Five
Sadie
I linger in my room after I wake up because I can’t face Beckett right away this morning. He showed up in my dreams, and we weren’t dressed. He did all sorts of naughty things to me. And I liked them a lot.
Once I feel like he’s gone, I pad to the kitchen and use his espresso machine.
I make a nice leaf design in the foam of my cappuccino.
I plan my day a bit as I sip. I need to follow up on a few jobs, maybe find a few more, and I’d like to get over and visit Rosie at the hospital.
That’s not a very full day. I need work.
Mostly because I need to get out of Beckett’s house.
I look over into the living room. His taste is typical male—black leather couch and loveseat, glass-top coffee table and end table, and giant television.
But scattered around are tons of framed photos of his family and mementos from his life.
The place feels full of stories. It smells warm and clean, and soft morning light fills the room. I don’t belong here.
In the corner he has a Paisley Martin from her driftwood series. It’s a piece of gray driftwood dipped in silver, as if it’s submerged in water. It’s gorgeous. I wish I had some real art talent. I definitely don’t.
There’s also a framed photo of him with a bunch of kids, from India maybe.
They’re all smiles. His skin is tanned, his hair messy, and his blue eyes shine with something kind.
There’s a gentle pull I can’t ignore. Maybe I never knew him at all.
There has to be more to him than the guy who teased me on the playground.
He wasn’t that guy last night when he urged me to speak to Tarryn.
A wave of memories hits me, and I feel a little sad. I used to think I had him all figured out. But this Beckett is different. He’s full of stories, full of life. He’s getting things done. I start to feel something new, something like respect.
I wander through the living room, letting these thoughts swirl in my mind. I shouldn’t focus on who Beckett used to be. It’s about who he is now and what that might mean. Our connection is complicated, but it’s real.
I think I have to let those old memories go. I’ll carry this new understanding with me as I figure out what comes next.
I cringe as I notice that my shoes are by the couch, my sweater’s tossed over the back of a chair, and my half-finished cappuccino is making a ring on the coffee table.
I need to be more respectful of his house—and not just because he said so.
I need to stay here for a bit. He and Caleb have made me into a squatter with emotional baggage.
I fold the sweater and deposit my shoes neatly by the door. It’s a small gesture, but it’s a quiet promise to try harder. To be better. Not just for Beckett, but for myself.
When I walk back to my room, I’m hit with the aftermath of what can only be described as a clothing tornado.
My suitcase is still open on the floor, clothes spilling out like it exploded in protest. I shake my head and sigh, then start picking things up, folding, sorting.
I spot a pair of jeans draped over the end of the bed and reach for them automatically, thinking I’ll wear them today.
But when I hold them up, my stomach tightens.
These aren’t mine. They’re Alex’s. I turn them over in my hands, surprised by how unfamiliar they seem.
They’re not worn in enough to be his favorite pair.
I remember them, though. He used to wear them with a smug grin and a shirt that he claimed made him “ look put together .”
I toss them into the closet and head for the shower. I have things to do. And none of them include looking backward.
A little while later, the hospital stands tall in front of me, clean and cold, but full of life.
Rosie is here, and that reminds me that even when things feel scary, there’s hope.
I used to hate this place. This is where they brought us after the accident, and this is where my parents died.
But now I come here for Rosie. She’s too important to me to stay away.
I take a deep breath and go inside. The hallways twist and turn, filled with machine beeps and quiet conversations. People move around me—patients, families, nurses—all busy with their own problems and things to do.
When I reach Rosie’s room, I stop just outside the door and take another deep breath. I need a second to be strong. Then I walk in, and everything changes. The bed is neat, the sheets white, but it’s Rosie who shines the most. Even though she looks weak, she somehow seems full of light.
“Sadie!” she says, her face glowing with joy. She’s sitting up with pillows behind her, her dark curls wild.
When I was working at the coffee hut, I never got here this early. This is a nice change. “Hey, Rosie,” I say. “What’s up, tater tot?”
“Same old, same old. Just waiting for my golden ticket,” she jokes, patting the bed for me to sit down.
I smile. Her good mood helps me forget my troubles, even if just for a minute. “Did you have any fun dreams last night?” I ask as I sit beside her.
“Of course! I was in the jungle, dodging crocodiles,” she says, laughing. “I’m ready for a real adventure as soon as they spring me!”
“I’m up for going wherever you want. You will be the cruise director of our travel itinerary.”
She nods. “I’m getting all the research done so we don’t waste any time.”
We talk about fun stuff, skipping the scary parts of her illness—for now. But the light moment doesn’t last. There’s a knock, and when I look toward the door, Beckett is standing there. My heart jumps. I usually avoid being around when Rosie’s doctor visits.
He looks professional and calm, wearing comfy clothes. His scruffy face gives him a rugged look I didn’t expect. The way he walks into the room, gentle and quiet, makes me stop and stare. This is not how he usually is at home. He’s in professional mode for sure.
“Hey, Rosemary,” he says quietly, approaching her bed.
“Dr. Beckett!” Rosie says with a smile.
For a moment, I forget to be nervous as I watch the way they talk to each other.
Beckett nods to me and makes a few jokes as he listens to her heart and looks at the EKG machine.
Only if you’re really paying attention do you realize he’s putting her through a battery of tests.
His smile is pleasant, and the way he talks puts her at ease. Who knew he had that in him?
I mean, I guess I kind of did, after the last couple days.
He used to scare me, but now I want to know more.
Beyond the gruff exterior, grown-up Beckett seems real and kind, as long as I keep my mess reasonably under control.
And that makes my heart beat faster. Rosie laughs at something he says, and they joke back and forth.
I feel so many things at once. I’m proud of Rosie for staying strong, but I’m also drawn to this new Beckett I never realized was in there.
Then he looks over at me again, just a quick glance, but it feels like time stops. His eyes are soft, and it makes something inside me flutter. For a second, everything else disappears—my fears, our past, my worries.
I’m thankful that Rosie has someone like Beckett who can make her smile, even as she gets the care she needs. I can’t see Beckett as my childhood bully anymore. I see a man who’s been shaped by life. And I start to understand him a little better.
After a while, I stand and tell them I’m going for coffee. I need a minute to clear my head.
Rosie’s been on the heart transplant list for years, but an episode last year left her too weak to live on her own.
I offered to move in and help, but the doctors said she needed round-the-clock care, so they admitted her to the hospital.
Beckett has been managing her case ever since.
I need her to get that heart. I need her to live.
Because we have plans—real, wild, beautiful plans.
We’re going to run away the second she’s strong enough.
Paris, Rome, Tokyo—every place she’s dreamed of, I’m going with her.
We’ll eat croissants on cobbled streets, ride trains through vineyards, and swim in oceans we’ve only seen on postcards.
She keeps saying there’s still so much she wants to do, and I keep nodding like I’m not terrified.
Like I’m not silently begging the universe to give her a chance.
The smell of fresh coffee fills the air when I step into the cafeteria.
My head is spinning, and I realize I need to get serious.
I need to be reliable—for myself and for Rosie.
She’s depending on me. I don’t have time for anything other than a decent job and working on a bucket list with Rosie.
Alex was clearly a mistake, and one I don’t intend to make again.
So for now, I should just take men out of the equation.