58. Chapter 58
I text Imogen once I make it back to the bus and she shows up like a force of nature.
I’m barefoot, still half-unpacked emotionally and very unpacked physically, when she pounds her fist off my door.
“You alive in there?” She yelps as she barrels in. “Because if you’re not, I’m kicking this thing over.”
I unlock the door and barely get it open before she’s inside, eyes sweeping over me in a rapid, ruthless scan. She goes as far as to grab my face with both hands, tilting it left and right like she’s checking for cracks.
“You look… uh, intact?” She mutters.
“That depends on your definition,” I squeak.
She drops her hands but doesn’t relax. I’m starting to think that Imogen never really relaxes though. Not fully at least when it comes to me.
“You disappeared again and before you say it—yes, I know, you warned me, you needed space, blah blah. But you don’t get to vanish off the face of the earth and then act surprised when I show up ready to commit manslaughter.”
Oof, too soon.
“I’m okay, I swear.” I sigh and gesture for her to sit. To take a serious fucking chill pill.
Her eyes narrow. “You’re using your calm voice. That’s never good.”
Right, no easing into this.
“I may be getting married.”
The words hit the air and just sit there, because all Imogen does is blink.
“Okay, run that by me again.” She says slowly.
“I’m serious.”
Her jaw drops like the strings to the damn thing have been cut. “Nope, you’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
She stares at me, searching my face like the punchline is hidden somewhere in my expression. When she doesn’t find it, her voice goes very quiet.
“Sadie.”
“I know,” I say quickly. “I know how it sounds.”
“No,” she snaps. “You don’t, because what it sounds like is that the man who kidnapped you, traumatized half the city, and lives somewhere between ‘morally bankrupt’ and ‘actively homicidal’ just proposed to you and you—what? You said yes?”
“Well, I haven’t yet.”
Her mouth opens then snaps shut again.
“…yet.”
“I’m going to,” I whisper.
The silence that follows is suffocating. Imogen slowly sets her purse down on the bench before sitting herself down there herself. When she looks at me again, her eyes are bright with a fear she’s barely holding back.
“Tell me that you’re not doing this because you think this is what you deserve.”
Damn—that one hurts.
“That’s not it,” I say and mean it.
“Then explain to me, because from where I’m standing, this looks like every bad cycle you’ve ever been trapped in, wearing a better suit.” She demands.
I lean back against the counter, fingers digging into the edge. “He didn’t trap me.”
“He literally kidnapped you, but okay.” She mutters sarcastically.
“I left and came back.” I whisper, there’s no way of putting that cat back in the bag on that one.
“Choice doesn’t exist in a vacuum, Sadie.” She whispers.
“I know, okay? I know, but this isn’t that.” I snap back.
“Then what is it?”
How do you explain loving someone like Alex without sounding unhinged?
“He sees me. All of it. The ugly parts and the parts I don’t show anyone. And he doesn’t try to sand them down or tell me they’re wrong.”
“That doesn’t make him good.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
“Sadie—”
“And I’m not good either,” I cut in. “Not in the way you want me to be. Not clean and certainly not safe.”
She flinches.
“I’ve always had teeth and I’ve just been pretending they weren’t there because it made other people more comfortable. He didn’t give them to me, Imogen. He just… he didn’t make me feel like I had to hide them.” I continue, voice shaking now.
She stares at me like she’s trying to reconcile two versions of me; the one she’s protected for years, and the one standing in front of her now.
“You’re in love with him, and I get that, but Sadie—”
“There is no but, Imogen. There is only that.” I huff.
Her shoulders slump a fraction, like the fight drains out of her all at once.
“Fuck,” she whispers.
“I know.”
She groans, dragging a hand down her face and lets out a shaky laugh. “You know what the worst part is?”
“What?”
“You don’t even have the right mind to look scared.”
I swallow and shrug. “I was. I am. But not of him.”
“Yeah, because that makes it alright.”
“Maybe it doesn’t, but it’s also true.” I explain and sit down across from her, reaching out to clasp her hands where they are in her lap.
“Does he control you?” She whispers.
“No.”
“Does he isolate you?”
“Not… exactly.”
“Does he hurt you?”
I meet her eyes. “Not without my consent.”
That earns me a dark look. “First off, gross. Second, you’re not reassuring me here.”
“I know,” I groan. “But he… he’s it for me, Imogen.”
She exhales slowly, then pulls me into a hug so tight it knocks the air from my lungs.
“I hate this and I hate I can’t fix it.” She mutters into my hair.
“I don’t need fixing,” I whisper back.
She pulls away then, holding my shoulders with a set of deeply fierce eyes. “You need protecting.”
“I’ve got that covered,” I muse softly.
“You’re batshit, Sadie.”
I snort. “Oh, I’m deeply aware.”
She shakes her head, lips twitching despite herself. “Fine, but you have to promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“If this ever turns into something you can’t handle—if you feel like you’re drowning—you come to me. No matter what.” She says with conviction.
“I promise.”
She squeezes my shoulders one last time. “Then, I’ll be here. Even if I don’t like it.”
I smile, emotion clogging my throat. “Thank you.”
She groans again and moves to grab her purse again. “When’s the wedding?”
I bark a laugh and shake my head. “I’m not sure if there will be one.”
Her curse follows her out the door, my hand gripping the frame as I smile after her.
“I love you, Imogen!” I shout.
“Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the press!” She barks, waving over her shoulder.
Grinning, I step back into the bus and close the door behind her. The future stretching wide and terrifying and entirely mine.