24. Kai
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Kai
Sadie sat at the worn wooden table in the back of The Foundry, a blanket draped over her shoulders like she might shatter if the air touched her wrong.
She looked better than she had in the hospital—color back in her cheeks, eyes a little brighter—but I still wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t keel over if she so much as blinked too fast.
So, I watched her. Like a damn hawk.
Samuel was on his usual bullshit, acting like her personal chef, fixing her a plate of food like she couldn’t possibly be trusted to do it herself. He set a steaming bowl of soup in front of her, followed by a thick slice of buttered bread and a side of fruit.
“You’re going to eat all of this,” he said firmly. “No arguments.”
Sadie opened her mouth, maybe to argue anyway, but he leveled her with a look that shut her down instantly. Instead, she sighed and picked up the spoon, swirling it through the broth.
“That’s what I thought,” Samuel murmured, softer now. His hand hovered near her shoulder for a moment, then gave in, settling there in a brief squeeze. “Scared the hell out of us, you know.”
She winced. “I know. I didn’t mean to?—”
“We know,” I cut in. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you did.”
Adam, always the one to break the tension, leaned against the counter, peeling an orange with methodical movements.
“I dunno, Sadie,” he drawled. “You should probably fake fainting more often. Never seen three grown men trip over themselves like that.”
Sadie huffed, breaking off a piece of bread. “I didn’t fake faint.”
“Sure, sure. But if you did, you could probably get Samuel to feed you by hand, me to carry you everywhere, and Kai to?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I muttered, though my lips twitched despite myself.
Sadie glanced at me, something knowing in her gaze. “Kai to what?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t, not with the way my chest felt too tight, too full. Instead, I reached for the tea Samuel had also placed in front of her, because of course he had, and tested the temperature against the back of my hand before nudging it toward her.
Sadie raised an eyebrow but accepted it, wrapping her fingers around the cup. “You’re all acting like I died.”
Samuel’s jaw ticked. “You collapsed, Sadie. Just… went down like your legs stopped working. What did you expect?”
She hesitated, breaking off another bite of bread, and for a second, I thought she might finally tell us how she was feeling about all of this.
But instead, she swallowed and dropped her gaze. “I’m okay now.”
The lie hung in the air like smoke—thin, choking, impossible to ignore.
Her hand drifted briefly to her stomach, like she was trying to remind herself that everything was still fine. That her body wasn’t betraying her again.
No one believed her. Especially not herself.
Adam let out a slow breath and dropped the last orange slice onto her plate.
“Eat that too,” he said, all teasing gone from his voice. “Gotta keep your strength up.”
Sadie gave him a dry look. “You gonna peel my grapes next?”
“If you ask real nice,” he shot back, grinning.
She huffed but didn’t argue, popping the orange into her mouth.
I watched the way her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the spoon again, and before I could stop myself, I reached across the table and covered her hand with mine.
Sadie froze, her eyes flicking up to mine.
“You scared us,” I told her, my voice coming out rough. “Me.”
Her lips parted, a flurry of emotions flickering across her face. Then, slowly, she turned her palm upward beneath mine, curling her fingers around my hand.
Just for a moment. Just long enough for my heart to trip over itself.
Then she pulled away, cleared her throat, and picked up the spoon.
Samuel exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. Adam tossed a glance between all of us, lips pressing together.
No one said anything else. But I knew we’d all felt it.
Something shifting.
Something settling into place.
Later, as the night stretched on and The Foundry quieted, Sadie curled up on the worn leather couch in the back, her head resting against the armrest, eyes fluttering shut.
Samuel had draped another blanket over her before he left, mumbling something about finishing up inventory, and Adam had disappeared outside to lock up, leaving just me.
I should have gone too. Given her space.
But I couldn’t.
Instead, I sat on the floor beside her, leaning against the couch, watching the way her breathing evened out, the slight furrow in her brow smoothing as sleep pulled her under.
Even exhausted, she still looked like she was fighting something.
Without thinking, I reached out and brushed her hair back, my fingers skimming over her temple as I tucked a loose strand behind her ear. The intimacy of it settled me in a way I wasn’t expecting.
I exhaled, my fingers lingering just a second longer.
“You know,” I murmured, barely above a whisper, “the first time I saw you, I couldn’t stop staring.”
Sadie didn’t stir, but I kept my voice low anyway, like some part of me worried waking her would break whatever spell had settled over us.
“You were fourteen,” I said, “and pissed off at the world. I think you’d just threatened some sophomore for knocking your books out of your hands in the hallway. And I just… I remember thinking, ‘She’s gonna be trouble.’”
I swallowed, my fingers tracing lightly along the edge of the blanket she’d pulled up to her chin.
“I didn’t know then how strong you were. I didn’t know what it must have been like to lose them like that. To lose everything and have to start over in a town full of strangers.”
My throat tightened, but I kept going, even though she was already deep in sleep, even though she’d never hear a word of it.
“All I knew was that you were small and furious and beautiful in a way I couldn’t put words to. And even though you barely looked at me that first day, even though you didn’t say a single word to me until a week later, I was already gone for you.”
I let the silence settle after that, let my fingers smooth gently over the blanket one last time before I let go.
