Nine
Beckett
S adie’s been at my place just over a week now, and I can tell it’s driving her nuts not to be working.
I’ve offered to make a few calls, pull a few strings at the vineyard, but she keeps turning me down.
At least Alex has been quiet lately, nothing like the barrage she was getting those first few days.
I pull into the rec center parking lot just as the sun slips behind the trees, casting long shadows across the pavement. And, of course, I’m late for the weekly game with my brothers. Again.
I grab my gym bag from the passenger seat and jog toward the doors, the strap bouncing against my shoulder.
Inside, the air smells like sweat, rubber, and whatever fast food someone snuck in earlier.
The squeak of sneakers and the rhythmic slap of a basketball echo off the gym walls. They’re still warming up.
As soon as I step onto the court, Ryker fires a pass at me like he’s trying to dislocate a finger.
I catch it—barely—and shoot him a glare.
“You’re late, princess,” he notes, grinning like the overgrown menace he is.
Kingston jogs over, lazily dribbling a second ball. “Thought maybe you got lost. Or tied up with your new roommate.”
Greyson whistles low. “Maybe he likes being tied up. You never know with Beckett.”
I roll my eyes, tucking the ball under my arm. “You guys done?”
“Not even close,” Kingston says.
They’re like bloodhounds on a scent. They can smell a good story from a mile away, and apparently, I’m the story tonight.
“So,” Greyson starts, leaning back against the padded wall, “you gonna tell us how Sadie Calloway ended up under your roof?”
Ryker crosses his arms and raises a brow. “And don’t leave out the juicy parts.”
I snort under my breath. There are no juicy parts, just the kind that tie your stomach in knots and keep you up at night.
I remind them how she has no family in Paradise anymore and, currently, no job, so she showed up after she’d left Alex, who’s now texting her nonstop and being a real jerk.
Their jokes dry up fast.
“She didn’t have anywhere else to go,” I add, looking down at the ball in my hands. “And Caleb trusts me.”
Kingston’s jaw tightens. “She’s lucky she found you.”
Greyson nods. “You did the right thing, Beck.”
I shrug. I know it’s right. That doesn’t make it easy.
“She okay?” Ryker asks, his tone finally serious.
“She’s tough,” I tell him, and it’s the truth. “But you know she’s been through hell, so she’s not on the strongest footing to start with. It’s gonna take time.”
They all nod.
Kingston claps a heavy hand on my shoulder. “We got your back. You know that.”
“Always,” Greyson echoes.
Ryker grins. “And if that idiot Alex tries to cause trouble, he’s got the four of us to deal with.”
I nod. It means more than I can say.
“Okay,” Ryker says, stealing the ball from under my arm. “Enough soap-opera crap. First to ten wins. Loser buys post-game beers.”
“Hope you brought your wallet, old man,” Kingston tosses the ball at Greyson with a smirk.
I laugh and fall into line with them, feeling grateful.
We start a quick two-on-two scrimmage. It feels good to move. To sweat. To not think about Sadie for five whole minutes.
But with my brothers, nothing ever stays off-limits for long.
Ryker jogs up beside me, casually bouncing the ball. “You remember Sadie back when she was a freshman?”
I glance over. “Maybe. Braces. Wild hair. Always tagging along with Caleb and me. She’s…changed.”
Ryker nods. “She was in Tarryn’s class. Kinda quiet at first. Skinny. Then boom—around seventeen, she blossomed.”
Greyson chuckles from across the court. “Yeah, I remember that. Suddenly every guy in town noticed her.”
Kingston elbows Ryker. “Especially you, if I remember right.”
Ryker shrugs like it’s no big deal. “She was cute. Still is.”
The twist in my gut comes fast and unexpected. Sadie isn’t just some pretty face. Not to me.
“But then,” Ryker says, “was the accident, in the middle of grade eleven.”
Just like that, the air goes heavy.
We all remember.
Caleb and Sadie’s parents were killed on impact in a drunk driving accident. Caleb and I were at university. Sadie was in the car, still a teenager. Nobody really knew how she survived.
“Our folks tried to step in,” Kingston muses quietly. “Tried to help them hold it together.”
Ryker nods. “Didn’t help that Sadie’s best friend was Ginny Dempsey.”
Greyson groans. “Ginny’s life was a goddamn disaster. Her parents made public screaming matches look like theater. Divorce was like a sport to them.”
“Sadie and Ginny moved into an apartment while they were still in high school, right?” Ryker adds. “Started throwing wild parties.”
Kingston grins. “Half the county showed up for those things.”
I can picture it. I wasn’t here, but Paradise is a small town. I can see Sadie laughing too loud. Masking the pain. Pretending none of it mattered. I feel a stab of sadness.
Kingston glances over. “Where’s Ginny now?”
Ryker catches the ball and smirks. “Last I heard, she was living in Vancouver or maybe Toronto.”
That answer says enough. Whatever Ginny’s doing, she’s not doing it here. I file that away for later. Right now, I just want to focus on the game.
We again split into teams—me and Ryker vs. Greyson and Kingston.
Ryker claps me on the back. “Youth versus fossils. Let’s go.”
“Keep dreaming, kid,” Kingston retorts.
And with that, the ball’s in play.
Greyson sets a pick, and Kingston drives in, but Ryker’s already there, stealing the ball with a speed that shouldn’t be possible.
“Move those old-man hips!” Ryker yells, laughing so hard he nearly trips.
