Chapter 30
SADIE
The first thing I notice when my eyes gather up enough strength to open is that Milo’s bed is empty. The second is the white coffee cup with something scribbled on it on the nightstand. I blink, clearing the lingering sleep.
Lavender Honey Latte.
I’ve never had one. I sit up slowly, arching my chest and feeling the stretch in my back. I grab the latte and take a sip, the sweetened espresso blossoming on my tongue.
The bathroom door opens, steam billowing out. I watch as Milo comes into view, towel wrapped around his waist, soaked hair sending droplets down his back as he focuses on putting a strip of toothpaste on his toothbrush.
I watch intently, drinking my coffee, feeling comfort radiate throughout me.
I want to stay in this moment, focusing on the man oblivious to my gaze.
Focusing on who he is now, on the fact that he’s here in this room with me.
But I can’t help it—my mind drifts to a place I go often, where worries take on water and I drown in them.
When Milo left Dusty Hollow, I let him go.
And yet, I had to swallow down the bile of jealousy with a well-practiced smile every time I heard a rumored whisper of his name entwined with a new girl.
He’d told me not all of them were real—it’s not uncommon for gossip to go awry and wrong—but what other women had held his hand or kissed his lips or melted beneath his warm smile?
I knew him as a boy. Who else has known him as this man?
I’m beginning to sink beneath the slippery surface of these thoughts when Milo turns, his face lighting up. “Oh, hey. I see you found your coffee.”
The worries loosen their grip, and I finally breathe. “It’s good.”
He walks to the end of my bed. “I had the barista choose. I wasn’t sure what you’re drinking now.”
“Thanks.” I tip the cup toward him. “I can now mark this flavor off the list.”
We both smile, knowing coffee isn’t on the list but that the list binds us in a way.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asks.
I nod. “You?”
“Yeah.”
Thick silence follows. I fidget with the now-empty cup in my hands, looking at it instead of Milo still in his towel.
A sharp sound breaks the tension—Milo’s phone. He hurries to the dresser where it’s lying and answers.
“Hello.” There’s a long pause. “Yeah, she’s with me.” Another pause as I feel the overwhelming sense of dread drape its familiar heaviness upon my shoulders. “I’ll tell her.” He hangs up and turns to me. “Have you checked your phone?”
I pull the sheets from me, hurrying across the room to my purse, where I tucked away my phone right after I turned it off yesterday morning. I’m not sure I’ve ever turned it off before. I’ve always remained available to everyone but myself.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, my voice breathy.
His hands gently wrap around my arms from behind before he rubs the rush of anxiety that has bubbled on my skin. “Everything is fine. I think they’re more worried about you.”
“Who was it?” I ask quietly, watching as my phone’s screen lights up in my hand, going through the list of who it could be.
It’s Saturday morning. But Joe would know I’m with Milo and my parents knew I was going on a trip. It could be Lacey at the coffee shop or Patty, unhappy that she found sheet music and a note from me asking her to fill in as pianist Sunday morning or . . .
Grant.
Grant, who said he doesn’t care if I spend time with Milo but doesn’t like to be surprised.
“Ginny,” he answers.
My eyes round in shock as I turn to face Milo. “Are you serious?”
He nods.
“What have you done?” I ask in horror.
His brows bunch together. “What do you mean?”
“Ginny is the upcoming Patty McGee,” I answer.
He tilts his head, clearly not following.
“She lives for drama,” I explain further.
“Sadie, I don’t care if Ginny knows you’re with me.”
“But I do!” The words land fast and hard, and unfortunately too true.
I don’t want to care. I want to do what Sophie said. Say yes to what I want to and no to what I don’t. Allow people to judge if they want to but make my own decisions.
Milo’s blue eyes soften. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just didn’t want others to think you weren’t safe. Everyone’s been texting you.”
I glance at my phone still in my hands. Fifty-seven notifications.
This is ridiculous. Can no one else take care of these things? Isn’t anyone worried about what I want? What I need?
My grip around my phone tightens.
“Do we need to go back?” he asks softly. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
Something stiffens through my spine. Resolve. Strength. Maybe even gumption.
Do it for the plot, Sadie Summers. Your plot. This is your life, I say to myself in my head.
“No,” I answer firmly.
“No?” Milo repeats the word much softer.
“No,” I say again with clarity. “I’m not going back just because they think they need me.”
I don’t look up at Milo. I open the texts, replying to each one with a new energy pulsing through my veins—an energy I haven’t felt for years.
No, I can’t set up a meal train for the Hendersons. Ask Rhonda Thomas.
No, I don’t know what day your community garden day is. Check the schedule.
No, I can’t help with bathing the cats at the shelter next Saturday. Text Ginny. She loves things with claws.
I ignore the group text with my sisters. Sophie is probably just wanting an update on whether I’ve kissed Milo yet, which brings me to the last text . . .
Grant’s.
Grant
Hey. Heard you’ve gone out of town. Will you be back Sunday for sunset and soda floats?
My thumb hovers for a few seconds before I take a deep breath.
Sadie
Hey, Grant. I’ll miss Sunday. I’m doing something for myself. Finally found that courage you talked about. I hope you’ll understand.
I send the text before I type out something else.
Sadie
I’m with Milo. You said you don’t like surprises.
I watch as the text moves slightly when read appears underneath. The dots don’t dance with a chance of a reply. My words seem to thicken, turning bold.
I’m with Milo.
Because when my world began to feel small, I ran to him.
I finally look up, and there’s a warm grin pressed deep against Milo’s cheeks.
“What?” I ask with a huff of a laugh.
“Hi, Sadie,” he says tenderly. “Ready to feel the sand between your toes?”
I smile, something like carbonation fizzing in my veins. “Let’s go.”
Then I turn off my phone again because how can I develop the main character in my own story if I keep letting the side characters distract me?