost my entire life wishing I was someone else,” I say before I can think better of it.
He got to rage and cry. It's my turn to say my piece. “I’ve never felt like I was enough. I guess growing up in the land of America’s most talented and attractive will do that to a kid.
But besides my family, no one ever made me feel like I was good enough.
I moved here when I was barely twenty, not just to get away from Hollywood but to be with my fiancé.
He was in the Airforce and got stationed here.
We were together for two more years before he left me.
Do you want to know what happened in those two years?
He cheated on me. Five times. And what did I do?
I begged him not to leave me. That asshole cheated on me and I was the one in tears, begging him to love me.
Because I didn’t think I could do any better.
I didn’t think I was good enough for someone to truly love me. ”
“Sadie—”
“Let me finish.” I hold up a hand to cut him off and carefully don’t look at the pain in his eyes.
I can’t say this if I see pity written all over his face.
“I met June a month after Carter left me. For the first time in my life, I felt like someone liked me for exactly who I was and not who they wanted me to be or what they could get from me. Then Rose and Ev came along, and I had a family who wasn’t programmed to love me from birth.
They mean everything to me. But being their friend, being June’s friend, hasn’t been easy.
Because as broken as she is, she’s still the bravest, strongest person I know.
And I’ve desperately wanted to be more like her.
Dakota tried to rape me, and I laid there and let him.
You know what June did?” He nods, which doesn't surprise me. He lives with Theo, so I imagine he knows more details about June’s hobbies than I do.
“I was grateful to her, but I also resented it, because she had the courage to do what I didn’t.
So, maybe you’re right. Maybe I was trying to be June these last few months.
Or maybe I’m just trying to help my friend the way she’s helped me.
Whatever my motivations, they’re mine to deal with.
Not yours. If you don’t want my help, that’s fine. But you do not get to patronize me.”
The deep breath I take is oddly cool, like the air was purified by my words. I’m amazed that I’m not crying. I expected to feel pathetic after confessing all that shit to James, but I just feel… tired. Maybe a little mollified. His gaze isn’t pitying either. It’s regretful.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I hate that I said that shit to you. I would never want to make you feel like you’re not enough.
For the record, you’re more than enough.
You may think June is the bravest person you know, but I think it’s you.
” He must see the disbelief written on my face, because he shrugs.
“It’s true. Bravery isn’t measured by how easily you can kill someone.
I think it’s how deeply you can love after being hurt.
” He stands, stepping closer. I watch his Adam’s apple move as he swallows.
“You know, fight and flight aren’t the only threat responses, right?
” I nod, because both June and Evelyn have given me the speech I’m sure he’s about to.
“Fawn and freeze are just as valid. Just because that’s how you responded to your exes doesn’t mean you’re any less brave or worthy. ”
Logically, I agree with him. But logic means shit all when it comes to self-perception.
“I’m sorry, Sadie,” he repeats. “Truly.”
I blink, squeezing a rogue tear from my eye.
He doesn’t hesitate to reach up and wipe it away with his thumb.
Then he leaves his hand there, and I lean into his touch.
After a moment of silence, I ask, “Does this mean we’re friends again?
” I almost ask if we’re partners again, but I’m still keeping a secret from him.
My meeting with Bowie on Thursday. I should tell him.
But he’d tell me not to go. And I have to. I can’t sit by and be fucking useless all over again.
His lips press together, and his eyes jump around my face as he thinks about his response. “Part of me knows that it’s too risky. But I’m starting to realize that not having you terrifies me so much more.”
“Having me?” The question is barely more than a whisper.
James slides his hand down to my neck and steps closer. “You’re right. I guess it’s more like you have me, Venus.”
“Wha—” The word doesn’t get to leave my lips before he’s kissing me.
His hand tips my chin up so he has better access, and another lands on my hip, tugging me closer.
My glasses push hard against my nose, and he wastes no time in plucking them off and setting them on the desk so there’s no obstruction between us.
When his mouth next lands on mine, I moan, lips parting.
He takes the invitation, his tongue tasting first the seam between them, then delving further.
I grip his forearms to steady myself. His lips are deceptively soft, and his beard scratches my skin in a way I can foresee craving.
When my teeth nip at his bottom lip, he lets out a tortured groan.