I chase after him, grinning like an idiot. Greyson and Kingston are behind us, wheezing like we’re back in PE class .
“Careful,” Ryker calls over his shoulder. “I don’t wanna see you blow out a knee, Grandpa!”
“Smart mouth’s gonna get flattened,” Greyson warns.
Ryker lays the shot in with ease. “Two points for Team Young and Handsome!” he crows.
Kingston wipes his forehead. “Enjoy it while you can. After thirty, the knees go. It’s science.”
“Maybe for you dinosaurs,” Ryker fires back. “I’m in my prime.” He flexes dramatically and kisses his bicep.
I laugh so hard I have to stop, bracing my hands on my knees.
We play hard. Fast. Sloppy. But it’s good.
It’s needed.
Ryker keeps the trash talk flowing. I get in a few jabs of my own. Greyson mutters about ibuprofen and retirement. Kingston claims he’s pacing himself.
By the end, we’re all soaked, muscles aching, but souls lighter.
Ryker leans against me, pretending to limp. “Think we can get Kingston one of those little scooters?”
Kingston smirks. “You’ll be in traction before that happens.”
We grab our towels and collapse onto the benches. The laughter lingers for a second longer.
Then Ryker speaks, quieter this time. “Speaking of stretching our legs…” He tosses his towel over his shoulder. “Maybe we should pay Alex a little visit.”
Kingston looks at me. Greyson flexes his knuckles. Ryker just smiles, but it’s not friendly.
I nod. Nobody threatens Sadie. Not while she’s under my roof.
I pull out my phone, scroll, and find what I’m looking for. I show them Alex’s address.
Ryker whistles low. “Crappy side of town.”
Kingston leans in. “Of course.”
Ryker heads for his gym bag and pulls out his baseball bat .
Kingston and I exchange a look.
“You planning to swing that?” Kingston asks, one brow raised.
“Nah,” Ryker says, twirling it casually. “Just for intimidation. Unless he makes it necessary.”
I’m not sure this is the best idea. But I’m not about to talk Ryker down when it comes to Sadie. Watching over her is part of him having my back. Arguing with him won’t get me anywhere.
Outside, we pile into one car, and Kingston drives.
The sun dips lower, the leather seats sticky against our backs, tension thick in the silence.
The longer we drive, the worse the neighborhood gets.
Houses lean like they’ve given up. Porches sag under their own weight.
Lawns are nothing but weeds and dry patches littered with garbage and forgotten toys.
Fences are broken, gates hanging by rusted hinges.
Kingston slows as we approach a house behind an automotive repair shop that Alex’s brother owns, and for a second, I’m not sure how it’s even standing.
The windows are boarded up with rotting plywood, some of it peeling away like paper. A giant blue tarp stretches across the roof, weighed down with bricks, tires, and a few cinder blocks. It’s sagging in the middle, like it’s soaked through. That tarp’s been up for years. Maybe decades.
The yard is worse. A busted porcelain sink leans crookedly against a dying tree. There are at least four cars scattered across the grass—or what’s left of it—each rusted to hell, some missing doors, others propped on cinder blocks with no wheels at all.
“Home sweet home,” Ryker mutters, gripping the bat in one hand.
We get out of the Escalade. The air is thick with the smell of damp earth, old oil, and something else. Something sour and rotten that sticks in your throat.
Kingston leads the way to the door and knocks. Hard.
We wait.
And wait .
For a second, I think no one’s coming. Then the door creaks open an inch, hinges groaning like they’re about to snap.
Alex appears in the gap, barefoot and swaying, like the floor underneath him is moving. His eyes are bloodshot, glassy. His T-shirt is stained, his jeans crusted with something I don’t want to identify. He smells like booze, stale pot smoke, and rot.
How the hell did Sadie ever give this guy the time of day?
“You Alex?” Kingston asks, though he doesn’t really need to.
“What’s it to you?” Alex slurs, blinking slowly as he tries to focus.
I step forward, keeping my tone neutral, steady. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
He squints at me like I just offered him a math test.
Then he laughs. It’s a harsh, wet sound—bitter and broken.
Ryker steps up beside me, tapping the bat lightly against his palm. Just enough to make a sound. A warning. “Listen up, Alex,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re gonna leave Sadie Calloway alone. For good. If you don’t…” He pauses, gaze dark. “…you’ll be dealing with the four of us.”
The smirk slides off Alex’s face.
But not for long.
He sneers, defiant. “She stole from me,” he spits, his lip curling. “She’s no prize. I just want my stuff back.”
Every muscle in my body locks up. My vision narrows to him and him alone. “What stuff?” I ask. “Is she using?”
Alex barks out a laugh that makes my skin crawl. “She’s too prissy for that.” He sways in the doorway, voice rising as the venom builds. “Sadie’s a goddamn prude. Sucked in bed too. Wouldn’t even—”
He doesn’t finish.
Because Kingston is suddenly there, grabbing the doorframe, eyes like ice.
“You ever say her name again,” he growls, “and you’ll wish you hadn’t. ”
His voice is like a loaded gun.
Alex stumbles back, hands in the air like we’re the ones with the problem. “Fine, fine,” he mutters. “Whatever. I’m done. Just…just tell her to return what she took.”
He slams the door hard enough to rattle the house.
We wait.
One second.
Two.
Nothing.
Kingston turns to us, tension rippling through his shoulders. “That guy’s not going to touch her.”
“Yeah,” Ryker says, bouncing the bat off his thigh. “He got the message.”
I hope to God he did.