16. Sadie
Sadie
I wake slowly, the sheets still warm from the night before, tangled around my legs, and the spot beside me is empty but the pillow still holds the shape of Jace's head.
My body feels pleasantly sore in the best way, a reminder of last night.
Every single second of it. How he held me close, and I swear I never wanted to let him go.
I stretch, the cotton sheets sliding against my bare skin, and listen. Somewhere in the kitchen there’s the soft clink of dishes and the sound of Jace moving around. He’s already awake. Making breakfast, from the sounds. The faint sizzle of something on the stove. The scrape of a spatula.
Last night changed everything. Or maybe it made everything real.
The sex had been passionate and intense, but it was the way he held me afterward, the way he had opened up about wanting me in whatever comes next, that has me lying here with my chest feeling too full.
I really like him. And now we’re driving to meet his mother today.
The thought makes something flutter nervously in my stomach, but there’s excitement underneath it too.
This is real. This is us getting to know each other beyond the pretense.
I slip out of bed and pull on one of his shirts from the floor.
It’s soft and worn, the fabric brushing against my thighs as I pad down the short hall toward the kitchen.
The safe house feels brighter this morning, the afternoon light from yesterday replaced by clear morning sun streaming through the windows.
The ocean is visible through the glass doors, blue and sparkling, the sound of it a constant gentle rhythm.
Jace is at the stove, shirtless, low-slung jeans riding on his hips.
His back is to me, muscles shifting under tanned skin as he flips something in a pan.
The sight of him like this, domestic and relaxed after last night, makes my heart do something complicated.
He turns when he hears me, that charming grin already in place, eyes warm as they travel down the shirt I’m wearing and back up to my face.
"Morning, Wells," he says, voice still a little rough from sleep. "Hope you’re hungry. I made eggs and toast. Nothing fancy, but it’ll hold us until we get on the road."
I lean against the counter, watching him. "After breakfast we’ll head to your mother's?"
He nods, plating the food with easy movements. "Yeah. Gives us time to get ready and load up the Jeep. It’s only a couple hours up the coast. We can take it slow, enjoy the drive."
I smile, unable to resist the opening. "Already bringing me home to meet your mother. That escalated quickly."
Jace laughs, the sound rich and warm, and sets the plates on the small table.
He steps closer, one hand sliding to my waist as he leans in.
His lips brush mine in a soft, lingering kiss that tastes of coffee, morning, and a comfort I’m not ready to name.
When he pulls back he’s still smiling, eyes bright with that mix of charm and something deeper.
"Abso-fucking-lutely," he says, the words playful but sincere. "I’m not complaining."
We eat at the small table by the window, the morning sun warm on our skin.
The eggs are simple but good, fluffy and seasoned right, the toast crisp.
I take a bite and watch him across the table.
He looks lighter this morning, the tension from seeing his father yesterday eased by the night we shared.
Or maybe it’s being here with me. The thought makes me bold.
"So," I say, spearing another bite of egg. "Last night was..."
"Amazing," he finishes for me, grinning around a mouthful of toast. "Mind-blowing. The kind of night that makes a man want to cancel all his plans and stay in bed with a certain serious teacher who looks unfairly good in his shirt."
I roll my eyes but can’t stop the flush that creeps up my neck. "You’re impossible. And charming. It’s annoying how well that combination works on me."
He reaches across the table and takes my hand, thumb brushing over my knuckles. "It works because it’s real. Last night wasn’t about a distraction or blowing off steam after seeing my father. It was about you. About us. I meant what I said. I want you in whatever comes next."
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest tighten in the best way. I squeeze his hand. "I want that too. Even if it scares me a little."
We finish breakfast in a comfortable silence, the sound of waves and the occasional clink of forks filling the space.
When we’re done I stand to clear the plates, but Jace pulls me into his lap instead, arms wrapping around my waist. I laugh and settle against him, the warmth of his bare chest seeping through the shirt I’m wearing.
"Shower first or packing first?" he asks, nuzzling into my neck.
"Shower," I decide. "Together. To save time."
His laugh is deep and promising. "I like the way you think."
The shower’s quick but not without its moments.
The warm water cascades over us, his hands soaping my back, mine tracing the lines of his chest. We kiss under the spray, slow and unhurried, the steam wrapping around us.
It’s domestic and intimate and exactly what I didn’t know I needed.
By the time we’re dressed and loading the Jeep, the sun is higher and the day feels full of possibility.
The drive along the coast is beautiful. Jace puts the top down on the Jeep and the wind whips through my hair, cool and fresh against my skin.
