Thirty-one
Beckett
She’s slipping closer to the edge.
“You know,” she says, her voice raspy but still laced with sass, “for a man with very nice hands, you sure have an aggressive bedside manner.”
I huff a dry laugh. “Aggressive? Rosemary, I’m a dream. Ask anyone.”
“I’d rather ask someone who hasn’t had your fingers jammed under their ribcage looking for a liver,” she says, eyes twinkling. “How’s a girl supposed to flirt when her doctor looks like he’s auditioning for th e role of Grim Reaper?”
I chuckle despite myself. “If the Grim Reaper wore scrubs and had no social life, sure.”
“Aw, don’t say that. You’ve got some social life.” She tilts her head, then lifts an eyebrow. “Or did Sadie take that with her when she moved out?”
I pause, caught mid-check of her IV line. Damn .
“Did she tell you?” I ask, trying not to let it sting. But it does.
“She mentioned it a few days ago. But I would have known.”
“You think so?”
“The whole hospital is talking about it. You’ve been moodier than usual. They’ve figured it out.”
“Aren’t you Sherlock Holmes…”
She scoffs. “Don’t need to be. I have eyes. And ears. And I live for hospital gossip. It’s all I’ve got.”
“Well, lucky for you, there is plenty of gossip in a hospital.”
“I know. There’s that nurse who was stealing morphine from the PCA pumps.”
“Wow. You really are dialed in. What are they saying about my brothers?”
The corners of her mouth turn up. “They think Greyson’s wife is already pregnant.”
I turn and stare at her. They’re newlyweds. That would be fast.
“And they’re all a-twitter when Kingston comes to the hospital for surgeries. I guess there’s a bulletin board somewhere covered in pictures taken with him. He’s the best kind of celebrity, a local who became a billionaire with an invention he developed here in Paradise.”
“Where is this bulletin board?” I can’t imagine any place that could be hidden in this hospital. But if this exists, I want to get a picture of it so I can razz him.
“I’ll never say. They don’t repeat the good stuff if you have loose lips. ”
I chuckle. “What about Ryker?”
“They think he’s fallen for someone, but they don’t know who.”
“What would make them think that?”
She sighs. “He jumps in and out of women’s beds. He’s a man whore. And suddenly, he’s not playing anymore.”
“Are you sure he didn’t get a serious case of the clap?”
Rosemary laughs and then coughs. “You should do a comedy club.”
“If you add that to your bucket list, I’ll do it.”
She smiles. “Consider it done. Promise me you won’t give up on Sadie,” she adds after a moment.
I sit on the edge of her bed and scrub my hand through my hair. “I screwed up. I pushed too hard. I accused her of keeping things from the police, and maybe she was, but I made it sound like she couldn’t be trusted.”
Rosemary hums, shifting against her pillows. “She’s been through hell and back. You know that. Sometimes people don’t talk because they’re hiding something, and other times they don’t talk because they’re scared no one will believe them.”
“I do believe her.” I stare at the floor. “That’s the worst part. I just…panicked. I wanted to protect her. Instead, I made her feel like she was dangerous to be around.”
“Have you told her you love her?” Rosemary asks, one eye squinting as she watches me.
I blink. “No.”
“Then there’s still hope.” She grins. “You Paradise men are all the same. Big hearts, tiny emotional toolkits.”
“Hey, I have tools. I just haven’t…read the instruction manual.”
She chuckles, then coughs lightly and winces. I reach for the water cup, but she waves it off.
“That girl didn’t leave because you said one wrong thing. She left because she’s used to people walking away first. If you want her back, you’ve got to prove you’re not one of them.”
My heart squeezes. “I’ve tried to reach her. She’s not answer ing my calls. I even texted Ginny. Radio silence… But she’s probably at Ginny’s.”
Rosemary’s face changes, though she tries not to give anything away. “I’m guessing you’re right. That means it’s time to go old school. Knock on some doors. Be annoying. She’s worth being annoying for.”
I smirk. “Coming from you, that’s a high compliment.”
Rosemary grins. “Damn right. Now get out of here before you start crying and ruin my street cred with the nurses.”
I rise, squeezing her hand. “Vitals are stable—for now. Don’t do anything wild while I’m gone.”
“Define wild.”
“I’m not coming back to find you doing wheelies in the hallway in a wheelchair.”
“I make no promises.”
As I step out of the room, she calls after me. “Beckett?”
I turn.
“Don’t let your pride cost you something that could be incredible.”
I think about what Rosemary said for the rest of the day. By the time I get to the rec center for our Friday night pick-up game, my brothers are already running around, shirts damp, sneakers squeaking across the hardwood. Kingston passes to Greyson, who nails a clean layup.
“Nice of you to join us,” Ryker calls as I jog in. “We figured you were either blowing us off because you’d reunited with Sadie and were having lots of sex or fell into a coma after writing Sadie’s name in a notebook a hundred times.”
“Or maybe,” I mutter, grabbing a ball and dribbling it hard, “I had work to do. ”
Greyson checks my shoulder. “You’re on my team. Let’s go.”
We set up, and I take the inbound pass. Ryker’s guarding me, crouched low, eyes sharp.
“So, who’s got you all serious?” he asks as I pivot.
I fake left, drive right, and take the lane. “No one.”
He stays tight on me. “You’re lying.”
I bounce the ball to Greyson and cut toward the basket. “I’m dodging.”
“Same thing.”
Greyson finds me on the roll. I catch, go up strong, and slam the ball into the backboard. It circles the rim and drops in.
