Forty
Sadie
I wake to Beckett’s hand trailing slow circles across my hip. His breath is warm against my shoulder, his chest pressed along my back, and it takes all of two seconds for me to melt completely.
There are no words. Just heat and skin and quiet need that builds with every brush of his fingers.
He kisses the back of my neck, and I turn to face him, threading my hands into his hair as he pulls me closer.
Everything feels right. Like we fit. Like there’s nowhere else either of us is meant to be.
His touch ignites a fire as he leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “You okay?” he whispers, concern flickering behind his smoldering gaze like a soft glow.
I nod, though a part of me wonders if I really am. The thrill of our connection is undeniable, yet shadows hang over me, remnan ts of betrayal and fear. But I can’t let that overshadow the future. Not when Beckett makes me feel alive in ways I thought were lost.
“Sadie,” he murmurs again, and there’s an intensity in his voice that pulls me back to him. My heart swells as I take in the contours of his face, the way his jawline sharpens in the low light of the room.
Each kiss deepens our connection, igniting warmth that chases away the cold remnants of my past. Beckett’s hands roam, mapping every curve and contour as though he were committing me to memory.
As he positions himself above me, our eyes lock, and I feel the world outside fade into nothingness. Every inch of him feels like a promise fulfilled, a fantasy I never dared dream would come true. His lips find mine again, soft yet insistent, coaxing me into a rhythm.
Beckett takes his time, savoring each moment as if we have all the hours in the world.
He moves slowly, deliberately, letting intensity build between us, our breaths mingling in the air.
I arch against him, eager for more, craving the way he fills me, a sensation that eclipses every doubt lingering in my mind.
He shifts his weight, and I gasp at the delicious friction between us.
My body rises to meet him as we move in sync.
With each thrust, Beckett gazes into my eyes, searching for permission, for understanding, like he knows this isn’t just about desire but about healing too.
And despite everything, the way he holds me makes me feel safe. Completely seen.
When it’s over, we lie tangled in the sheets, limbs wrapped together, hearts pounding. We stay like that for most of the morning and into the afternoon, making coffee, sharing leftovers, reading bits of the news aloud. It’s easy. Like we’ve done this a hundred times before.
Toward the end of the day, I slip out to the porch and call Caleb.
He picks up on the first ring. “Hey, S adie. What’s going on?”
“I just wanted to check in,” I tell him, drawing my legs up. “Let you know I’ve moved back in with Beckett.”
Silence. “If he hasn’t treated you right, I swear to God, I’ll be on the next flight out to kill him.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “He’s treated me better than I thought I deserved.”
“You deserve everything,” Caleb growls.
“He’s nothing like anyone I’ve dated. He’s…very good for me.”
“Yeah?”
I smile. “To put it simply, he loves me for who I am.”
There’s a beat of silence. “You deserve that and more. I’m sorry I disappeared after Mom and Dad died. I—”
“Caleb, you were hurting too. I know that. We’re okay.”
“So…when are you coming to visit?” he asks, his voice warmer.
“Soon,” I say. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too. And just so we’re clear—no eloping. If you’re getting married, I’m going to be there. Tux and all.”
I snort. “We are so far away from that.”
Caleb chuckles. “Maybe. But I’ve known Beckett since he was three, and I’ve never heard him talk about a girl like this.”
I hang up a minute later and just sit there, laughing to myself. Marriage? Caleb is way, way ahead of himself.
Then Beckett appears with a cappuccino in hand and a stupidly proud grin on his face. “There’s a heart in the foam,” he says, holding it out like it’s a piece of art.
I look down. Sure enough—a perfect heart. “You trying to impress me?” I tease.
“It working?”
I take a sip and smile. “A little.”
“The pool’s perfect right now,” he says. “Want to jump in before it gets too hot?”
“There’s no such thing,” I tell him.
He lifts a brow. “Are you going to argue with everyt hing I say?”
I give him a cheeky grin. “Only when you’re wrong, which is all the time.”
His mouth crashes onto mine, and I yelp as he lifts me right out of my seat.
“Beckett! My phone—!”
It clatters to the deck as he carries me, laughing and squirming, toward the pool. One giant step and we’re airborne.
We hit the water in a splash that drenches the pool deck. My sundress clings to my skin, and I come up sputtering and gasping between laughter and outrage.
“I was going to wear this to dinner at your parents’ tonight!”
“There’s plenty of time for it to dry,” he says with a shrug. “Besides, I kind of like the idea of skinny dipping.”
I push my wet hair out of my face. “There are way too many eyes for that.”
“Not out here.”
“Maybe not,” I say, climbing out. “But the police are parked in the front yard. And there’s someone stationed in the back.” Nonetheless, I peel off the soaked dress and hang it on a chair in the sun. And just to spite him, I strut across the deck completely naked.
He’s still in the water, watching me with that open-mouthed, half-awestruck stare that makes me feel powerful.
Until someone behind me clears his throat.
“Miss Calloway,” an officer says, stepping onto the patio and averting his eyes. “Apologies. We didn’t mean to startle you. Alex and Simon appear to be headed this way. We need you both to go inside.”
I blink. “Okay. Sure. No problem.”
Beckett is already out of the pool, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around me. His fingers graze my hip, and he leans close, his voice low. “Still think there’s no such thing as too hot?”
“Shut up,” I mutter, blushing, and let him lead me inside.
And just like that, the quiet safety of the day cracks open.
By the time I finish putting on dry clothes and twisting my wet ha ir into a ponytail, Beckett and Elijah are in the living room, standing by the front windows. They’re talking in low voices, serious and focused. Elijah’s arms are crossed, and Beckett’s jaw is tight.
I step into the room, trying to stay calm, but the energy in the air is electric, like we’re standing on the edge of a storm.
