33. Sadie
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Sadie
The Foundry smelled like damp wood, lemon-scented cleaner, and the faintest hint of whiskey. It was a strange combination, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
Not after the absolute disaster the place had been this morning.
We’d done it.
Hours of mopping, hauling, drying, and cursing later, the floors were no longer slick with water, the back storage room was at least somewhat salvageable, and the jukebox—against all odds—still worked.
Adam had crowed in triumph when the thing sputtered back to life, the opening chords of some old rock song crackling through the speakers like it was a goddamn miracle.
Maybe it was.
Maybe this whole day had been.
Now, the four of us sat around one of the booths, half-eaten burgers and a shared basket of fries spread out between us, steaming mugs of tea in hand.
Adam had insisted we needed something stronger, but even he caved when Samuel slid a cup in front of him with a pointed look.
“Dehydration,” he’d said simply before taking a long sip of his own drink.
I curled my hands around my mug, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. My body ached from the work, but in a good way.
A satisfying way. I was tired, but I felt lighter.
More than that… I felt settled.
That was brand new to me.
I glanced around the table, at the three men who had somehow become my home again.
Samuel, methodically stirring his tea like he was measuring every motion. Kai, leaning back against the booth, watching me with a small, knowing smile. And Adam, already halfway through his cup, wincing at the heat but not slowing down.
I hadn’t expected to find this again. This belonging. And I sure as hell hadn’t expected to want to stay.
But I did.
I let the moment stretch, let myself breathe in the safety of it, the quiet hum of voices, and the clink of mugs against wood.
And then my phone buzzed. I almost ignored it, but something, some old instinct, made me glance down.
I wished I hadn’t.
Owain Bond.
His name glowed on the screen, slicing through the warmth like a cold knife.
I went still.
My fingers clenched around my phone, breath catching in my throat as the past crashed down on me like a wave.
“S?” Kai’s voice was gentle, but I barely heard him.
I swallowed hard, pulse thrumming in my ears.
My thumb hovered over the notification.
My body screamed at me to toss the phone across the damn room, pretend I hadn’t seen it.
But I wasn’t that girl anymore. I wasn’t running. Not from Medford. Not from myself. And not from him.
So I took a slow breath and opened the message.
Sadie. We need to talk.
The second I saw those words, the memories came rushing in, fast and sharp, like a wound I thought had healed suddenly tearing open.
I could still picture the first time I met him, when he hired me to work in Belle and Rye—a job that was a dream come true for me.
The man had charm down to a science. That easy, confident smile. That sharp gaze that made me feel like I was the only person in the room when he looked at me.
At first, it had felt like a dream.
Late nights, stolen moments in his office. The rush of his hand at the small of my back as he led me through the restaurant… our little secret.
The whispered promises, the heady thrill of being wanted by a man like him.
I had fallen. Hard.
And then, he’d changed.
The compliments had turned into critiques. Subtle, at first. A small correction here, a disappointed sigh there. Then, they got sharper.
Why can’t you get this right, Sadie?
You used to be better at this.
Do you know how many people would kill for this job?
But it wasn’t just at work.
The warmth in his eyes turned calculating.
The texts became cold.
He’d started canceling plans. Making excuses.
The Owain who had made me feel like I was the center of his world started treating me like I was a problem.
And the worst part?
I’d let him.
I had made myself smaller.
I’d tried harder. Stayed later. Took every scrap of attention he tossed my way and told myself it was enough. That it was just stress, that he’d come back to me when things settled.
But they never did.
And the more he pulled away, the more I unraveled.
I started making mistakes. Forgot orders. Spilled drinks. Showed up late after nights spent crying in my tiny apartment, wondering what I had done wrong.
Then I found out the truth.
It hadn’t been stress.
It hadn’t been the restaurant.
It hadn’t even been me.
Owain Bond was married.
And not just married—happily, publicly, perfectly married, if the glossy magazine spreads of him and his elegant, beautiful wife were anything to go by.
I had stumbled upon the truth by accident.
A headline flashed across my screen while I sat on the subway, bleary-eyed and exhausted after another closing shift.