Instantly, he grabs my thighs and lifts me so I’m sitting on the desk, gripping the edge.
My back bends as he pushes closer, our groins lining up.
I wrap my legs around him, lock my feet together, and grind against the very hard evidence of his enjoyment.
“Fuck,” he grunts into my mouth. His hands start exploring my body, first my arms, then my legs, then my ribs and chest. I’m sure to let him know how much I like his touch with breathy moans that drive him crazy.
His mouth leaves mine, traveling down to my neck, where he bites, licks, and sucks strategically.
He pulls my earlobe between his teeth and at the same time pinches a nipple through my shirt and sports bra.
With very little thought, I tug him closer with my feet and wrap my arms around his neck, fingers exploring the buzzed underside of his red hair.
“More,” I demand, gently pushing his head south.
He complies, but not before muttering, “Bossy.”
“Shut up.” I reach down and grab the hem of my shirt.
James parts from my body so I can tug the top off and toss it onto the desk, then starts to descend onto my breasts.
Except they’re still almost fully covered because whatever Romance Gods who exist didn’t give me a fucking heads up about this impromptu make out session, so I’m not wearing a sexy lingerie top.
No, today I just had to put on a sports bra.
At least it’s cut with a V, so there’s plenty of cleavage, which James clearly appreciates.
“Holy shit, where have these been hiding?”
“Behind this literal tit prison.”
“What do you say we free them? I think they’ve done their time.”
I laugh, more out of shock that he made a joke than the actual joke itself.
James helps pull the bra off and instantly lets out a tortured groan. “Why the hell haven’t you shown these off?”
“Because they’re giant, so a normal V-neck turns into a slutty stripper shirt when I wear it.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“People judge, James.”
“So? Do you think Venus ever once cared about the other gods and goddesses judging her for her sexuality?”
“You’re really taking this metaphor and running with it, aren't you?”
“I’m just trying to speak your language.”
“How about you stop speaking and put your mouth to better use?”
“Fucking gladly.” Then he’s sucking a nipple into his gorgeous mouth, and I can’t stop the loud moan that escapes.
James takes it as encouragement and doubles his efforts, rolling one nipple between his fingers while he bites the other.
I’m glad that men get lost in lust in moments like these, otherwise he may be grossed out by all the boob sweat.
But if the hard bulge pressing against my leg is any clue, he doesn’t care at all.
He spends so long worshiping my tits that they start to feel overly sensitive.
Eventually, he shows mercy by returning his mouth to mine, kissing with a ferocity that I feel in my bones.
He rocks against me, and I meet his thrusts, desperate for relief from the throbbing between my legs.
I start to reach for his zipper, when he stops me.
“Wait.” The word is heavy and strangled, like it was an effort to say it.
“What?”
“We’re in your office.”
“And?”
“Your employee is on the other side of that wall.”
“We’ll be quiet.”
He looks down at me, green eyes darker thanks to the blown pupils. “In no world will either of us be quiet when my cock is finally in this tight cunt.” He palms me, and I push against his touch, gasping with need. He smirks and pulls his hand back.
“Sadist,” I say.
“I have a feeling you’ll enjoy my particular brand of sadism.”
“Clocked me as a masochist, have you?”
“If I’m being honest, reading you is more difficult than I’d like to admit.” He grips my inner thighs right above my knees and hovers his face inches from mine. “Which means you’re going to have to be very vocal for me, baby.”
“Got a communication kink?”
“Is that a thing?”
“It’s 2025. Anything can be a kink.”
He blows out a short breath I think is supposed to be a laugh.
Then he drops his head to my shoulder with a tight groan.
I run my fingers through his hair, feeling the barely noticeable shift in the room.
We’re still cocooned in an air of intimacy, but it’s a different flavor now.
Not the intense intimacy from baring emotional wounds and fears or the fervent intimacy driven by a need to explore each other’s bodies.
It’s a more inviting intimacy. A familiar warmth only possible with someone your body, soul, heart, and mind have all agreed is safe.
It’s not something I would’ve imagined feeling with James. But as we sit here, unburdened of insecurities, it feels right.
And I’m simultaneously more at peace than I’ve been in a long time and filled with terror about what this means.