Twenty-five
Beckett
I ’ve been driving aimlessly for hours—back roads, long loops around the lake, streets I haven’t taken since high school.
My hands are on the wheel, but my mind is still in the hallway outside Sadie’s room, listening to the slam of her door.
Her voice still echoes in my head, sharp and shaky. Accusing. Hurt.
I was an ass.
She was already on edge after the cops showed up again, and I still pushed. I kept thinking, if she just tells them everything she knows, maybe we can get ahead of whatever this is. If Alex and Simon are tangled up in something dangerous—and let’s be honest, they always are—we need the truth.
But Sadie shut down. She’s made it clear she just wants to be done with that chapter of her life, and I’m sure she’s worried about getting in trouble or making herself a target. Avoidance is a coping mechanism for her. I know that. Yet I didn’t make it safe for her to do anything else.
At some point, I end up on the gravel road that leads to Ryker’s place. My tires crunch over stones, the trees overhead casting shadows in the glow of my headlights. It’s just past eight when I pull up. The porch light is on.
He’s outside, sitting on the steps with a beer in hand, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows. His dog, Moose, is sprawled out at his feet. Ryker watches me get out of the truck like he’s been expecting me.
“Rough day?” he asks.
“How’d you guess?”
I hold up a six-pack, and he jerks his chin toward the cooler beside him. I crack one open, take a long drink, and drop into the seat next to him.
“Let me guess,” he says. “You pushed too hard, said the wrong thing, and now you need to do damage control.”
“Something like that.”
Ryker doesn’t respond. He just waits. That’s his thing. Doesn’t offer advice until you’ve choked on your own mistakes.
“The cops came by this morning. They wanted to ask Sadie about someone. Showed her a photo.”
He nods slowly. “Jonas?”
“Yeah, Officer Goodwin. I feel like she recognized the guy, but she didn’t say so. Said she wasn’t sure. Then she went to work and came home stressed, but I still pushed her. I told her she was hiding something, accused her of lying.”
Ryker raises an eyebrow.
“She blew up. Said I was trying to control her, that I was just like every other man who’s let her down. Then she slammed herself into the guest room, and I went for a drive.”
Ryker exhales through his nose. “Damn.”
“I wasn’t trying to control her,” I say. “I just wanted to protect her.”
“Didn’t feel like that to her, though. ”
“I thought she’d want to be honest. Help get ahead of whatever mess Alex dragged her into.”
Ryker takes a slow sip of beer. “You thought safety meant answers. But for her? Safety probably looks like silence. Like shutting the door and drowning it out with music.”
I blink. “She told you that?”
“No,” he says. “But I know the type. You don’t survive something terrible without learning to stay quiet and stay out of the way.”
I stare out at the lake, the surface glassy in the moonlight.
“She’s been through hell,” I murmur.
“And you made it worse.”
The words hit hard, though they’re not mean, just honest.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know,” he says. “But meaning doesn’t undo impact. You want to fix it, you need to own it. No excuses. No speeches. Just start by showing up different.”
I nod. “I told her she was a mess. That I was the one who kept everything together.”
Ryker whistles under his breath. “You’re lucky she didn’t hit you with a frying pan.”
“Don’t think she didn’t consider it.”
We sit in silence a while. Moose lets out a low groan and stretches. Crickets hum in the distance.
“I want to fix this,” I say. “Not just the fight. All of it. I gotta be ready before I go back home.”
“Then do the work.” Ryker leans back on his elbows. “But don’t do it for the version of her you want. Do it for the version that’s scared and scarred and still figuring out who she is.”
I sigh. Damn him for being so wise.
“I thought I’d stop by Carrie’s,” I say after a beat. “Pick up that ridiculous chocolate cake she likes.”
“The one with the edible glitter?”
“Yeah. I was thinking I’d just come home with it. No pressure, just cake—and an apology if she’s willing to hear it.”
Ryker grunts. “Not the worst plan. Carrie’s probably won’ t be open until tomorrow, though.”
“Fine. Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “All I’m saying is she smiled when she ate that cake. Laughed, even. I want to see that again.”
He lifts his beer in a toast. “Then go earn it.”
I take another drink. Hope hums under my skin, quiet but insistent. I might’ve screwed up. But I’m not done. Not yet.
I stay a little longer, drinking the last of my beer, breathing the cool night air, letting the lake and the vines remind me that some things grow slowly and some things only bloom if you tend to them with care.
I know something’s wrong the second I walk in.
The house is too quiet. Still. Not the peaceful kind of quiet that means Sadie’s curled up on the couch with a book or making something in the kitchen. This is the kind of quiet that presses against my ribs. The kind that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Sadie?” My voice echoes back at me. No answer.
I check my phone out of habit. No missed calls. No texts. She usually lets me know if she’s headed out. Sometimes a note on the counter with a crooked smiley face or a quick went to see Rosie . But there’s nothing. Not a single damn thing. Maybe she’s still angry? Still hiding in her room?
My stomach knots. I walk down the hall, calling her name, hoping for a response I know won’t come. The door to her room is cracked open now, and when I push it wide, my stomach drops like a stone.
