Chapter 10 #2
‘Easy!’ I swing her down to solid ground before my fear can play out.
‘Breakfast is served,’ Sadie says, coming up behind us with a tray piled high, and for the umpteenth time this morning, I lose my mind.
The gym gear she’s wearing is brutal… like tight, revealing, seven-year-memory-triggering brutal.
And I thought PJ-clad Sadie was bad enough. But Lycra? Fuck me, Lycra!
It should be banned in close quarters. Banned altogether, without question.
Maybe I need to enforce a dress code…
No flimsy PJs.
No short shorts.
No Lycra.
Bra MANDATORY.
Though not this bra.
This one squeezes her breasts together just right, and the only thing I can picture is pushing myself between them while she— Nope! I flee for the coffee before my cock fully wakes up.
‘I didn’t realise cooking a mammoth breakfast required marathon clothing?’ I say, returning a few sanitising moments later.
She blushes up at me. ‘Yeah, sorry about that.’
Hell, why is she the one apologising when you’re the one perving?!
‘I wasn’t complaining.’
Fuck, what are you saying?!
‘I mean, it’s fine, you wear what you want to wear, I was just?—’
You were what? Ogling her? Freaking out? Back-pedalling?
She’s in the middle of loading up Lottie’s plate but she stops, glances at me, blue eyes dancing, brows raised.
‘I’m just going to get the syrup,’ I say, doing an about-turn.
‘We already have the?—’
‘You can never have enough!’ I call back. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Unloading in the shower was supposed to help, but damn Jack’s cocked and ready to blow.
I yank open the freezer and stand in its chilling draught. It’s about as effective as the shower, but at least I’m not giving my houseguests a sodding eyeful. Literally.
‘Funny place to keep the syrup…’
Her sudden proximity radiates down my back – warm, inviting… her tease more flirtatious purr than platonic fun.
You wish!
‘Just grabbing ice for the juice.’
And my blue fucking balls!
She murmurs something under her breath that sounds an awful lot like, ‘Good luck with that.’
‘What’s that?’
I glance over but she’s already heading back to the table, ponytail swinging, her Lycra-sculpted cheeks giving me another injection that I unequivocally do not need.
My freezer joins the saint on my shoulder, pinging at me in protest.
Beep beep beep ? —
You beep off!
* * *
Sadie
I can’t eat.
I push pancakes and strawberries around my plate while Lottie and Theo dive in. Though I get the impression Theo’s eating more to keep his mouth busy than from hunger, hangover, or trying to please me.
Because I might misread his eyes, his face, even his words sometimes, but there’s no mistaking what his lounge pants revealed just before he fled.
And to the freezer of all places.
The memory sends the butterflies in my stomach into overdrive. There’s no way I can eat like this.
I pick up my coffee instead, eyeing him over the rim as I take a slow sip. He’s concentrating very hard on his plate…
‘I see I’ve got two pancake monsters in the house,’ I murmur, daring him to look at me and getting a tiny thrill when he does.
‘They’re good,’ he says around a mouthful, eyes wide, voice endearingly muffled. ‘ Real good.’
He swallows – and then his eyes betray him, flicking to my chest in the swiftest glance known to man.
Hell, if I’d known gym gear would tip him over the edge, I’d have worn it sooner.
‘I’m glad you approve.’
I set my coffee down and lean over to help Lottie spear another piece of pancake – purely for her benefit, of course. And I feel his gaze. The way it lingers. The way his hands tighten around his cutlery.
‘I’m sorry about the Lycra at the table,’ I tease, arching a brow as the devil in me calls him out. ‘I was hoping to squeeze in a run on your treadmill before this one woke up, but she had other ideas, waking up at the crack of dawn…’
‘The treadmill – huh?’
Now who sounds like a chipmunk…? A smile tugs at my lips.
‘Still got the running bug then?’
‘I wish. There hasn’t been much…’
My eyes flick to Lottie, but my mind flashes to Danny. His face, his sneer: Look at you. Desperate for attention. Parading it about.
And then Theo. The way he looked at me. The way he’s still looking.
Maybe Danny had a point.
The thought knocks the air out of me. Not because of Theo’s reaction – no. Because of mine. My behaviour. God. I’m doing exactly what Danny always accused me of.
Flaunting it.
Asking for it.
My stomach twists as my face drains cold.
Slut.
The word slaps me hard – cruel, familiar.
Only his time… it’s my voice saying it.
‘Much what?’
Theo’s quiet prompt tugs me back.
I blink. Shake my head as I try to shake loose the shame.
‘Opportunity,’ I say, my tongue too dry.
I reach for my iced juice and instantly regret it as the cubes jingle like a telltale bell.
His eyes narrow, tracking the sound. Tracking me. He leans back in his chair. ‘You didn’t fancy running with a buggy?’
‘Have you seen how kids get jiggled six ways to Sunday in those things?’
He smiles, but it’s small. Too small.
‘A human rattle, no doubt.’
And I think that’s it – that I’ve dodged the deeper question – when he adds, quieter now, ‘He didn’t like it, though. Did he?’
My throat tightens under the weight of his gaze. I can’t lie. Not to him. What would be the point? He already knows enough – knows the most, even.
‘No,’ I admit. ‘He thought my videos were attention-seeking, so you can imagine how he felt about me jogging in public. All that “showing off” in running gear…’
His hand curls into a fist beside his plate. His jaw tics, tension radiating off him like heat.
‘Forget the treadmill,’ he growls, voice a dark, commanding burr. ‘Get outside and run, Sadie.’
