Twenty-six
Beckett
B y the time I make it across town, the sky is ink black and the night is thick with shadows. The roads are quiet, and every traffic light seems to blink red just long enough to drive me mad.
The Tremblays’ auto shop sits at the edge of town, where the pavement starts to crack and streetlights flicker like they’re giving up.
I pull onto the gravel shoulder across the street and kill the engine.
The garage is dark, closed for the night.
Nothing but the distant hum of bugs dancing around the neon sign that reads Tremblay’s Auto & Lube .
But it’s not the garage I’m interested in. It’s the house beside it—if you can call it that. I hate that this used to be Sadie’s life, and that she tried to hide it from me. The idea of her being back here turns my stomach .
I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles pop. I shouldn’t be here. I know that. It’s late. I’m uninvited. And this guy—Alex—he’s not exactly stable. But if there’s even a chance Sadie’s inside, I have to know.
I shoot off a text to Tarryn. She’s much closer than Caleb is.
Me: If you don’t hear from me, I’m at the house next to the Tremblays’ garage. I’ll text when I leave.
Then I get out of the car, gravel crunching under my boots. I climb the creaking porch steps and hesitate. The door is chipped and splintered. A small sticker on the window says Beware of Dog , but the only sound I hear is the tinny roar of a crowd from the TV inside.
It sounds like hockey. My brow furrows. Hockey? In July?
I shake it off and knock. Once. Twice. Nothing.
I raise my hand and pound harder.
After a few seconds, I hear something crash inside, then a muffled voice swearing. The door swings open violently, and Alex Tremblay stands in front of me, shirtless and disheveled, with a beer can in one hand and bloodshot eyes that don’t quite focus.
His pupils are too wide. His lips twitch like he’s trying to decide whether to laugh or lunge. He smells like alcohol, weed, and something more chemical, something sharp and toxic that clings to his skin.
“Well, look who it is,” he slurs, leaning on the doorframe. “The doctor. Sadie’s new little watchdog.”
I steel myself. “Is she here?”
He squints. “Sadie? You think she’d be here?” He lets out a harsh, humorless laugh and takes a long drink. “Nah. I don’t keep strays anymore.”
My jaw tightens. “I’m not here to fight with you. I just want to know if she’s safe.”
He lowers the can, and his face twists. “If I knew where she was, you think I’d be getting drunk watching reruns of the Stanley Cup?” He jerks his hand toward the flickering TV behind him. “She took off. Like she always does. Unstable bitch.”
I ignore the insult. “You said she took something?”
His gaze snaps to mine, suddenly sharper. “That’s none of your damn business.”
I take a slow breath. “If you’re threatening her—”
“I didn’t say I’d do anything,” he cuts in. “But if I see her again, she better be ready to pay me back.”
“For what?”
He steps forward until he’s in my space. “You deaf, doc? I said it’s none of your business. What she did—what she took—that’s between me and her.”
I hold his stare. He doesn’t blink.
My pulse hammers in my throat, but I refuse to back down. “She’s not coming back, Alex. And if I find out you laid a hand on her, I’ll make sure the police know everything. They’re already looking into you and your brother.”
His mouth twitches again—half snarl, half smirk. “Yeah? Well, tell the cops they better be faster than me.”
I’ve heard enough.
I back away slowly, not turning around until I’m off the porch and halfway to my car. I get in, lock the doors, and sit in the dark, forcing myself to breathe through my fury.
She’s not there. At least there’s that.
My phone buzzes.
Tarryn: You alive? Or do I need to send the cavalry?
Me: Alive. On my way. Be there soon.
I toss the phone on the passenger seat, shift into gear, and peel away from the curb. Outside, the night feels pitch black—no moon, no stars, just endless dark.
And somewhere in all of it…Sadie’s out there.
Alone ?
Running?
By the time I pull up to Tarryn’s place, I feel like I’ve been driving for hours, though it’s only been twenty minutes. Her porch light comes on as I kill the engine. The front door opens before I even reach the steps.
Tarryn stands barefoot in joggers and one of Dad’s old football sweaters, her arms crossed tightly. Her expression is sharp enough to cut glass.
