Chapter 16
sixteen
ZACH
“God, this décor is dated,” Autumn says, wrinkling her nose at the wallpaper in my living area like it personally offended her. “You really should let me draw up some plans to improve it.”
“It’s a place to sleep, not a show apartment,” I tell her, scrolling through my phone. “And it’s not even mine. Direct your criticism to the management.”
Her voice buzzes in the background, but my brain’s somewhere else. On the photo Sadie sent me the other night. On the way her cheeks were flushed pink as she stared into the camera. I’ve looked at it more times than I’d admit to anyone, especially my sister.
“Yeah well it needs refreshing. Gray is so three years ago.” Autumn props her elbows on the back of the couch and leans over, barely giving me time to lock my screen and shove it in my pocket.
“Jesus,” I say, frowning at how close she is. “Why are you here anyway?”
“I’m just visiting my brother.” She pouts. “Is there something wrong with that?”
“No. But you could have called.”
“And you wouldn’t have answered.” She picks up a throw pillow and studies it like it’s a crime scene. “I can’t believe this is still here. Hudson should’ve let me update this place years ago.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket with the call I’ve been expecting.
Sadie’s been on the mainland today, in meetings with a supplier, something to do with special edition books.
I have no idea what they are, but apparently, readers lose their minds over them.
I slip my hand into my pocket, press my thumb against the side button, and send the call straight to voicemail before Autumn can notice.
She’s still talking about paint colors when the next buzz comes through. A message this time. While Autumn is distracted with the rest of the throw pillows, I pull out my phone to check the message.
You sent me a designer dress. Really? – Sadie
The corner of my mouth lifts before I can stop it. It arrived. I like that way too much. The thought of her in it. The thought that she’ll be wearing it for me.
Plus, I need her in something bright. It’s silver and sparkly and even I won’t be able to miss her in the moonlight.
For the past few days we’ve been going back and forth. Me asking questions, her answering them. Me calling her, her talking about her day.
Me stalking the forest I’m going to chase her in for hours, so I remember every turn of the path. Just in case.
“Hudson said you went to the mainland the other day,” Autumn continues. “What for?”
She’s not even hiding her nosiness now. “I think I liked you better when you were gaga for Parker and forgot that anybody else in the world existed,” I say lightly.
“Yeah, well I liked you better when you actually communicated,” she counters. “No, wait. You never have.” She puts her hands on her hips. “So why were you there?”
I look her dead in the eye and say the one thing I know will drive her up the wall. “It’s a secret.”
Her groan is immediate. “You’re the worst. You know that, right? You can’t keep saying everything’s a secret and expect me not to care.”
“I think you’ll find I can,” I say, checking my phone again.
“Were you meeting someone? A woman?” she asks, a hopeful note in her voice. Seriously, how does Parker cope with this? The man deserves a medal.
“Yes,” I say. “I was fucking somebody’s brains out at eleven in the morning.” Even she notices the sarcasm in my voice. “It was work. I had a meeting. That’s all.”
“Then why didn’t you say so?” she whines.
“Because annoying you is so much more fun.”
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She shakes her head. “I don’t know why I bother sometimes.”
My phone vibrates again.
I thought you were going to chase me. Not take me dancing. – Sadie
“Who are you talking to?” Autumn asks, instantly suspicious. “I know you’re messaging somebody. Even if you’re trying to hide it.”
I lock the screen and slide the phone back into my pocket. “Nobody you know.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re lying. You’ve got the same smirk on your face you used to get when you told me I’d get carried away by gremlins if I didn’t brush my teeth.”
“And now you have the best set of teeth in Liberty. You’re welcome.”
Autumn shakes her head at me. “You know what? I give up. I just hope whoever she is knows what she’s getting into.”
“If she exists, I doubt she does,” I murmur.
But my sister is already picking up her purse and storming to the door. I let her leave, knowing she’ll burn out and calm down, the way she always does. Then I’ll tell her I’m sorry, throw her a bone, and things will be back to normal.
That’s the thing about Autumn. She burns bright but she also loves hard. And I love her back.
Every part of her except her curiosity, that is.
The door clicks shut, and I pick up the throw pillow she dropped – the one that’s so last season – and put it back on the sofa. And then I pull out my phone. Sadie’s message is still there, next to her profile photo.
Her face fills the screen, a faint flush staining her cheeks. I shouldn’t have saved it, but I have. I shouldn’t look again, but I do. She looks soft, undone, like she doesn’t know how much she gives away.
I press the call button next to her name before I think it through, a low breath escaping my lips as I wait for her to answer.
“So you’ve stopped ignoring me now?” she asks, her voice teasing.
“Autumn was here, being nosey,” I tell her. “But she’s gone now. How was the mainland?”
“It was good. So many beautiful books.” There’s a faint rustle, like she’s curling up on her sofa, her voice warm and close. “They were demonstrating their holiday season releases and I wanted all of them. You should have seen some of the spredges.”
“Spredges?” I say, frowning. “What the hell is that?”
“Sprayed edges. Some of them were to die for. I wanted to order everything.” She sounds breathless and it makes me smile.
She carries on talking about a dragon and a cinnamon roll and a Scottish café, and for a moment I forget about the game.
I lean back in the couch, closing my eyes as I listen to her warm voice.
She sounds happy. Light. It does something to me, hearing her like that.
Makes me want to keep her in the moment a little longer before I remind us both of what this is.
“And then I came home to your delivery,” she says. “It looks beautiful, but it’ll get ruined if I run in it.”
My lips curl. That’s the plan.
“Just wear it tomorrow night,” I tell her. My body tightens thinking about her in it.
“I will,” she breathes.
“Good. You’re gonna look so pretty for me when I chase you.” I clear my throat. “And after tonight, I won’t be contacting you. You’ll get a message from me at dusk tomorrow. It’ll tell you where to be. What to do. Until then, silence. No texts, no calls.”
Because if she wants this, I want to make it good for her. Like the book. I want to give her the full experience.
While I can.
There’s a tiny pause, the sound of her breathing quick and uneven. “Okay,” she whispers.
“Good,” I murmur. “Now try to get some rest.”
“I will.”
“And you remember what to do if you want it to stop?” Because we’ve covered this too. In our messages, during our phone calls. I’m not leaving a damn thing up to chance.
She trusts me with this. And I want to deserve her trust.
“Yes,” she breathes. “I yell my secret word.”
“Which is?”
“Pomegranate.” She starts to laugh, and fuck it, I chuckle too.
“As loud as you can. I don’t care if you have to scream it. And once you do, everything stops. No questions, no hesitation.” I pause, letting the quiet hum between us. “You’re in control here. I need you to know that.”
“I know,” she says softly. “I trust you.”
Damn if that doesn’t hit me right between the ribs.
“And if you change your mind before tomorrow night, just send me a message. There’ll be no hard feelings.” I’ll fucking hate it. But I’ll understand.
“I won’t change my mind.” There’s a strength to her words. “But why won’t you call me tomorrow?” she adds, like she’s going to miss hearing my voice.
Because I want you to experience everything you can. Because I want you to feel like you’ve never felt before. “It’ll be better this way,” I promise.
“Okay,” she says, sounding so trusting it makes my chest tighten.
We stay like that for a long moment, the silence weighted and electric. Then I make myself break out of the comfortable silence. “Go to bed, Sadie. Rest up.”
“Goodnight, Zach,” she says.
“Goodnight, beautiful.”
When the line goes dead, I sit back, phone still in my hand. My pulse is steady, but my thoughts are not. The next time I see her, she will be running. From me. From her fear. From whatever this is about to become.