The ocean stretches out beside us, blue and endless, waves sparkling in the sunlight.
We pass small towns and stretches of beach, the candy-striped lighthouse fading behind us as we head north.
I lean back in my seat, one hand resting on his thigh, and let the scenery wash over me.
The feel of the sun on my face. The sound of the wind and the tires on the road. The occasional call of a gull overhead.
After a while I turn to him. "Tell me about growing up with so many brothers. It must have been chaos."
Jace glances over with a grin, his hand covering mine on his leg.
"Chaos is an understatement. There were seven of us.
Dad was gone a lot for work, so Mom ran the house like a general.
We were always getting into trouble. Colt and Sin were the worst. They once tried to build a zip line between the trees in the backyard using old rope and a skateboard.
Colt ended up with a broken arm and Sin with a black eye from the landing. "
I laugh, the sound carried away by the wind. "That sounds like something Anniston would have talked me into. She was always the adventurous one. I was the responsible one who tried to talk her out of it and then ended up going along anyway."
He squeezes my hand. "Tell me about her. About you two growing up."
I look out at the ocean, the memories surfacing easily.
"Anniston is three years younger but she’s always been the bold one.
When we were kids she would drag me on these grand adventures.
Sneaking into the neighbor's pool at night. Building a fort in the woods behind our house that collapsed the first time it rained. She got us both grounded more times than I can count. But she’s also the one who held my hand when our parents fought.
The one who made me laugh when I was too serious.
She’s the reason I became a teacher, actually.
She always said I was good at explaining things, at making people feel safe.
I wanted to do that for kids who needed it. "
Jace is quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "She sounds powerful. I can see why you’re worried about her. Family has a way of pulling you in even when you think you have boundaries."
I nod, turning to look at him. The sun catches in his hair and highlights the strong line of his jaw. "What about you and your brothers? Besides the zip line disasters. What was it like?"
He laughs softly. "Loud. Competitive. Loyal as hell. Dad taught us to be tough, to protect what’s ours.
Mom taught us to be kind, to laugh even when things were hard.
After he disappeared it got harder. We all dealt with it differently.
Sin threw himself into work. Colt traveled more.
Banks got quieter. Mack started digging into every lead he could find.
Nash and Crewe went right into the military.
I tried to keep things light. Someone had to. "
The conversation flows easily after that.
We talk about small things. Favorite memories from childhood.
The worst jobs we ever had. The books we loved as kids.
The way the wind feels different here by the ocean compared to inland.
I tell him about my first year teaching, the way one student had changed everything for me.
He tells me about the first time he was deployed overseas.
The stories are not all heavy. There’s laughter too.
The time his brothers tried to teach him to cook and nearly burned down the kitchen.
The time Anniston and I tried to dye our hair with Kool-Aid and ended up with pink streaks for weeks.
The hours pass quickly. Small towns give way to longer stretches of beach and dunes.
The sun climbs higher, warming the leather seats of the Jeep.
I keep my hand on his thigh and he keeps glancing over at me with that smile that makes my stomach flip.
It feels easy. Natural. Like we’ve been doing this for years instead of days.
The pretense from the beginning has melted away completely. This is us. Getting to know each other.
By the time we turn off the main road and head toward a smaller coastal town, the sun is past its peak.
The houses here are smaller, quaint, with flower boxes and porches that face the water.
Jace slows the Jeep as we approach a modest two-story home with white siding and a blue door. A small garden lines the front walk.
He parks in the driveway and turns off the engine. For a moment we sit there, the wind dying down around us. Jace looks at the house, his expression softening in a way I haven’t seen before. There’s love there. And maybe a little nervousness too.
"This is it," he says quietly. "My mother's place. She moved here a few years ago. Said she needed the ocean and the quiet."
I squeeze his hand. "It looks nice. Peaceful."
He turns to me, that charming grin returning. "Ready to meet the woman who raised seven hellions?"
I laugh and lean over to kiss his cheek. "As ready as I’ll ever be. Lead the way."
We climb out of the Jeep together. The air’s warmer here, the sun bright on the white siding of the house.
Jace takes my hand as we walk up the short path to the front door.
His palm is warm and steady against mine.
I can feel the slight tension in his shoulders, how he’s bracing himself for whatever this visit might bring.
Answers about his father. Or more questions. Or nothing at all.
But as we reach the porch and he raises his hand to knock, I realize I’m not nervous anymore. Not really. Whatever happens inside that house, whatever we learn about Victor or the past, we’re in this together now.