“You look like hell,” she says as I step into the glow of the porch light.
“Feel like it,” I mutter, brushing past her and into the living room.
The scent of woodsmoke lingers in the air. The house is warm, and I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. I sink into the armchair across from her worn leather couch and rake a hand through my hair. “She’s gone,” I announce.
She doesn’t ask who. She doesn’t need to.
Instead, she walks over to the kitchen, pulls two waters from the fridge, and cracks them both open before handing me one. I take it but don’t drink.
“What happened?” she asks, folding one leg underneath her on the couch.
I stare at the floor. “We got in a fight, and I left. When I got home, she was gone. She’d packed up all her stuff and cleared out.”
Tarryn doesn’t speak, letting the silence fill the space until I force myself to go on.
“Everything was gone. I can’t get a hold of her, so I called Caleb, and then I went by Alex’s place.”
“You think she went back to him?” she asks.
“No, but I wanted to be sure.” I glance up at her. “She didn’t seem to be there. He’s drunk. Maybe high. Said she took something, and she’s going to pay for it. But he wouldn’t tell me what.”
Tarryn’s lips press into a thin line. “He’s a coward. All the Tremblays are. And he knows how to manipulate her. ”
I nod. “I think she had a bad day at work. She was stressed when she came home, even before we argued.”
She sets her water down and walks over to her desk. “Let’s check the vineyard footage.”
She powers up the screen and keys in a password. I get up and move behind her, leaning over her shoulder as she opens the security camera feed from today.
“Tell me what time she left for work?”
“Around ten,” I say. “I remember she was heading in a little later because she wanted to drop something off for Rosie first.”
Tarryn scrubs through the footage, fast-forwarding at 4x speed, her eyes moving from camera to camera—tasting room, front entrance, back office.
We watch Sadie bustle through the space. She moves fast, always two steps ahead, hair tied up, apron on. She’s graceful in the way people are when they’ve done something a thousand times. Efficient. Capable.
“She’s good,” Tarryn murmurs. “Like, really good.”
“She never stops,” I say. “I think that’s part of it. She doesn’t know how to sit still.”
Tarryn fast-forwards again, muttering, “Where the hell is Zach?” He wanders in and out but never seems to be working.
Ten minutes later, we get the answer to Sadie’s bad day. At 12:43, the front door of the tasting room swings open and someone walks in. Sadie’s body language shifts, her spine goes rigid, and her hand tightens around the glass she’s holding.
“Wait.” Tarryn slows the feed, rewinding until the figure comes into view.
“Oh, hell no,” she breathes. “That’s Julia Tremblay.”
My stomach drops.
They watch each other, eventually talking a little as Julia gets a glass of wine.
We follow them on the hallway feed as Julia trails Sadie into the back office.
“There’s no audio,” I mutter .
“Doesn’t matter,” Tarryn says. “Look at Sadie’s body language. She’s not scared, not exactly. But she’s holding herself like she’s bracing for impact.”
The footage shows them talking—Sadie standing stiff by the desk, Julia gesturing with a calm deliberateness that makes my skin crawl. Whatever she’s saying, Sadie doesn’t argue. She listens. Then, finally, she nods. Then Zach appears and points to the tasting room.
Moments later, Julia leaves.
Sadie exhales and disappears into the hallway.
“Sadie worked her ass off,” Tarryn says. “Zach didn’t lift a finger, except to find her when she took a break. Why am I paying him to do nothing?”
We fast-forward a little more. Tarryn swears under her breath as she watches Zach scroll on his phone while customers wait to be served.
“He left her alone to do everything,” she mutters. “Typical.”
I can barely focus on Zach. My mind’s still stuck on Julia.
“Could Sadie have gone with her?”
“I don’t think so. She left long before Sadie’s shift was over,” Tarryn says, clicking to the back parking lot camera. “But if Julia’s involved, Sadie’s in deeper than she let on.”
“I shouldn’t have left,” I whisper.
“You didn’t know,” Tarryn says. “You couldn’t have. Couples fight.”
But that doesn’t make the ache any less. I rise from the chair, my limbs heavy. “Thanks for looking.”
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“To find her,” I say.
I won’t stop until I do.