Beckett turns the second he sees me and crosses the room in a few quick strides, cupping my face with both hands.
“You’re going to do great,” he says.
“What am I going to do?” I ask. My stomach is doing somersaults.
I move to the window and glance outside.
Two figures are approaching from the lake path, taking their time, heads down, like they’re just out for a stroll.
But I know better. One of them is Alex. I can tell by the way he moves, casual but coiled tight, like he’s five seconds away from snapping.
“They’re coming from the lake,” I say, voice barely above a whisper.
Elijah joins me at the window, his tone clipped. “We’ve got eyes on the property line. Officers in plain clothes, unmarked cars. You won’t be alone.”
He turns slightly, speaking just to me now. “We’ve got someone on the inside. The guy in Calgary’s getting desperate. There’s been pressure on Alex and Simon to deliver. They need that jump drive.”
My mouth goes dry.
Elijah’s radio crackles softly. He steps away, pressing the button to listen. He nods once, then looks back at me, all business.
“They’re here.”
He strides toward the kitchen but pauses at the threshold. “Sadie,” he says. “Just do what they say. Don’t challenge them. Don’t push. As soon as they ask for the drive, that’s our signal. We’ll take care of the rest.”
I stare at him, frozen for a second. “What if they—”
“You’re safe,” he says, firm and final. “I swear, we’re not going to let anything happen to you.”
Beckett takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You’ve got this. ”
I nod again, though I’m still not sure. My heart is pounding. My palms are damp. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to run.
But I don’t.
Because this ends now.
And I’m not the scared girl who left in the middle of the night anymore.
Everyone disappears, leaving me in the hallway. After a moment, the house feels different. I feel it in my bones. The air changes, growing heavier, tighter, like the whole house is holding its breath. I turn around slowly, and there they are.
Alex and Simon. Standing in Beckett’s living room.
How did they get in? My blood runs cold.
Alex’s eyes find mine, dark and unreadable. Simon stands just behind him, arms crossed, lips curled in a sneer. They don’t look angry. They look calm. And that’s worse.
“You were sleeping with him before you left, weren’t you?” Alex asks.
“No,” I say, my voice steady even though my heart is thrashing inside my chest. “I wasn’t.”
“Really?” he presses. “You just happened to shack up with Rosie’s doctor?”
“I came here because Beckett is Caleb’s best friend,” I tell him. “I needed a place to stay for a while.”
Alex’s jaw ticks. “You took something when you left.”
“Like I’ve told you, I took the things that were mine,” I reply, placing a chair between us. My hands are shaking, but I curl them into fists and plant my feet. Just keep them talking.
Simon’s eyes narrow. “Bullshit. You know exactly what you took.”
“I don’t,” I say. “I packed clothes. A few of my art supplies. That’s it.”
Simon storms forward. Before I can move, his hand snaps across my face.
The pain is blinding. My cheek stings, hot and sharp, and for a second, I can’t breathe.
“What the hell do you want?” I gasp, forcin g the words out.
I grip the chair in front of me to stay upright and nod toward the coffee table, where a folded pair of jeans rests. “Those are yours. That’s all I have.”
Alex steps over and rifles through them. His hands plunge into both pockets. He pulls them inside out, shakes them.
“Nothing,” he mutters, turning to Simon. “They’re empty.”
“What are you looking for?” I ask, hoping I sound more irritated than afraid.
Alex turns back to me, eyes flat. “The jump drive. We want the drive.”
I blink slowly. Let the silence stretch. Then I furrow my brow. “Oh,” I say, lifting my chin. “That? I gave it to the police.”
A beat of silence.
Then chaos.
The front door bursts open. Officers pour into the room from every direction, guns drawn, voices raised. It’s like the entire Paradise police department materializes at once. Jonas, Elijah, and a half dozen others swarm.
Simon doesn’t even have time to turn around before he’s tackled to the ground, his arms wrenched behind his back. Alex shouts something I don’t understand, but he’s down a second later, cuffed and face-first on the hardwood.
I stumble back, heart hammering, one hand still pressed to my cheek.
Beckett hugs me and removes my hand to look at my face where Simon slapped me.
“I’m okay,” I assure him.
Jonas glances at me as he reads Simon his rights. “You good?”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”
Elijah crosses the room and urges me back. “It’s over,” he says. “You did everything right.”
I look at the two men who once held power over me now sprawled on the floor in handcuffs and feel the most unexpected thing of all—freedom—real, trembling, gut-deep .
Alex is still shouting, even as he’s pinned to the floor. “You stupid bitch! You have no idea what you’ve done! You think this ends here? You don’t know the hell you’ve just brought down on yourself and everyone you care about!”
The words hit like bullets, but they don’t sink in. Not this time.
Beckett moves before I can react, shielding me from Alex’s venom. His arms wrap around me. I feel his heartbeat against my cheek, steady and strong. “That’s enough,” he says, voice cold. “You should be worried about yourself.”
Alex snarls, but the officers tighten their grip on him. Simon tries to twist around, but Elijah presses a knee to his back.
“You can scream all you want,” Elijah says calmly. “But here’s the truth. You’re done. We’ve got enough evidence to bury you both. And even if you cooperate with Calgary and the federal police, you’re still looking at serious time.”
Simon swears under his breath. Alex stops yelling, but the hatred in his eyes is worse than anything he could say. I hold Beckett tighter and don’t look away.
Let him see. I’m not afraid. Not anymore.
The weight I’ve been dragging around for months—the fear, the secrets, the shame—it finally lifts. My lungs expand, and I can actually breathe again. My legs are still trembling, but it’s from adrenaline now, not helplessness.
I glance up at Beckett. “You’re safe now,” he whispers. “They can’t touch you.”
And for the first time since I walked out Alex’s front door, I know he’s right.