For a second, I thought she might have heard me, that maybe she was only pretending to sleep. But she didn’t stir, didn’t react, just breathed deep and slow, safe and warm and here.
And that was enough.
I stayed a little longer, just watching her. The weight of the moment pressed into me, but it didn’t feel suffocating. It felt… grounding.
The quiet didn’t last long.
Footsteps approached, quiet and careful, and then Samuel and Adam were settling into the chairs across from me, their eyes flicking from me to Sadie and back again. None of us spoke at first, but we all knew why we were here.
Samuel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We need to talk.”
Adam stretched his long legs out in front of him, resting his hands behind his head. “About the baby.”
I clenched my jaw, the words hitting me like a slow burn. It wasn’t like we hadn’t all been thinking about it, dancing around the topic all night, but saying it out loud made it real. And real was terrifying.
Samuel leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes sharp. “Whatever happens, whatever she decides… we’re in this. All of us.”
Adam let out a slow breath. “Yeah. But the question is, what does she want? She hasn’t said much, but…” He hesitated. “She's mentioned she might not stick around.”
I didn’t say anything, but I remembered the way she’d stared out the window earlier, her arms wrapped tight around herself like she was trying to hold the world in. Like she was already halfway gone in her head.
She hadn’t said the words, but the fear was there. And it wasn’t just about leaving.
It was about what might happen if she stayed.
Samuel’s expression darkened. “That was before she knew about this.” He glanced toward her sleeping form. “She’s got people now. A reason to stay.”
I ran a hand down my face. “But is that enough? We can’t make her stay just because of—” I gestured vaguely, unable to say it again.
“No,” Adam agreed. “We can’t make her do anything.” His voice softened. “But we can show her that this doesn’t have to be something she handles on her own.”
Samuel exhaled, rubbing at his jaw. “She deserves that.”
I swallowed against the tightness in my throat.
He was right. We all knew it.
My gaze drifted back to Sadie, curled up under the blanket, so small yet carrying something so much bigger than any of us had expected.
For the first time, it hit me—not just what we were stepping into, but what it meant.
Loving her wasn’t about claiming her. It wasn’t about which one of us she chose or whether she belonged to any of us at all.
It was about making sure she had every ounce of the love and support she deserved.
I’d spent so long worrying that sharing her meant losing her, like if I wasn’t the only one, I’d be nothing. But that wasn’t the truth.
The truth was that Sadie had enough love to fill every crack in her heart. Enough to heal what had been broken.
And if that meant sharing her, if it meant all of us standing beside her, giving her something steady to hold on to…
Then that was what we’d do.
Samuel sat forward, his jaw tight, hands clasped together like he was physically holding himself back.
“We need to be honest with ourselves,” he said. “This isn’t just about the baby. It never was.”
Adam exhaled hard through his nose, running a hand down his face.
“Yeah,” he muttered, dropping his head back against the chair. “Yeah, I fucking know.”
And I did too.
This wasn’t some passing thing. It wasn’t some obligation we were taking on because it was the right thing to do. This was deeper. More raw.
It had been building, burning between us for a long damn time.
Samuel’s knuckles were white as he looked at her, like he was holding himself together through sheer force of will.
“She’s it,” he said finally, the words clipped but heavy, like he was admitting something he’d been keeping locked up for too long. “You both know it.”
Adam let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. He dragged a hand through his damp hair, eyes dark, unreadable. “I knew the second she walked into town and made me forget how to breathe.”
I clenched my jaw, my chest feeling too tight, my pulse hammering too hard. “She scares the shit out of me,” I confessed. “Not because of the baby. Not because of any of this.” I looked at them, at the only two other men who could possibly understand. “Because I don’t know what I’d do if she left.”
Samuel’s nostrils flared, his lips parting like he wanted to argue, like he wanted to say she wouldn’t. But he didn’t. Because he knew.
Sadie had always been a runner.
She’d left me once before. I wasn’t sure I could go through any of that again.
Adam’s voice was quieter this time, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud. “What if she does?”
The words landed like a gut punch, but I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Then we don’t let her.”
Samuel’s head snapped up, fire flickering in his eyes. “You think we should make the choice for her?”
“No.” I shook my head, exhaling slowly. “But we don’t let her believe that leaving is her only option. That she has to do this alone. That she’s alone, period.”
Adam let out a low breath, leaning back in his chair. “That means telling her how we feel.”
Samuel made a rough sound in his throat, but he didn’t argue.
The thought of it made my stomach twist. Not because I didn’t want to tell her, but because I didn’t know if she was ready to hear it.
I looked back at her, curled up beneath the blanket, her hair spilling across the pillow, her lips slightly parted in sleep.
The woman who had somehow carved herself into every part of me without even trying.
Samuel’s voice was quiet, almost broken. “What if she doesn’t want this?”
None of us answered right away.
Because that? That was the one thing none of us wanted to say.
But then Adam’s voice came, steady, sure. “Then we love her anyway. When the time is right.”
And just like that, the truth settled in.
It didn’t matter if she ran. It didn’t matter if she was scared. It didn’t even matter if she didn’t choose any of us.
Because this wasn’t about possession.
It was about love.
And we weren’t going anywhere.