24. Chapter 24
twenty-four
Sadie
Ibusied myself with coffee like my life depended on it. Measured the grounds twice. Stirred with enough force to create a whirlpool in the French press. Anything to avoid looking at him again.
But I felt him.
Still. Watching. Sitting there like temptation incarnate, water clinging to his skin in places that should be illegal.
“Sadie,” he said, voice low and rough around the edges.
I turned, mug in each hand, and instantly regretted it.
He was leaning back in the chair now, one arm slung over the back, towel riding up just enough to make my knees weak. His hair was still damp, dark curls messy and dripping onto his shoulders.
“Y-yeah?” I handed him a mug and tried to keep my eyes on his face. Definitely not his thighs. Definitely not the way one drop of water just ran down his sternum and disappeared under that towel.
He took the mug, fingers brushing mine, and held my gaze. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna think you want something.”
My brain bluescreened.
“I—! I’m not looking—I was just—making sure you didn’t spill—hot coffee!” I took a giant step back like that would somehow save me. “Don’t read into things. You’re just… you’re very present, okay?”
His lips twitched. “So are you.”
That stopped me. “What?”
“You come in here, all sweet and soft and sunshiney,” he said, voice going darker, slower. “But you’re looking at me like you wanna bite.”
My stomach flipped. My breath caught somewhere in my chest. “You’re not exactly subtle right now either, Diesel.”
He tilted his head. “Subtle wasn’t what got me into trouble.”
He set the mug down and stood, slow and deliberate, the towel shifting just enough to turn my legs to jelly. He stepped close. Close enough, I could feel the warmth rolling off his still-damp skin, the heat of him like a gravitational pull.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “Tell me to back off, Sadie. I will.”
I should’ve.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I lifted my chin and whispered, “You’re the one who pulled away first.”
His jaw flexed. The air went thick with everything we weren’t saying. Everything we were afraid to want.
One more step and our bodies would’ve touched.
His hand twitched at his side. My breath stuttered. Something inside me screamed, "Kiss him", but something stronger held me still.
“I’m trying to do this right,” he said, voice almost a growl now. “But it’s real fucking hard when you’re standing there looking like a goddamn wish.”
My lips parted, a whisper of a sound escaping, and I knew if I didn’t say something now, we’d cross a line we couldn’t uncross.
“I want to. God, I do,” I said softly, voice trembling. “But not like this. Not while we’re still figuring it out.”
He stepped back like I’d hit him—just a little.
The tension didn’t break. It just twisted into something else that was tighter, heavier, waiting.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”
But the way he looked at me?
Like he’d already tasted me in a dream?
That said not okay.
Not even close.
Diesel
“I should probably leave. So I don’t spontaneously combust.”
“Big words for such a silent guy.” She croaked it out like she was trying to make the situation lighter, but couldn’t quite stick the landing.
“Just because I save my words for when they matter, doesn’t mean I can’t say them.” I touched her chin, made her look at me. “I could recite sonnets if you wanted them.”
Her breath hitched. Those big blue eyes blinked up at me, wide and soft, and a little stunned. “Diesel…”
“I’d give you every line I’ve got,” I said, thumb brushing the curve of her jaw. “Every word I’ve been holding back.”
Her lips parted, and for a second, I thought she might close the distance between us. Thought I might finally feel what it was like to kiss someone who didn’t want to fix me, or break me, or claim me like a prize. But she just whispered, “That’s not fair.”
“I know.” My voice was hoarse. “But it’s the truth.”
We stood there, toeing the edge of something massive, something we’d both been circling like moths around a flame, afraid of getting burned but unable to stay away.
“I don’t want to be something you regret,” she said quietly.
“You wouldn’t be,” I said, without hesitation. “I’d regret not touching you. I already do.”
Her breath shivered out of her, and I could see her fighting herself—wanting to reach, to lean in, to fall.
But she stayed rooted.
Strong.
Clear-eyed.
She was doing the right thing. Which meant I had to, too.
So I stepped back. Just enough.
“I’ll go,” I said. “But Sadie?”
She looked at me.
“I’m not running. I just… I want to show up whole. For you.”
She nodded. “I’ll be here.”
I turned, made it to the door, hand on the knob—
“Diesel?”
I looked back.
She was still standing there, arms crossed like she had to hold herself together physically. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“You don’t have to recite sonnets.”
“No?”
She shook her head and gave me a wobbly smile. “Just… mean what you say. That’s enough.”