Chapter 17
Seventeen
Sadie
M y phone is sitting in my hands, an unsent message haunting me on the screen. It’s just past nine, and I’m so restless I could die. I wasn’t kidding when I told Lucas today that it’s been far too long for me.
It’s not that I was used to getting sex every week, but I had a healthy sex life before this baby came along. Or maybe before I moved in with Luke. I don’t know which one killed it more or if it was both.
So now I’m sitting here alone in the back office of the club, staring at my phone, contemplating this message. I’ve never been so desperate for sex in my life, but I figure if I’m going to scratch this itch, I might as well do it with him, right?
He is the father of my baby, after all.
Busy tonight? Wanna hang out?
“Just hit send, you coward,” I mutter to myself.
Something is holding me back, and I don’t know what it is. Maybe I’m just determined to have a better night with Jax than we had the first time. Maybe Lucas has gotten into my head so much that I don’t feel like myself anymore.
I have other past friends with benefits I could call. People in this club right now who would love some company, I’m sure. But I’m desperately clinging to something with Jax—this dream of something perfect. Which makes me feel out of my mind. I barely know the guy. Envisioning some picturesque life together with him and me and the baby is so out of touch with reality it’s humiliating.
But I can’t help it. That’s what I want.
Suddenly, my thumb smashes the send button without hesitation.
It’s a Thursday night. There’s no way he’s going to respond?—
Hey sexy. I’m not busy.
I bolt upright in my seat. My eyes scan the message three times to be sure I’m reading it right.
Then another text comes through and I instantly deflate.
Having a few drinks at Club Max. You should come.
I hate Club Max. After a bad experience there a few years back, I haven’t stepped foot in that club and going alone is the worst of bad ideas. But surely, I’ll be fine tonight. I’ll be with Jax.
Hesitantly, I type out my response.
I’ll be there in fifteen.
I hit send with a nervous smile on my face. Standing from the chair, I check myself in the mirror on the door. I’m wearing a sheer black crop top over a black bra and high-waist black pants. Turning to the side, I check my profile and notice that my stomach doesn’t stick out any more than it used to. Although when I look at my body straight on, my waist doesn’t have the curves it once had. I’m starting to fill out on all angles, but at least it’s not obvious that I’m pregnant. No one wants to see a big pregnant belly at the club.
Grabbing my coat from the hook, I log out of the computer and dash out the door. There’s another floor manager on duty tonight. I was supposed to get off at nine, but as I wave goodbye and rush out through the back door of the club, I briefly wonder if I should tell Luke that I’m not coming straight home.
Will he worry? I mean, I already know he’ll be angry, but he’s always angry.
Will he punish me for this? Is that weird, punishing me for hooking up when I was supposed to come home?
Oh well. That’ll be tomorrow-Sadie’s problem because tonight-Sadie needs to get off.
I climb in my car and make the short drive over to Club Max, trying to remember the good days before the very, very bad one.
Fresh out of high school, my friends and I would make our rounds every weekend night to each of the city’s nightclubs. We were underage and high on our youth, but whenever my friends rejoiced at the clubs that didn’t look closely at our IDs, if they even looked at them at all, I cringed.
My interest in nightlife always went a bit deeper than everyone else’s. My friends were out to get drunk, get laid, and be reckless. But I was too busy looking deeper, seeing potential, seeing risks, and finding flaws.
Nightlife could be so much better than this. It didn’t have to be seedy and dangerous. That’s not what we wanted. We wanted liberation and expression in more forms than just shots and grinding on a dance floor with a stranger who smelled like cheap body spray and bad decisions.
In my early twenties, I discovered sex clubs, mostly by accident. I found a few online, and it opened my eyes to a whole new world. I toured for a year straight, absorbing everything I could learn, picking up small jobs here and there, apprenticing, and immersing myself headfirst in a world that was wildly flawed with so much potential.
Then I came home. Opened up my own consulting business. Worked at a few random clubs, and then picked up a job at Pink. And the rest was history.
Now, going back there with two years of meaningful work under my belt feels slightly good, like I’ve grown and changed since my time there. I’m not the same girl I was that night.
After parking, I pass the line waiting outside and breathe a sigh of relief when I see a doorman I recognize from the few times he’s worked at Pink. His stern exterior breaks into a smile when he sees me.
“Sadie?” he says in a greeting before opening his arms for a hug. I let him embrace me and laugh a little at how soft and sweet most of these scary-looking bouncers really are. “What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Meeting up with a friend,” I reply.
He lifts the red rope to allow me in before patting me warmly on the back. “Any creeps give you trouble, you just text me.”
“I will. Thank you,” I reply with a grin, feeling a bit better now that he’s said that.
As I enter the club, I’m surprised to find it so crowded. Immediately, my skin starts to crawl and I feel a sense of unease wash over me. A sweaty arm brushes mine, and I resist the urge to scream and run.
Ignoring my rising panic, I wind through the masses toward the couches in the back. I have no doubt that’s where Jax is. Someone like him doesn’t sit at pub tables or around the bar.
“Sexy Sadie!”
His voice rings over the deafening beat of the music, and I look up to find him holding his arms up for me. Immediately I can tell by his smile that he’s drunk, a slightly unsettling realization. I really don’t want to hook up with someone who’s intoxicated, but I’ll give him a chance. Maybe I’m wrong.