Owain Bond and Socialite Wife Celebrate Ten Years of Marriage in Lavish Gala.
Ten years.
Longer than I had even known him. I had stared at the screen, the world tilting sideways, my stomach lurching.
It didn’t make sense.
He had never hidden me exactly. Staff had known, or at least suspected, though no one had dared to say it outright.
He had taken me to expensive dinners, tucked me against his side as we slipped into town cars, kissed me breathless in his office like he owned me.
And the whole time, I had just been some dirty little secret.
I had confronted him that night. I’d stormed into his office, my hands shaking, the headline still burning in my mind.
“Tell me it’s not true.” My voice had been hoarse.
He had barely looked up from his desk. “What, exactly?”
I'd shoved my phone toward him, the article open, my breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. His eyes flicked to the screen, then back to me.
Unbothered. Unimpressed.
“I was going to tell you.”
My stomach had turned. “When?”
He had sighed, leaning back in his chair, his expression the picture of exasperation. Like I was an inconvenience.
“You’re being dramatic, Sadie. It was never serious.”
Not serious.
My knees had gone weak.
I had loved him.
I had ruined myself over him.
And to him, I was nothing more than a passing indulgence. A mistake.
The rest had been a blur.
Yelling. Crying.
Him standing, stepping close, his voice dropping low and dangerous.
“You should really think carefully about what you say next,” he’d murmured, brushing his fingers against my wrist. “You don’t want to do something you’ll regret.”
A threat.
One I hadn’t fully understood until I’d shown up to work the next day, only to find my name scrubbed from the schedule.
My employee access revoked.
My entire career at Belle and Rye erased overnight.
I had tried to fight it. Tried to push back. But Owain Bond was powerful. Respected. Untouchable. And I was nothing.
No one else in the industry would touch me after that.
Not when Owain had made it clear that I wasn’t worth hiring.
My references? Useless. My reputation? Ruined.
I had lasted another month in the city, burning through the last of my savings, skipping meals to pay rent, staring at my phone and willing it to ring with a job offer that never came.
And then I had packed my bags and fled back to Medford.
Back to the one place I swore I’d never return to.
And now, now, months later, here he was.
Back in my inbox like a bad dream.
Sadie. We need to talk.
I stared at the screen, my whole body tight, my breath shallow.
My hands were shaking. My whole damn body was.
“S?” Kai’s voice was soft, careful. I could feel them watching me.
Three sets of eyes filled with concern.
My stomach twisted tighter. I needed to get out of here before they started asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
“I…” I cleared it, forcing a weak smile. “I think I…”
I pressed a hand to my stomach as nausea hit me hard and sudden.
Samuel’s expression sharpened in an instant. “Sadie, you okay?”
“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Adam added, his eyes scanning my face with concern.
“I don’t feel great,” I admitted, trying to laugh it off. “Maybe just… overdid it today.”
Kai leaned forward slightly, brows knit. “Is it the baby?”
I blinked.
“No—no, I don’t think so,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I mean, I don’t know, but… I just need to lie down for a bit. That’s all.” I waved a hand.
“Go crash in my bed for a bit,” Kai said.
I hesitated.
“Go.” That was the thing about Kai—he always knew when to push and when to give me space.
Right now, he was letting me run.
But I had no doubt he’d come find me later.
I nodded, murmured a quick thanks, and slipped away from the table before any of them could say anything else.
The stairs creaked beneath my feet as I climbed, my pulse hammering in my ears.
The second I stepped into Kai’s bedroom, I let out a shaky breath and collapsed onto the bed. I rolled onto my side, staring at the phone still clutched in my hand.
I should block him. Delete the message. Erase his number for good this time.
And yet, my thumb hovered over the screen.
I wanted to tell him to go to hell. To tell him he didn’t own me anymore.
But I also wanted to know what he wanted to talk about.
My hands curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. I had come so far. Built something new. I had people here who cared about me, who wanted me for more than just what I could give them.
Owain didn’t get to take that from me.
So why did it still feel like he could?
