Sadie Let’s Make A Deal
Sadie
Let’s Make A Deal
How can I ask for help when I’m not sure exactly what I’m dealing with? The puzzles themselves aren’t the problem. It’s all the other complications that feel impossible to explain. He said he has experience, though, and that in itself gives me hope.
Max squeezes my hand gently, his gaze encouraging me to spill all my secrets.
My skin itches under the intensity, as this isn’t what I do.
I don’t ask for help. I’m more of a figure it out myself or die trying kind of girl.
Not to mention the way my heart flutters each time he looks at me…
like I’m someone he’s starting to adore.
"It’s Beth—"
Max inhales deeply.
"She’s my friend."
"Okay? Didn’t see that coming…" he spins his hat so it’s facing forward again, and I wish he didn’t. Max in a backward hat is a sight to behold.
"Like a best friend, she’s been in my life forever. And when I came home, she gave me this." I reach into my bag, pulling out the leather-bound book.
Max holds his hands out, and I drop it into them.
His fingers trace the embossed title before he unties the knot holding it closed.
I watch as he flips to the first page, and his eyes widen when he sees the word altruistic in gold lettering.
Max flips through a couple more silently.
When he reaches the back, his hand runs along the letter tucked there—the one he gave me in the parking lot.
He sucks his teeth. "Is this? Did I give you—"
"Yes, that’s just one of the bizarre things. She gave me the book, but there wasn’t a letter until you handed it to me. I mean, to be honest, the book wasn’t even in my bag until you ran into me."
"I didn’t run into you," Max challenges.
"Whatever, you know what I mean. It wasn’t with me, Max.
" I chew my lip, waiting for him to grasp what I’m saying.
"I think it’s hexed. It keeps showing up in places, the words change color when I solve the clues, and some other strange things.
Beth said if I solve these, I’ll find my fate.
I’m not sure I believe that… but it won’t stop taunting me.
I figure I either take control, or it controls me, you know? "
Max’s lips tip up into his signature flirty smirk. "Are you into that? Giving up control, Sade?"
"Max," I warn, trying to tamp down the sudden heat that’s racing through me. Is he trying to suggest? He'd be surprised to learn I’ve had nothing better than vanilla if so.
"I’m kidding"—his face suggests otherwise, and I don’t hate the idea—"so what do you need me to do? Or did you just want someone else to know?"
I look out across the park, spotting Benny as he leaps from the top of one of the doggie tunnels, a look of pure joy on his face, pure freedom.
It may sound bizarre to compare myself to a dog, but if I’m taking anything from Levi’s endless nagging and Beth’s meddling, it’s that I don’t ever just take the leap.
Maybe it’s time I do, even if it’s small.
Taking a deep inhale for courage, I settle my gaze back on Max.
"The first two clues were solved by you. One was because I thought of our conversation at the lighthouse, and the second was when I texted you." I flip the pages and show him both clues before pulling the letter out of the back. Unfolding it, I use my finger to point at the hint that reads: two is always better than one. "I had already figured out the word helpful, but it wouldn’t change color until you texted me. I think this means I’m supposed to have help, that maybe I can’t do it alone. "
Benny rushes over to us, panting until Max takes out a collapsible bowl from his pocket and pours some water into it. "So you need me. I’m honored, Sade, truly." He leans forward, petting Benny’s head. "It’s gonna cost you though."
"What?" He can’t be serious.
Max laughs, scooping Benny up into his lap. The adorable pup crawls over to me, working his way up my chest to nuzzle my neck. "I have my own opinion about what you need…"
A scoff slips out of me. "And that would be what, exactly?"
"Fun, experiences, memories." His arms swing out wide like he’s showing me the world in front of me. "I’ll make you a deal. One clue solved for every fun thing we do together."
"I don’t know. I mean, what if you aren’t even the person I need for this?
It could have been a coincidence the first two times…
" It’s not that I don’t want to work with him, as I’m the one asking.
But I didn’t expect it to come with stipulations, and I’m not sure spending more time with Max O’Reilly is a good idea.
If the constant buzzing under my skin and flutter in my chest are any indication—spending time with him has the potential to hurt when I inevitably leave.
"I’ll give you a freebie then. You got Benny boy to do something I haven’t been able to. Seems like a fair trade—"
"And a way to prove my theory wrong." I laugh, sarcasm dripping from my tongue.
"Potatoh, Potahto. You scared?"
I flip the book open to the third puzzle, not willing to back down from a challenge, and together we look at the clue.
12. Down
When pinched: A descriptor for someone who powers through.
"Okay, so it’s eight letters, maybe credible or unfailing." I close my eyes, trying to think. It would be a lot easier if he weren’t staring at the side of my face. "No, those have too many letters. It could be—"
"Reliable."
"What, how did you…" I shake my head, pulling a pencil from my purse. He was always smart. It was the most frustrating thing about tutoring him—I always wanted him to simply apply himself, but hockey came first. "I was getting there, must be beginner's luck," I say under my breath.
Max points at his chest. "Nah. I’m just that good, Sade.
Looks like you need me after all." He stands abruptly, clipping Benny’s leash to his collar and grabbing him to place him on the ground.
"I’ve got to get going, but let me know when you decide you're willing to take my deal. I promise it’ll be fun. "
Max winks before walking away, and I scribble in the letters, waiting to see if the lead changes color.