“Two,” I say.
“Barely,” Ryker mutters. “You’ve got the touch of a sledgehammer.”
Kingston jogs past, grinning. “He’s got the mood of a sledgehammer.”
We reset. Ryker brings the ball down, showboating with a spin move that doesn’t quite land.
“Ryker, I heard you’re suddenly off the market.” I fake a pass to Greyson. “I should ask who’s got you all serious.”
Greyson catches the ball and drives. “You’re off the market?”
“Am not,” Ryker insists as he catches the rebound. “Jeez. Have coffee with someone, and suddenly, we’re in hot, passionate love?”
I stop short. “I didn’t say love. You did.”
He pounds the ball into the floor. “Whatever.”
I look at Greyson and Kingston, and it’s clear we’ve hit the nail on the head.
I steal the ball from Ryker, which is easier than usual.
“I don’t think so.” He lunges and strips it clean from me. “Still a free agent.”
“You just said you had coffee,” I call from midcourt. “You outed yourself.”
He jogs backward, smirki ng. “Doesn’t mean it was a romantic coffee. Maybe it was networking.”
“Right,” Kingston says, eyeing him. “You network with dim lighting and dessert menus?”
Laughter breaks through the sweat.
Greyson steps behind the arc, dribbling. Everyone falls quiet as he sets up. It’s his signature shot, and he never misses.
I watch his form and casually ask, “So when’s Trinity due?”
The shot sails…and dies mid-air, hitting nothing but empty space.
“Airball!” Ryker shouts.
Greyson whips around. “How the hell do you know that?”
I shrug, wiping sweat from my brow. “Rosemary told me. Apparently, that made the hospital gossip mill.”
“What?”
“The nurses talk. Also, there’s a bulletin board someplace in the hospital covered in photos of Kingston in his scrubs. Ryker’s off the market. Trinity’s got a baby bump.”
“We haven’t told anyone,” Greyson says, walking toward me. “We’re waiting until she’s twelve weeks. Haven’t even told Mom and Dad yet. Don’t repeat that.”
“Then maybe don’t get an ultrasound at the hospital,” Ryker says, passing him the ball. “It’s a little obvious.”
“Please don’t say anything,” Greyson says. “Seriously.”
“We won’t,” I say, catching my breath. “Mom and Dad are going to move into your condo after that gets out.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Greyson makes a shot from midcourt and hits the rim. “We live just down the hill from them. That’s close enough.”
The pace picks up. Sweat drips down my back. Kingston body-checks his way to the rim for a putback dunk, and we’re tied again.
Greyson inbounds to me. I pivot and scan the court, about to pass when Ryker jogs past.
“So…Sadie’s at Ginny’s now?”
The ball slips. I fumble it. It bounces once, twice, and Ryker ’s already snatched it and taken off.
“What did you say?” I call.
He doesn’t answer. He just drives to the hoop and lays it in easy.
“Two more,” he says, nodding like he just cracked some personal code.
Greyson claps me on the shoulder. “That looked painful.”
Ryker tosses me the ball, eyebrows lifted. “You okay, Beckett?”
I nod, but it feels mechanical. “Fine.”
He just watches me for a second. “You know, it sucks being the topic of hospital gossip…”
“Yeah,” I mutter, gripping the ball. “It does.”
“But it only happens when people care,” he adds with a half-smile.
When we’ve finished beating each other up, my brothers head out for beers on the waterfront, and I beg off. It’s seeming more and more like I need to make a stop at Ginny’s. But I gotta get that cake, and I’ve missed my window at the bakery again.
When I get home, I drop my gym bag by the front door and move toward the kitchen, pausing as I pass the back windows. I look out at the pool shimmering in the early evening light.
And there it is. That ache.
Because all I can see is her—Sadie, bright and laughing, hair piled on top of her head, drops of water glittering on her skin as she stood in my pool wearing that ridiculous yellow bikini.
The one that made her glow like sunshine.
The one she called her “last clean option.” The one that made me realize she wasn’t a little fourteen year old anymore.
She brought light into this house—and a lot of mess—but now, it feels empty.
I pull out my phone and open the Paradise Grill app, tapping in a quick order—roasted chicken salad, dressing on the side, and an iced tea. I don’t even have to think about it. Sadie thought all salad was rabbit food, but she loved to eat the crouto ns off the top.
I rub a hand over my face and sink onto the couch, propping my feet on the coffee table. The place is spotless. Everything is right where I left it. Not a disaster with a coffee mug on the counter. There isn’t a single damn sign of her.
I’d give anything for her mess again—her shoes by the door, her hairbrush on the bathroom counter. That beat-up hoodie draped over the arm of the chair because she always ran cold at night. She used to leave little trails of herself everywhere she went. And now? Gone. Like she was never here.
Except I can feel her in every room.
I grab my phone again, scrolling to the text I sent Ginny. Still unanswered.
But I don’t need a reply. Rosemary confirmed it. And Ryker did too. She’s at Ginny’s.
Cake or no cake, I can’t sit in this house another night wishing I’d done something. I stand up and head for the stairs, peeling off my sweaty shirt as I go. A hot shower, dinner, and then I’m going over there.
Maybe she won’t open the door and listen. And even if she does, there’s always the chance she won’t believe me.
But I need her to hear me. Even if it’s just to get her to come back to the tasting room. Even if that’s all she’ll give me. Because I need her around. Not just in my house, but in my life. I’m not letting her walk away without a fight.
Then my pager goes off. Shit .