I huff out a laugh. ‘I don’t think weaving through homicidal cyclists and double-decker buses with a buggy qualifies as cardio. It’s more like an extreme sport.’
‘I don’t mean with Lottie.’ He softens his tone, but his eyes remain tight. ‘I mean on your own. When’s the last time you did something just for you?’
I stare at him. Blank. Like the concept doesn’t compute.
He tilts his head, eyes flicking to my plate. ‘You’ve barely touched your breakfast. Why not go now? You might come back with an appetite.’
I haven’t had much of an appetite in longer than I care to admit – unless you count the one I have for him. The thought alone makes my pulse skip. Dangerous. Stupid. Still true.
‘But… what about Lottie?’
‘What about her?’ His voice is calm but firm. ‘I’ll watch her.’
I blink at him, thrown by the ease of it – like it’s no big deal. Like I matter enough to be given this. A breather. A minute to myself.
‘What about your work?’
‘Work can wait.’
I shake my head. ‘Theo… I’ve disrupted your life enough. I’m not messing with your schedule, too.’
‘You haven’t messed with anything.’ His gaze doesn’t waver. ‘And even if you had, it’s my schedule. I’ll tear it up if I want to. And right now, I want you to go outside. Feel the sun on your face, the wind in your hair, and let your brain switch off.’
I swallow.
‘Go, Sadie. Run until the only thing you hear is your own heartbeat. Think about nothing but you. Just this once.’
The urge to cry hits so hard, it’s embarrassing.
‘But if you’re worried, I can have Axel send one of his team over, a woman to accompany you if?—’
‘No. No, you’re right. I should do this. I want to. I just…’ I wet my lips. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m positive.’
I turn to Lottie. ‘What do you think, sweetheart? Want to play with Uncle Theo while I go for a quick run?’
She lights up like a firecracker. ‘Can we hunt more treasure?’
Theo grins. ‘Sure can. I was thinking…’ his gaze drifts to the living area ‘…my sofa would actually make a great pirate ship.’
She spins on her knees to peek over the back of her chair. ‘Wow, Mummy, look! Our pirate ship’s cool!’
Her joy totally undoes me.
And now I really can’t say no.
She’s happy. She’s safe. She’s practically vibrating with excitement to turn Theo’s apartment into the Black Pearl, and here I am hovering like an anxious seagull with – with abandonment issues.
Check that, Tay.
But then, I’m not used to this. To someone offering me a break without strings. To the idea that I can just go. For no other reason than it might make me feel good.
Danny would’ve called it selfish.
Hell, I call it selfish.
But is it? Is it really?
‘Okay then.’ I rise slowly. ‘You be good for Uncle Theo, kiddo.’
I kiss her soft hair. She smells of strawberries and sunshine and I want to cling to it. Even though I need this. A taste of how it used it to be. How it could be again.
‘There’s just one condition,’ Theo says, and I glance at him. ‘You don’t come back until you ache for all the right reasons, you hear?’
My eyebrows shoot up. The right reasons? I almost choke as I nod and walk. Because the only ache I’ve got right now is the one I get whenever a certain look comes over him, or he does things like rearrange his day just for me.
‘I’m already halfway there,’ I mutter under my breath, grabbing my phone and resisting the urge to kiss him goodbye too. ‘Thank you.’
I’m still buzzing when I step into the elevator, nerves and anticipation fizzing through me like static. It’s been years since I had a proper run – longer since I did it outside – but suddenly, I’m abuzz with the kind of energy that’s got absolutely nothing to do with the impending cardio.
Then I hear his voice carry down the hall: ‘Jake, hey, I’m going to need you to reschedule my ten o’clock. Yeah, the one with the board… Never mind why, just do it. Send them some of those fancy pastries from Samuel’s and throw in the?—’
I don’t catch the rest as the doors slide closed. But the implication is loud and clear. He’s not just rescheduling his day. He’s rescheduling an actual freaking board meeting. Just for me.
I feel like I’ve stumbled into someone else’s life, floating somewhere between awe and disbelief. The quiet hum of the lift cocoons me, my own private bubble, and for a second, I just stand there. Still.
This is the first time I’ve been in this space alone. No buggy, no Mary Poppins bag, no list of things to remember. No one to smile for, to pretend for, it’s just me. For me.
It takes a moment to remember the security code. Another to pick the right floor to the street. I catch my reflection in the mirrored panel. Bright eyes. Flushed cheeks. Aside from the lack of sweat, I already look like I’ve been for a run.
The elevator gives a subtle jolt, the doors gliding open on the foyer. It’s all polished glass and understated elegance, a bustling hive of activity too that I somehow stride right through.
‘Good morning, Miss Stone,’ the porter says with a nod, holding open the door.
‘It really is, isn’t it, Charles?’ I reply, surprised by how much I mean it; my shoulders feel so light, my chest so open…
I step out into the street and for the first time in forever, I don’t flinch at the world coming at me. The rush of traffic, the city noise, the commuters spilling out of coffee shops and apartment buildings. I move with it.
I don’t know if it’s the lasting effect of yesterday’s park visit, or the growing distance from Danny, or the high of Theo wanting what’s best for me, wanting me even – but I’m walking on air.
No, scratch that.
I’m running on it.
I dodge between pedestrians, my trainers pounding the pavement, my heart kicking like it’s finally remembered what it’s for.
I let out a breathless laugh and a man glances up, nearly upending his fancy coffee down his equally fancy suit.
I hit him with an apologetic grin and keep on going because in that moment, I realise:
I’m not scared.
I’m not hiding.
I’m not someone else’s problem.
I’m free.