Chapter 15 #2
Why did Bear and Scout think asking for Sadie’s help was a good idea?
And why was I letting her get under my skin this easily?
I could already picture it now, Scout stumbling over himself to impress Jazz, and me having to do damage control when Sadie’s meddling backfired on everyone. I wasn’t running a damn dating service.
She continued to text, her fingers flying across the screen while the rest of her ignored me. “Don’t sound so jealous, Rowan. He’s not my type.” Her voice had that infuriating, dismissive tone to it, and she didn’t even bother to look at me as she spoke.
“I’m not jealous,” I said, sinking back into the couch to stop myself from snapping.
The springs creaked under me, the fabric still smelling faintly of dust and Sadie’s perfume, like nothing and everything had changed.
I bit my tongue to stop myself from asking what her type was.
What if I wasn’t it? As much as I hated to admit it, truth was, Scout wasn’t the only one who’d be lost if he finally got the girl.
Yeah, I was fucking hopeless.
“Okay. Done.” With a final tap, she tucked her phone into the back pocket of her shorts and clapped her hands. “Let’s do this before Dad gets back. He’s got enough reasons to be pissed at me right now.”
Interesting. I wanted to ask her what her old man was pissed about. If it had anything to do with me, then I’d be more than happy to rub it in his weathered face. The bastard didn’t get to control me any more than he could control Sadie .
Instead, I kept my mouth shut and stood, rubbing my hands together. “Where are these boxes?”
Nothing was more awkward than not knowing what to do with myself when Sadie was around. At least I was getting better at asking, even if it was killing me from the inside out.
For a moment, Sadie continued to stare at me, her eyes darting to my mouth like I’d just reminded her of more than the boxes. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and pointed to the kitchen.
“Everything’s in the shed,” she said, a private storm of thoughts behind her eyes. “Mum’s boxes are labelled ‘Patricia.’ Like she meant nothing.” She mumbled those last words, more to herself than to me.
But I understood exactly what she meant.
When someone died, it was easy enough to shove everything that ever reminded you of them into a box and label it as though they were nothing more than a name on a cardboard lid. A last name when you wanted to pretend, a first name when you still had affection to give but no-one left to give it to.
With Logan, I hadn’t touched his room since he’d died. And it wasn’t like me to keep things around that hurt. Sadie was the exception. But Logan? Him and his space lingered.
Sometimes, I just sat on his bed for hours, staring at the posters and photos he had stuck on the wall, waiting for something to make sense.
He had always been taking pictures, practically since the kid could walk, and his room was covered in them, mostly of him and Sadie.
Some with me. Others with Jasmine. But mostly, it was just Sadie.
It was like a shrine to the way things used to be, before she left a hole bigger than I should’ve allowed.
I didn’t know how many hours I had spent staring at an eighteen-year-old version of her.
And now stood a twenty-four-year-old version, one who was staring at me like I’d lost the plot entirely.
“Did you say something?” I scratched at the back of my neck.
Had I just been staring at her? Fuck. That’d be right—make myself look like a complete moron, like a lovesick idiot checking out the one woman guaranteed to rip me to shreds.
Sadie arched an eyebrow. “I said Jasmine will be at yours in an hour.” Her tone had as much enthusiasm I imagined it would have while reminding a child to put his shoes on before heading out the door.
I cleared my throat. “Right. Better get to it then.” With my focus on the side door attached to the kitchen, I stalked past her and headed out into the backyard, then into the shed.
Like Sadie had said, all the boxes were labelled. I grabbed the largest one, ‘Patricia’ scrawled in black marker.
Sadie followed close behind, and I half expected her to demand I put it back and let her do it herself. Instead, she stacked two of the smaller boxes on top like she was proving a point and marched across the yard, leaving me to stare at her arse in those shorts.
Fuck. What had I gotten myself into?
We hauled all the boxes into my living room, and by the time we’d dragged the small round dining table in there as well, Sadie was flushed and out of breath. She stood with her hands on her hips, staring at me like she might’ve wanted a break, but hell if she was going to be the one to suggest it .
She finally dropped into the two-seater, rubbing her hands over her thighs.
I couldn’t tell if she was wiping away the dirt or just keeping her hands busy.
I’d never seen her sit still for so long.
But I didn’t miss the way she kept sneaking glances at the staircase, like she was waiting for a ghost to come down those stairs and remind her this wasn’t real.
Like she was waiting for Logan.
Sometimes I thought I could still smell the scent of his cologne. Now the room smelled faintly of dust and something sweeter—maybe her perfume, maybe memory.
“You okay?” I said, giving her a tight smile, but it felt more like a grimace.
She nodded, her teeth lodged into her bottom lip. She wasn’t really okay, not by the way she kept shifting on the seat, her knee bouncing up and down.
It took everything inside me not to go to her. No-one would blame her if it was too hard. But Sadie and hard were old friends, and I knew she wouldn’t take the out, even if I offered her one.
“I’m fine,” she muttered, even though she hadn’t convinced either of us.
I dropped into the single seater, the springs creaking under my weight. I’d never replaced anything in this joint, preferring the comforts of old memories than making new ones. Still, maybe it was time for a change.
“You don’t have to pretend, Sades. Not here,” I said, giving a half-shrug.