The bed is stripped bare. The soft pink comforter she had with her? Gone. Her shoes? Her hairbrush on the dresser? Her lotion on the nightstand? Her tornado of clothes? All of it—gone. It doe sn’t just look like she left. It looks like she erased herself.
Panic rises in my throat.
I pull my phone out and call Sadie’s number. It rings once, then goes straight to voicemail.
“Sadie, please,” I say into the receiver. “Just…tell me you’re okay. I don’t know where you are or why you left, but I need to know you’re safe. Call me back. Please.”
I don’t hang up right away. Like holding on a second longer might somehow make her answer. It doesn’t.
I hang up, heart pounding and mind racing. I hit Rosie’s number. She might know something—anything. It rings twice before a nurse answers.
“Hi, Dr. Beckett. Um, Rosie’s sleeping right now,” she says. “Can I take a message?”
I clench my jaw. “Is Sadie Calloway there? Or did she stop by earlier?”
“I’m not sure. She’s not here now, but I just came on shift.”
“Right. Okay. Thanks.”
I hang up and stare at the screen. My fingers hover for a second before I try Sadie again. And again. Same result. I shoot off a text.
Me: Where are you?
Me: You don’t have to talk. Just tell me you’re okay.
Me: Please.
All of them stay marked as delivered. None of them show read.
I sit on the edge of the stripped bed, elbows on my knees, phone clutched in my hand. I try to think clearly, but everything is swirling. I don’t know her other friends. I don’t even know where she’d go. She kept her world so tightly wound, and I was just starting to get past those walls.
God, I’m such an idiot.
Then it hits me. She has my Jeep. I put a tracker dot in the glove box because I’m always forgetting where I park at the hospit al.
I open the app on my phone and check. The dot pings.
It’s still in the garage. I exhale, shutting my eyes.
She didn’t take the Jeep. Leaving it behind?
That means she’s serious. She’s really gone.
I should’ve handled everything differently. I shouldn’t have snapped at her. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard when she already looked like she was drowning.
I rake a hand through my hair and lean back, staring at the ceiling like it might drop answers. But all I can hear is silence and the sharp, suffocating beat of regret pulsing behind my ribs.
I don’t know where she is.
I don’t know what she’s thinking.
And worst of all, I don’t know if she’s safe.
Eventually, I force myself to get up and move, but I don’t know where I’m going. I end up in the kitchen, pacing in slow, tight circles like a caged animal.
I need to talk to someone, someone who knows Sadie, someone who might understand her better than I do.
I scroll through my contacts until I find Caleb. My thumb hovers over the button as I do the math of the time change between here and London. It’s early in the morning there. He should be at work.
I press the button and it rings. Once. Twice. Then again.
“Mate! Look at this. Beckett Paradise actually remembered I exist,” Caleb says when he answers, laughing. There’s noise in the background—muffled chatter and a car horn. “Hold on, let me get into my office.”
I wait, chewing the inside of my cheek until the noise fades.
“All right,” he says after a moment. “What’s up? You don’t usually call this early unless something’s on fire or you broke a bone. Wait, is Sadie okay?”
I hesitate, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. “Has she called you?”
He’s quiet for a beat too long. “Today? No. Why?”
“She’s gone, Caleb.” The words come out raw. “I came home a nd…she’d packed up everything. Her room’s empty. She didn’t leave a note. No call. Nothing.”
I hear him exhale sharply. “Damn. Have you tried Rosie?”
“Yeah, but she’s asleep. Nurse didn’t know anything. And Sadie’s not answering. I’ve called and texted. No response.”
“Shit,” Caleb mutters, all traces of humor gone now. “What happened?”
I rub my eyes, feeling it all crash back down.
“The police came to ask about Alex and Simon this morning. She didn’t tell them everything, and I knew it.
Later, I pushed her on it. I said things I shouldn’t have.
She shut down. I got pissed. I left the house to cool off, and when I came back she was gone. ”
“You think she left because of that?”
“I don’t know.” My voice cracks on the last word. “I don’t know anything right now.”
“I’ll call her,” he says quietly. “She might answer if she sees it’s me.”
“I was hoping she’d told you where she was going.”
“She hasn’t said anything to me,” Caleb replies. “But…she’s done this before. When things get overwhelming, she runs. That’s what she did after I went back to school. She packed a bag and left your parents’ in the middle of the night. Took me two weeks to find her that time.”
My grip tightens around the phone. “Do you think she’d go back to Alex?”
“I bloody well hope not.” His voice hardens.
“I’ll go by Alex’s place and check.” I exhale slowly. “It’s getting late, but I might drive by. Just to see.”
“Don’t be stupid, Beck. If he’s dangerous—”
“I won’t do anything reckless,” I say, lying through my teeth. “I just need to know she’s not there. Or that she is.”
“Text me the address. I’ll keep track of you.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly. “And if she calls you…”
“You’ll be the first to know.” He pauses. “You care about her, don’t you?”
I stare at the window, where her reflection should be, curled up with a blanket and tea. “Yeah. I do.”
“Then find her. And this time, don’t let her walk away.”
I nod even though he can’t see me. “I’ll try.”
I hang up and immediately text Caleb, giving him the address, just in case. Then I grab my keys and head out the door, the silence of the house chasing me all the way to the car.