Chapter 5 #2
“You saw those comments. Judith’s already organizing people against me.
And when Judith Ashford decides someone doesn’t belong here, they’re gone within a month.
We’ve both seen it happen. The yoga studio.
The craft brewery. Gone because Judith decided they didn’t fit with the values of Sierra Rose Ridge and got her righteous mob of vindictive busybodies to make their lives miserable.
“That’s not going to happen to you.”
“Someone has already suggested a boycott. How am I supposed to run a bookshop in a town where half the people think I’m a disgrace for writing romance?”
“Not half the people. A very loud and obnoxious minority. There were supportive comments too, and far more than the negative—“
“It doesn’t matter.” She cuts me off. “Even if most people have no problem with it, the ones who think I’m disgusting for writing sex will never let me forget it. You know how this works. Small towns. Gossip. Judgment.” She gestures at the boxes. “I’ve done this before. I know how to leave.”
Sadie stands up and moves to her luggage, folding the shirt she tossed in it earlier. She grabs another piece of clothing and does the same, placing it neatly with the rest. I lean forward, elbows on knees, hands gripped together.
“What if you didn’t have to do it alone this time?”
She freezes, turns, and looks at me. “What?”
“You’re not alone in this, Sadie. Whatever happens, whatever you decide, you don’t have to deal with it by yourself.
If you want to leave, I’ll help you pack.
I’ll drive the moving truck. I’ll make sure you get wherever you’re going safely.
But if you want to stay, if there’s any part of you that wants to fight for this life you’ve built, I’m here.
I’ll stand with you. I’ll help you handle Judith, the boycott…
every fucking person who thinks they have a right to judge you. ”
She shakes her head softly, brows furrowing in confusion.
“Why?” Her voice is barely a whisper. “Why would you do that?”
Because I love you. I’ve loved you for five years. The thought of you leaving is tearing me apart. If you go, I don’t think I could move on.
But I can’t say that. Not now. Not when she’s this vulnerable, this raw, this ready to run.
“Because,” I say instead. “Friends show up for each other, no questions asked.”
She stares at me for a long moment. Then she sinks back onto the couch, head in her hands.
“I don’t know what to do,” she admits. “I don’t want to run, but I’m so scared of what happens if I stay.”
We both lean back to where we started minutes ago, her head on my shoulder.
“You don’t have to decide right now. Take the day. Think about it,” I tell her. “But Sadie? Whatever you choose, you’re not doing it alone. I promise.”
She doesn’t respond. Just sits there, staring at the half-packed boxes, tears sliding down her face onto my shirt.
And I sit with her in silence, because that’s what you do for the people you love.
You show up. Especially when they can’t ask you to.
My phone buzzes. I take it out of my pocket and glance at the screen.
Isabel: Judith just posted again. Calling for a discussion at the next town meeting to “fix the situation.” This is getting worse.
“Mierda.“ Of course, Judith’s not done. She’s just getting started.
Sadie looks up at me with a sigh.
“What now?” She asks, voice resigned.
“It’s nothing—“
“Mateo.” She holds out her hand. “Let me see.”
“You don’t need to—“
“I need to know what I’m dealing with.” Her jaw sets. “Show me.”
I hesitate, then hand her my phone. She reads Isabel’s text, and I watch her face go carefully blank.
The same expression she wore when Owen used to criticize her.
The one I imagine she used when her family called her work pornography.
A practiced neutrality that means she’s barely holding it together.
“A town meeting,” she says flatly. “To discuss me. Like I’m some kind of town crisis that needs to be handled.”
“Judith’s just trying to stir up drama—“
“And it’s working!” She hands my phone back, stands, and paces. “How many people do you think will show up? Fifty? A hundred? All of them ready to tell me how I’ve disrespected Sierra Rose Ridge by writing a romance novel?”
“You don’t have to go.”
“Don’t I?” Her laugh is bitter. “If I don’t show up, they’ll just tear me apart without me there to defend myself. And if I do show up...” She trails off, staring at the boxes again.
This is it. This is the moment she decides to run.
“When’s the next town hall?” she asks quietly.
“End of the month.”
“So what, that’s like two and a half weeks? Not even.” She closes her eyes. “Two weeks to decide if I’m staying or running.”
Please stay.
But this has to be her choice.
“Two weeks,” I agree. “You’ve got time.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then takes a shaky breath.
“Okay.” She wipes her eyes. “What are my options? If I stay, what does that actually look like?”
The weight in my chest lessens a little. She’s asking for options. She’s asking me to help her think through whether to stay.
That’s something.
“Well,” I start, “you could go to the meeting. Face Judith head-on, make your case in front of everyone. Or you could skip it entirely, let them talk themselves out until they all fall asleep from lack of air, and just keep running your shop like nothing happened.”
“Both of those sound terrible.”
“Yep. They do.” I pause. “You could do something in between. Make a statement on your own terms. Post something online before the meeting even happens. Control the narrative instead of letting Judith control it.”
She considers that, nodding slowly before turning her nod into a shake of her head. “I hate that she’s the one calling the shots here. Like she gets to decide whether I’m welcome in this town or not.”
“She doesn’t get to decide that. No one does. You’re the one who built a business here. You’re the one who’s been part of this community.” I stand and step over to her. Our eyes meet. “Judith’s just loud. That doesn’t make her right.”
“She’s really loud, though.”
“Yeah, she is. Fuck Judith.”
The corner of Sadie’s mouth twitches. It’s not quite a smile, but it’s close.
“I agree. Fuck Judith,” she repeats, testing the words. Then, quieter, with a little more conviction, “Fuck Judith and all her holier-than-thou minions.”
There it is. A real smile. Small, exhausted, but real.
“That’s my girl,” I say without thinking.
The smile wavers, something shifting in her expression I can’t quite read. Surprise, maybe. Or awareness. Her eyes meet mine and hold, and for a second, the air between us feels charged.
Dangerous.
Like we’re balanced on the edge of something that could change everything.
And she doesn’t pull away or correct me. There is no reminder that we’re just friends.
She just looks at me with those wide eyes, and I wonder if she’s finally starting to see what I’ve been trying to show her for five years.
She hasn’t unpacked the boxes, but she’s stopped filling them.
And I’m still here, which is more than I can say for anyone else who’s ever claimed to love her.
If she runs, I’ll let her go. I meant that.
But god, I hope she stays.