Chapter 43
forty-three
Colson
I don’t know how the night flipped so fast.
One minute it was string lights, lake air and Sadie smiling across the table like she’d finally exhaled. The next thing is this terrible sound creeping from the main restaurant area, ruining the vibes.
I didn't recognize the guy at first. I knew he didn’t belong here.
He’s standing too close to the patio entrance, half past Birdie like he pushed his way into the moment. His eyes are locked on Sadie in a way that makes my stomach drop. Possessive. Familiar. Like he thinks he still has a right.
Sadie goes still. Not frozen exactly—more like bracing.
Then it clicks. This has to be him. Nick.
I take him in quickly. He looks strung out. Not falling-over drunk, but wired and loose around the edges. Jaw tight. Movements jerky. Birdie’s tone tells me everything I need to know. This wasn’t a friendly pop-in.
He keeps trying to step closer, angling around Birdie, eyes never leaving Sadie.
“Hey,” I say, stepping in front of her without thinking. Calm voice. “You need to take a step back.”
He scoffs like he’s offended. “I just want to talk to her.”
Birdie snaps, “You don’t. And you’re not.”
I glance back at Sadie for half a second, checking in. Her hand grips the edge of the table, knuckles white. That’s enough for me.
“Birdie,” I say quietly but firmly, “go inside.”
She hesitates, clearly torn, then nods. “I’m calling this in,” she mutters, pointing at Nick. “You don’t go anywhere.”
Nick bristles the second she leaves. “Who the fuck are you?” he snaps at me.
I keep my voice even. “I’m not telling you anything. I’m asking you to lower your voice and give her space.”
He laughs, sharp and humorless. “Yeah, okay.”
Sadie shifts behind me, and I feel it—her fear, her anger, the way this guy is dragging her somewhere she didn’t choose to go tonight.
Nick tries to move again. I block him easily, not touching him, just existing in the way that makes it clear he’s not getting past me.
“That’s enough,” I insist. “You’ve made your point. It’s over.”
He opens his mouth like he’s going to argue. Like he’s going to push.
I don’t wait. I turn slightly, reaching back for Sadie’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
She doesn’t question it. Just stands and grabs her bag, fingers threading through mine like she’s been waiting for permission to go.
We move fast past Nick.
Inside the restaurant, heads turn. Chairs scrape. The air is thick with tension. I keep my body angled so Nick can’t get close, guiding Sadie through the narrow aisle toward the door in front of us.
Birdie’s voice rings out, loud and furious. “Nick! Give me your keys!”
There’s shouting. Someone swears. I don’t look back.
The only thing that matters is getting Sadie out of there—away from him, away from the noise, back to where she can breathe.
As the door swings open and the night air hits us again, I tighten my grip on her hand.
I hear him before I see him. Nick’s voice cuts through the night, loud and wild, carrying way farther than it should. Tourists slow on the sidewalk. A couple near the street actually stops.
“What the hell are you doing?” he yells. “Sadie—seriously?”
I keep us moving, my hand firm around hers, my body angled so I’m between them. My heart is pounding now, not from fear—anger. Controlled, but sharp.
Then he says my name.
“Nah—what the hell are you doing with NBA loser Colson Burke?” he shouts. “What is he even doing here?”
That’s when I stop. Not because of the insult. Because Sadie’s grip tightens, like the words landed somewhere that hurts.
Nick staggers closer, frantic energy pouring off him. Too loud. He smells like alcohol when the wind shifts. “You really just replace me with this?” he keeps going. “You think this is better?”
Birdie bursts out of the restaurant behind him, keys in her hand, voice already raised. “Nick! Stop it! You’re done. Right now.” One of the bartenders comes outside with her, following close behind.
I turn fully toward him, planting my feet. “Hey,” I say, calm but unmovable. “Enough.”
He jabs a finger in my direction. “You don’t get to tell me—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I cut in. “You’re drunk. You’re embarrassing yourself. Go home. Sleep it off.”
People are definitely watching now. A group across the street has gone quiet. Someone pulls out a phone.
Nick laughs, unhinged. “You think you’re tough because you’re Colson Burke? All washed up?” And then he shoves me.
It’s nothing but words. Intentional. When I don’t react, he does it again.
Everything in me wants to react. Wants to end it. My fists clench on instinct. But I don’t.
I take one step back, putting even more space between him and Sadie. “Do not touch me again,” I say, low and clear.
He keeps yelling, like volume equals control. “Colson! You hear me? You think you’re something?”
I don’t rise to it. I don’t give him what he wants.
Instead, I glance back at Sadie and murmur, “We’re going. Now.”
She nods immediately.
I guide her away, my body blocking his line of sight, my hand steady even though my pulse is hammering. Behind us, Birdie keeps shouting—calling him out, telling him to stop.
Nick’s voice follows us down the sidewalk, chaotic and cracking, echoing off the buildings. When there’s a few seconds of silence and I think we’ve finally lost this asshole, Sadie’s name rips through the night.
Not shouted—torn out of him.
It’s loud and guttural and full of something ugly, something raw enough it makes me flinch before I can stop it. Heads turn again. A couple tourists actually freeze mid-step. I feel Sadie tense next to me, like that sound reached straight into her chest.
Something in me hardens. I stop walking and turn back around.
Nick is still yelling, backing toward us, arms wide like the whole street owes him attention. Rage is rolling off him now, unchecked. This isn’t confusion or heartbreak—it’s entitlement.
I step toward him. Not fast or threatening. Controlled.
He’s still spiraling. “You hear me? You think you—”
When I’m right in front of him, I put my chest to his. “Hey.” My voice cuts through it and it’s raw like gravel.
He falters.
I take another step forward and he has to step back. “I’m going to tell you this one more time.”
The street goes quiet enough that I know people are listening.
“You do not get to talk to her like that,” I say evenly. “You don’t get access to her. You don’t get any of her.”
He scoffs, still retreating. “You don’t know anything about us.”
“I know enough,” I snap. “Lose her number. Forget about this place. Anyone who shows up drunk and acting like this doesn’t deserve a second of her time.”
He takes another step back and his heel catches the curb. He goes down hard, landing on his ass with a startled grunt, and some of the tourists gasp.
I take another small step until I’m standing over him.
“This is where it ends,” I say quietly. “Leave her alone. Or I will fucking end you, okay?”
For a beat, all I hear is his breathing. Then I turn away and I don't look back.
I go straight to Sadie. She’s shaking. Not visibly crying, just… rattled. I pull her into me immediately, one arm around her shoulders, the other at her back, holding her close enough that she can feel how solid I am.
“You’re okay,” I murmur, just for her. “I’ve got you.”
She nods against my chest, fingers gripping my shirt like she needs something real to hold onto. A few seconds later, police lights reflect off the lake.