She didn’t answer at first, just stared out the window as though she hadn’t heard me at all. What surprised me the most was the fact she didn’t tell me to mind my own business. Or to piss off.
Then, like it pained her, she glanced back at me with glassy eyes, and an expression so raw it could’ve knocked the air from my lungs if I wasn’t already sinking into the weight of it. It was a hurt that ran deeper than I’d ever seen.
“Does it get easier?” she whispered, her bottom lip trembling.
It didn’t take a fucking genius to know what she meant. She was talking about Logan, about the way it felt stepping back into the life she’d ran from.
But to admit that it got easier would have been a lie, and I couldn’t do that to her, not if I wanted her to stick around. Not if I had any hope of getting her back.
She needed to trust me again, so I said the only thing that made sense. “It gets . . . less painful, I guess. Instead of a stabbing sensation in your chest, it turns into a dull ache, always there, always waiting for the next thing to take you down. But it’s bearable . . . most of the time.”
Her head dipped, her fingers trembling as she swiped at her cheeks.
My chest tightened, my fists clenching and unclenching against my thighs.
How she’d made it through the storm without a single person to help her was beyond me.
She still hadn’t opened up about why she’d shown up here with bruises on her face.
But that was for another conversation, one that deserved my full attention.
My instinct was to cross the room, to pull her into my arms, to hold on like we hadn’t lost six years and half a lifetime of trust. All I wanted to do was tell her she didn’t have to pretend. To tell her she was safe here. With me.
Only, that wasn’t true either. Not with the shit going on with the club. Not with Snake slithering around her like his namesake. And definitely not with the way she unravelled me so fast I barely had time to notice or pull myself together.
I wasn’t going to be the reason she ran again. It occurred to me that maybe she wasn’t back to ruin me. Maybe she was back to save me. Save herself .
A knock at the door interrupted the silence. I stalked across the room and grabbed hold of the door handle, eyes still on Sadie. The heavy front door groaned on its hinges as I swung it open, a familiar sound I usually ignored—until now.
We still had unresolved conversations that needed to be addressed, but for now they’d stay just out of reach.
Scout shifted from foot to foot, Bear beside him, arms crossed, a grim expression on his face. His gaze landed on Sadie, and the tension in his shoulders lessened slightly.
“You’re early,” I said, stepping back.
Perfect fucking timing. They had no idea how close I was to saying something I couldn’t take back.
Scout shoved inside first, bouncing on his toes the same way I had the first time my old man let me sit on his Harley. He glanced from me to Sadie, a knowing smirk on his face. His immaturity was showing. And I wasn’t the only one who caught it.
Bear shook his head as he entered. “As useless as tits on a bull, that one,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Everything good, bro?”
I sighed. “Peachy.”
“Hey Sadie,” Scout said, grinning down at her like he was already on top of the world. “Thought we’d come a little earlier, if that’s okay.”
Sadie smiled up at him, a genuine smile, not the forced shit she usually gave me. That hit harder than I wanted to admit. If Scout was good at one thing, it was easing tension in a room. And this room was about as tense as a virgin arsehole.
“Jasmine is on her way,” Sadie said, her grin widening as she wiggled her eyebrows.
Just like her to stir shit up. My focus stayed locked on her. Even after everything, she still fucking lit up the room like she was the only thing worth looking at .
Scout’s accusing eyes darted straight for me, attempting to pull the trigger with thought alone. “You told her? How could you, VP?”
I held my hands up, scoffing. “You’re not a kid anymore, Jesse. Stop acting like it.”
Sadie’s eyebrows shot up, and she poked Scout in the stomach like they were old friends. “That’s your first name? Jesse. I like it.”
“Oh yeah?” A slow grin replaced his scowl. The kid was so full of himself, I was surprised he hadn’t spontaneously combusted by that point. He dropped onto the floor beside Sadie’s legs, forearms resting on his knees. “Is Jasmine really coming?”
Sadie laughed, the sound as familiar as the back of my hand. For the first time since she’d walked through the door, she didn’t look like she wanted to bolt. “Would I lie to you, Scout? She should be here any?—”
“What have I missed?” Jasmine’s voice filtered through the open doorway, and Sadie’s grin widened.
I stood there, looking as pathetic as ever—nothing like the vice president of an outlaw motorcycle club. I couldn’t take my eyes off Sadie, and I still wasn’t sure if it was because seeing her like this was a relief, or if it was going to kill me slowly. Either way, it was going to be painful.
The door creaked in the warm breeze, the boxes stacked against the wall like Sadie was moving in instead of plotting God-knows-what.
Jasmine breezed past me, hips swaying, perfume trailing behind her, oversized sunglasses perched like a crown. She owned the room before she even stepped fully into it.
She dropped onto the couch beside Sadie, her hand finding Scout’s head, her fingers tangling in his mop of blond hair. “Miss me?”
Scout’s eyes widened, and his lips parted but no words came out. He just nodded.
For Christ’s sake.
He adjusted his cut, then ran a hand through his hair so fast he almost tore it out. I couldn’t exactly blame him. Jasmine was a looker, she just wasn’t my type. My type was sitting right there next to her—ignoring me.
“Let’s get on with it then,” I muttered, already regretting this circus. I rubbed at my forehead. “But first, I need a beer. Anyone else?”