When he pulls me into his arms, I breathe in the scent of his cologne and try to just savor the feel of his large frame engulfing me.
This is so nice.
“Come sit,” he shouts over the music. “You want something to drink?” He tries to put his iridescent blue drink to my lips.
With a wince, I shake my head. “No thanks.”
“Oh yeah,” he replies before throwing his head back and laughing. “I keep forgetting.” His gaze drops to my stomach and then back to my face. “How the hell are you? I got those pics you sent me, but I’ll be honest, I couldn’t see shit.” He laughs again.
Forcing a smile, I shrug. “It’s okay. I couldn’t either.”
I really don’t want to talk about the baby.
As he tugs me toward the giant blue couch situated in a square around a round table littered with empty glasses, I notice the crowd as they all look up at me with scrutiny. It’s mostly women, all thin and blonde and beautiful.
I feel like a monster invading the party.
Jax drops onto the sofa, pulling me down next to him. He nestles me under his arm, and I softly smile to myself. He really does like me, which gives me hope. All of the panic and paranoia from when I first walked in has started to subside.
As he and his friends laugh and drink, I stay quiet by his side, anxiously waiting for the opportunity to be alone with him.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out and glance at the screen.
Where are you?
Biting my bottom lip, I swallow down my guilt as I put it back in my pocket.
What the hell am I guilty of? I’m an adult. I can go where I want, when I want. I don’t owe Luke an explanation. He’s not my boyfriend or my father. He’s just my professor and also maybe…my Dom ?
Jax and his friends order another round of drinks, and I get cranberry and soda water to at least have something to sip on.
My phone buzzes again.
You should have been home two hours ago. Where the fuck are you?
“What a control freak,” I mumble to myself.
“Is that your boyfriend?” Jax’s deep, slurring voice whispers in my ear.
I slam my phone face down and smile up at him. “Fuck no. Just my bossy roommate.”
“Well, let’s make him jealous then,” he replies with a wink. He takes my phone and opens the camera app, pointing it at us. We fit perfectly in the frame as he snaps a few pictures.
Then, I watch with horror as he puts the photo in the message box and sends it to Luke. As he drops it in my lap, he grins.
“There. Now maybe he’ll fuck off.”
I laugh uncomfortably to myself, staring down when Jax’s hand touches my chin and lifts my gaze up to his face. As he leans in to kiss me, I feel my phone buzz in my lap. Ignoring Luke, I let Jax’s lips touch mine.
My lips part, and Jax’s tongue invades my mouth as my phone buzzes again.
I’m fuming as Lucas continues to distract me during this kiss, but eventually, one of Jax’s friends interrupts us. He slaps Jax on the leg as the waitress sets a tray of shots on the table. The ten of them all take the shots together, and when I expect Jax to direct his attention back to me, a woman approaches and asks him for a photo and his autograph.
When he stands from the couch, part of me knows he’s not coming back.
And I was right.
He gets pulled away to the dance floor and to another crowd who fawn over his celebrity status. No one at the table starts a conversation with me, and after a while, I sink into my own pity party.
The lights are too bright and the music is too loud and harmful memories start to creep in again, as if there’s not five years between then and now. It’s all happening again.
To ground myself, I pick up my phone and glance at the texts from Luke.
Where are you, Sadie?
Just tell me you’re okay.
My throat starts to sting as I stare at his messages, no longer abrasive and controlling but worried and attentive.
This thing with Luke has to end. It’s gotten too involved and messy. We can’t keep doing this. He can’t keep worrying about me or trying to fix me because without fail, every time, I will fuck up. And I don’t need another person to disappoint.
Blinking away the urge to cry, I glance up from my phone to find the rest of the sofa empty. Looking around the club, I don’t see any sign of Jax or his friends—just their empty shot glasses and spilled drinks.
I’m alone.
My skin breaks out in painful goose bumps that prick the surface, tingling up my legs and arms and down my spine. My chest starts to heave and struggle to breathe like there’s a weight on it. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to imagine I’m somewhere else.
I just need to get out of here. But I can’t move.
I just need?—
“Miss Green.” That deep, calm voice tears my attention away from my frantic thoughts. My head snaps up as I stare at Lucas Goode standing over me with flaring nostrils and a clenched jaw.
The panic starts to dissipate immediately.
“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” I ask with a gasp.
He holds up his phone, a picture of Jax’s Instagram on the screen. “I know how to stalk a local celebrity on social media.”
I stand up and stare into his eyes, and something is so irritatingly comforting about it. Whatever I was just thinking about all just drifts away. Instead, I lunge, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face in his neck.
He winds his arms around my waist and squeezes me against him.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks.
“I’m sorry,” I sob into his neck.
“What are you sorry for?”
“I should have just come home. I thought he would want me, but he doesn’t.” My chest aches with those words, but Lucas only squeezes tighter.
“Come on,” he mumbles against my head. “Let’s go home.”
And I know it’s not the same. I know that Lucas doesn’t like me the way I want Jax to like me, but he’s here, and he cares. It may not be the hookup I wanted, but right now, it means so much more.