Chapter 24 Axel
Axel
Ican't sleep.
Sadie's face when she saw that envelope in my hand. The betrayal in her eyes. The way she backed away from me like I was no different from Elliot. The sound of her voice breaking when she said, "I trusted you."
I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling I can't actually see in the darkness. What the hell was I thinking? That I could protect her by hiding the truth? That I knew better than she did what she needed?
The memory of Poppy's face flashes in my mind, those big eyes, that toothless smile when she reaches for me.
So innocent. So completely dependent on the adults around her to keep her safe.
And here I was, keeping information from the one person who has dedicated her entire life to protecting that little girl.
"You're an idiot, Slade," I mutter into the darkness.
I throw off the covers and sit up, running my hands through my hair. Sleep isn't happening tonight. I grab my phone and head downstairs, not bothering with lights. The darkness fits my mood.
I sink onto the couch, the leather cold against my bare skin. My phone screen illuminates my face as I pull up Sadie's contact information. My thumb hovers over the call button. It's the middle of the night, she'd never answer. And what would I even say? Sorry doesn't begin to cover it.
The truth hits me with sudden, painful clarity: by hiding that photo from Sadie, I did exactly what Elliot has been doing to her for years. I took away her power to make her own decisions. I decided what information she was entitled to have about her own life, her own child.
No different from Elliot controlling her money, her choices, her freedom.
"Jesus," I whisper, the realization like a physical blow. No wonder she looked at me with such disgust, such fear. In trying to protect her, I became the very thing she was running from.
I think about Poppy again, about the fierce protectiveness I feel toward a child who isn't even mine.
That's what confuses me most. I've never felt this way before, this primal need to shield someone so small and vulnerable.
It's like some dormant instinct suddenly activated the first time she reached for me with those tiny hands.
And yet, in trying to protect her and Sadie, I fucked up completely.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text from the PI I hired, startling me in the quiet house.
PI: Target located. Will have full financial and legal workup by morning.
I stare at the message and I’m instantly wired, hands itching. My first instinct is to tell him to give me the fucker’s address right now so I can go there to confront him, to make physically clear what will happen if he comes near Sadie or Poppy again.
But that would only make things worse. That would be another example of me taking control, making decisions without Sadie's input.
No. I can't keep doing this. Can't keep treating her like she's incapable of handling her own life, her own problems. She's stronger than I gave her credit for; she's been fighting this battle alone long before I showed up.
I type a response.
Me: Good work. Keep tracking. Don't engage. Full report to me only.
I set the phone down, leaning back into the couch. The right thing to do is clear, even if it's not what I want to do. I need to give all this information to Sadie. Let her decide how to use it. Support whatever choice she makes, even if I disagree.
No more secrets. No more "protecting" her by keeping her in the dark.
I try to fight my way back to sleep for a few more hours, but it's useless. By six a.m., I'm already at the brewery, going through inventory we don't need to check and reorganizing the office filing system nobody uses. Anything to keep my hands busy and my mind from spinning out completely.
"Dude, you're here early," my cousin Logan says, strolling in around eight with a coffee in each hand. He offers me one. "Thought you'd still be basking in the afterglow of your fancy Denver weekend."
I take the coffee but don't answer, turning back to the spreadsheets on my desk.
"That good, huh?" He grins, dropping into the chair across from me. "Must have been if you're too exhausted to even brag about it."
"Not now, bro," I mutter, not looking up.
"Come on, you've been dancing around this woman for weeks. The least you can do is tell me if the suite was worth it. Did she like the champagne? The room service? The—"
"I said not fucking now!" I slam my palm on the desk, coffee sloshing over the rim of my cup.
Logan jerks back, eyes wide. "Whoa. What the hell?"
The door opens and Trent walks in, taking in the scene with one quick glance. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," I snap, grabbing a handful of napkins to mop up the spilled coffee.
"Doesn't look like nothing," Trent says, leaning against the doorframe. "Looks like you're about to take Logan's head off for asking about your weekend."
I toss the soaked napkins in the trash, avoiding both their stares. "I don't want to talk about it."
"That bad?" Logan asks, his teasing tone replaced with genuine concern.
I scrub my hand down my face, suddenly exhausted. "The weekend was perfect. Everything after was a fucking disaster."
"What happened?" Trent asks, closing the door behind him and taking the seat next to Logan.
I hesitate, not sure how much to say. Not sure how much I can say without completely losing my shit again.
"Her ex showed up," I finally say. "The one she's been running from."
"Shit," Logan breathes. "Is she okay? Is the baby okay?"
"They're fine. Physically, at least." I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. "But I fucked up. Badly."
"How?" Trent asks.
I tell them everything, the photo I found on her car, my decision to hide it from her, Elliot's arrival, the confrontation in the parking lot, Sadie's fury when she discovered what I'd kept from her.
"Jesus," Logan mutters when I finish. "What a mess."
"Yeah, no shit." I rub my eyes which burn from lack of sleep. "I was trying to protect her, give her one night without fear. Instead, I made everything worse."
"You screwed up," Trent says bluntly. "But your heart was in the right place."
"That doesn't matter," I argue. "I took away her choice. Her right to know what was happening in her own life."
"It's what any of us would have done," Logan says, leaning forward. "We're protectors, man. It's in our DNA."
"That doesn't make it right," I argue, the guilt sitting low in my stomach. "You didn't see her face when she realized what I'd done. She looked at me like… like I was him."
They exchange glances, and I can tell they're trying to find the right words, something to make me feel better about royally fucking up the best thing that's happened to me in years.
"Give her time," Logan finally says. "She's dealing with a lot right now."