I let out a slow breath and flipped the phone face down on the pillow beside me.
Maybe if I just closed my eyes for a little while, I’d wake up and this would all feel less like the beginning of a nightmare.
The nightmare started the way it always did.
Darkness. The sound of tires skidding. My own heartbeat slamming against my ribs.
Then, impact.
Metal screaming. Shattering glass. My body thrown forward, the seatbelt biting into my skin. The smell of burning rubber and blood filled my nose, thick and suffocating.
But then it changed. It was no longer the memory of my past, the accident that had stolen my family and shattered my childhood.
It was them.
Samuel. Adam. Kai.
Their truck spun out of control, headlights flashing in the rain, their voices calling my name—desperate, afraid—before metal twisted and crumpled around them.
I screamed, but no sound came out. I tried to move, to run to them, but my feet were stuck, cemented to the pavement as I watched the truck flip… once, twice…
Silence.
I gasped, the world tilting, rain soaking through my clothes as I finally managed to move, stumbling toward the wreckage.
Steam hissed from the hood, the smell of gasoline thick in the air. My hands shook as I reached for the door handle, my fingers slipping against the twisted metal.
“Please,” I choked out, my voice raw. “Please wake up.”
A groan.
Adam.
His head lolled to the side, blood streaking his temple. His lashes fluttered, barely conscious.
“Sadie…”
The way he said my name, so soft, so broken, sent a fresh wave of terror crashing over me.
Kai wasn’t moving.
No. No, no, no.
“Kai!” My hands found his arm, his face. His skin was too cold, his breaths too shallow. His lips were parted, but no words came.
And Samuel…
Samuel wasn’t breathing.
I let out a strangled sob, shaking him, begging, pleading, my hands pressing against his chest, slick with blood. His dark eyes were closed, his strong body too still, too quiet.
“No! No, you can’t…” My throat burned. “Samuel, please! Wake up!”
Nothing.
Something inside me cracked, the kind of break that never healed. A wretched, keening noise tore from my chest as I rocked forward, pressing my forehead against his, feeling the warmth already fading from his skin.
“Don’t leave me,” I whispered. “Not you. Not any of you. Please...”
And then, the fire started.
Flames licked at the edges of the wreck, orange and furious, devouring everything in its path. I tried to pull them out, tried to drag them free, but the smoke burned my eyes, my lungs, turning my screams into ragged gasps.
One by one, they slipped away from me.
And I could do nothing but watch.
A final explosion rocked the night, heat engulfing my skin…
Then suddenly, the flames parted.
A car idled in the middle of the road, its headlights cutting through the smoke—too bright, too sharp. The driver’s side door swung open.
And he stepped out.
Owain.
He was pristine. Not a drop of rain on him, not a trace of ash. He straightened the cuffs of his suit, expression cool, detached, as if he were surveying nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
“This is what happens,” he mused, tilting his head, “when you try to play house with men who aren’t in your league.”
My blood turned to ice.
“You did this.”
He tsked, stepping closer, his polished shoes untouched by the wreckage.
“No, sweetheart. You did.” He smirked. “Always making a mess of things, aren’t you?”
I shook my head, my body trembling. “No?—”
“You ruin everything you touch,” he continued, voice silk over steel. “You think they’re different? That they won’t figure it out? That they won’t leave you like everyone else?”
My breath hitched.
His smirk widened.
“Poor, desperate, Sadie. Always chasing after things she can’t have.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “And you really thought they’d love you? Just like you thought, I would love you…”
The fire roared higher, swallowing the truck whole.
And I jolted awake.
My body was drenched in sweat, my hands clenched so tight my nails had left crescent-shaped marks in my palms. My breath came in panicked, shallow bursts, my heart slamming against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
I wasn’t in the wreckage. I wasn’t on the road.
I was in Kai’s bed.
Safe. Alive.
But I had lost them.
I had lost them, and I had felt every aching second of it.
A sob clawed its way up my throat, but I swallowed it down, shaking, staring into the darkness of the room, careful not to wake up Kai.
But inside me, the wreckage still burned.