When gold melts onto the page, I can’t deny I need his help.
He has experience where I don't. He's not completely freaked out by the notion that magic is real…
that some things really aren't in our control.
I just have to reconcile how much I want it, how much these quick exits we keep making from each other affect me, and how I can work with him without my heart thinking it means more than it does.
"Mal!" I call, walking into my sister's home.
It smells like too many candles are burning, a mixture of vanilla, patchouli, and man? The smell is pungent, not a blend I’d buy—even from her.
"Back here," my sister’s voice cracks as it drifts from her workroom.
Tossing my bag on the couch, I don’t bother slipping out of my shoes as something is clearly wrong. Stepping quickly down the hallway, the scent intensifies, making my eyes water. I push the swinging door open and take in the sight laid out before me.
This room is supposed to be a pantry, or maybe a laundry room, but right now the ten by ten space is littered with several broken jars, melted wax dripping from a few surfaces sporadically, and Mal—crumpled on the floor.
"Oh my God. What happened? Are you okay?"
Her tear-stained face rises, splotches of red mixed with black streaks from her mascara running down it.
She groans, shaking her head from left to right. I carefully step around the broken glass, finding a bare spot next to her to kneel.
I grab her hand, gently squeezing. "Mal, what’s going on?"
"I lost the job." She sniffs into her free hand. "The store I met with chose another vendor."
"Okay?"
"I know this seems like an overreaction… it’s just that I try so hard to balance it all.
Sales are in the trash, and apparently my dreams are too.
" Mal pulls her hand from my grip and wipes her face. "They said that they needed to bet on someone whose sole focus was their business… they didn’t choose me because I’m ‘stretched too thin’… because I’m a mom."
I push back to standing. This is unlike my sister. She never backs down from a fight, never cowers. But if there’s anything I understand, it’s fighting for what you want, what you deserve.
"Wow, okay. So Mallory Hayes is a quitter.
Good to know, because Mallory Wells would never give up and trash her workspace because some hipster jerkoff underestimated her.
" I should probably be more understanding, as it wasn’t long ago that I was the one having a meltdown, but this is bullshit, and sometimes tough love is exactly what we need.
"Fuck off, Sade." My sister joins me and stands. "You have no idea what it’s like juggling all of this."
A laugh bubbles out of me, and it’s as half-hearted as her excuse. "Yep. You’re right, no clue what it takes to give up everything to chase my dreams just to have it all ripped away. Those eighty-hour weeks worked themselves," I spit back sarcastically.
"That’s not the same!"
"Isn’t it? I have a career that’s my whole life, and I love it.
You have kids to care for, a husband who loves you, your family, and your business.
Just because one leg of that four-legged stool cracked doesn’t mean it’s falling over.
" I begin picking up broken glass and laying it on her worktable.
"What would you tell the girls if this were happening to them?
Hell, what did you tell me just a few days ago? "
Mal grabs a broom from the corner of the room, sweeping chunks of glass into a dustpan.
I scooch behind her, grabbing the wax remover to wipe the counters.
We work in silence, gathering the mess and disposing of it as if nothing ever happened.
It's funny, really. A part of me wishes that cleaning up all of life's messes was this simple—that I could toss a book I don't need in the trash and it would stay there, or that I could explain to Levi, wipe my eyes, and move forward.
When twenty minutes have passed and the just-trashed space is sparkling clean, Mal dips down to grab two waters from her mini fridge.
She slips onto a stool and pushes one of the cold, clear bottles toward me with a nod.
Following her lead, I slip onto the round chair beside her and crack the drink open.
"I guess you’re right. I’m sorry you had to see this.
Sorry that you had to help me clean up." She takes a long pull of her water, clearing her throat after downing the cold liquid. "The weight of carrying it all… it’s crushing me. And I think I’m about two days away from my luteal phase.
I just needed to smash something, cry a little, and maybe buy some chocolate chip cookies. "
I get where she’s coming from. I’ve felt that way too. Like, no matter what steps you take, you’re stuck in quicksand with no way forward. It’s paralyzing, and in those moments, the ones where the walls are closing in and oxygen feels scarce—we panic.
"Mal, I’m always going to be here. I want to help you. I know—"
"What it feels like? I’m worried about you, Sade." She stops peeling the wrapper on the bottle she's holding and grabs both of my hands. "Like you said, my stool has four legs, but yours only has one."
Damn. I didn’t expect her to reverse that on me, but she’s right. Maybe they're all right. Maybe I need to find some other legs for my stool. Maybe learning to have fun again would be a start.
"Ugh, fine!" I throw my hands in the air. "I’m doing the stupid puzzle book. And I-sorta-asked-Max-to-help-me-do-it," I rush out.
Mal laughs, bouncing up and down in glee. I swear to God, her emotions give me whiplash sometimes. "Shut up! You did not!"
I nod. "I did, and do you know what he said?" My eyes drift to my shoes as thoughts of Max make my heart flutter. "He said he’d only help me if I agreed to do one fun thing with him for every clue we solve."
"Stop, that’s so cute." Mal returns to sweeping, getting the last of the broken pieces from the floor. "You’re doing it right? Letting loose and having some fun with the prince of Mage Hollow?"
"I am now. I hope I don’t regret it."