"Time is exactly what we don't have," I say, checking my watch. "Her flight to Oregon is tomorrow. And now Elliot knows exactly where to find her when she gets back."
"Maybe you should go with her," Trent suggests.
I laugh, the sound hollow and bitter. "She won't even answer my texts. I doubt she wants me on a plane with her."
"Then what's your plan?" Logan asks.
I pull out my phone, showing them the text from the PI. "Information. Leverage. Anything we can use against this asshole to make sure he never threatens Sadie or Poppy again."
Logan whistles low. "You hired a private investigator? That's… intense."
"It's necessary," I snap, defensive even though I know how it sounds. "This guy is dangerous. Not with his fists, but with his mind. He's the type who knows exactly how to use the system against her."
"And what are you going to do with whatever dirt this PI digs up?" Trent asks, his voice carefully neutral.
"Give it to Sadie," I say firmly. "It's her life, her fight. I'm just providing resources she wouldn't otherwise have."
They nod, seemingly relieved that I'm not planning vigilante justice, though part of me still wants to handle Elliot personally.
"We'll help however we can," Logan says, standing. "Just say the word."
"Thanks," I mutter, genuinely grateful despite my foul mood.
They head toward the door, but Trent pauses, looking back at me with an expression I can't quite read.
"You coming?" Logan asks him.
"In a minute," Trent says. "I need to talk to Axel first."
Logan looks between us, then shrugs. "Alright. I'll get started on the morning checks."
When the door closes behind him, Trent sits back down across from me. The silence stretches between us, uncomfortable in a way it rarely is with my brother.
"What?" I finally ask, irritated.
"You're in love with her," he says simply.
His response catches me off guard. "I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." He smiles, leaning back in his chair. “About time you got your head outta your ass and got serious about someone.”
"I'm not…" The denial dies on my lips. What's the point of lying to Trent? He's always seen through my bullshit. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to someone who knows you." Trent's expression softens. "You hired a private investigator, Axel. That's not exactly casual dating behavior."
I run my hand through my hair, a nervous habit I can't seem to break. "Yeah, well. Doesn't matter how I feel. I fucked it all up."
"Maybe. Maybe not." He stands, clapping me on the shoulder. "Give her space—but don't give up. If she means that much to you, fight for her. The right way."
I nod, not trusting my voice. As Trent leaves, closing the door behind him, his words echo in my head. Fight for her. The right way.
Not by controlling. Not by hiding things. Not by making decisions for her. But by supporting her, giving her the tools she needs to fight her own battles.
For the first time since last night, I feel something like hope.
I head back to my office, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face despite everything.
Trent's right. I am in love with Sadie. Completely, stupidly in love with her fierce independence, her devotion to Poppy, the rare vulnerability she shows only when she feels safe.
Even her stubbornness, her walls, her defenses, I love all of it.
I just hope I haven’t burned every inch of ground between us. Because if I get another chance, I’m not letting her walk away. Not without a fight. Not without her knowing exactly whom she belongs to.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I'm unlocking my office door. It's Reeves, the PI.
PI: Found enough to bury him. Completely.
Me: What exactly?
PI: Need to meet. Some of this shouldn't be in writing. Will send summary in secure email, but there's more.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. Whatever he found, it's big. Dangerous, maybe. The kind of information that could change everything.
Me: Hold everything. Don't send anything yet.
I sink into my chair, staring out the window at the mountains in the distance. If what Reeves found is as explosive as he's implying, I can't just dump it on Sadie right before her flight. Not when she's already terrified, already preparing for the worst.
But I can't hide it from her either. Not again.
She'll hate me if I keep more secrets. She'll never forgive me if I decide what information she can and can't have about her own life.
But dropping a bomb on her when she's about to face Elliot in court? When she's already struggling to keep it together for Poppy's sake? That feels cruel too.
I close my eyes, trying to clearly think through the tangle of worry and guilt and love clouding my judgment. What's the right call here?
The answer comes to me with sudden clarity. I need to be there. In Oregon. With her. Not to take over, not to fight her battles, but to stand beside her. To give her this information in person, where I can explain why I waited, where I can help her process whatever Reeves found.
I check my watch. Her flight is tomorrow morning. If I'm going to do this, I need to move now, call our private jet, pack a bag, make arrangements for the brewery.
But what if she doesn't want me there? What if my presence makes things worse?
I close my eyes, picturing her face. The fear in her eyes when Elliot showed up. The fury when she discovered what I'd hidden. The way she looked in Denver, relaxed and happy, before everything fell apart.
I can't let her face this alone. Not when I have resources that could help her. Not when I might be able to make a difference.
Decision made, I call the airline and book a ticket on the same flight as hers. Not to crowd her, not to force my company on her, but to be there if she needs me. To have her back, whether she wants me there or not.
Next, I call Reeves.
"I'm heading to Oregon tomorrow," I tell him when he answers. "I need you to meet me at the brewery in an hour with everything you've found. And I mean everything."
"You got it," he replies. "But Axel? This is explosive stuff. Life-changing. You sure you want to be the one to deliver it?"
"I'm sure," I say, more confident than I feel. "She deserves to know—and she deserves to hear it from someone who cares about her."
"Your call," he says. "See you in an hour."
I hang up and stare out the window again, watching clouds gather over the mountains. A storm is coming, both literally and figuratively. I just hope I'm doing the right thing this time.
My phone buzzes with a text. I grab for it, hoping it’s her, but it's just Logan confirming a delivery schedule. I type a quick response, trying not to feel disappointed.
She might not want to see me. Might not want my help. Might never forgive me for what I did. But I have to try. Have to be there for her, even if it's the last time.
"I'm coming back for you, Sadie," I whisper to the empty office. "Whether you want me or not."