Chapter 34
MILO
One pina colada turns into four, and it’s obvious that Sadie Summers has never had alcohol. It’s also obvious that the guy at the bar thinks he’s hit an easy target, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
Before the haze of pineapple and rum began to wash over Sadie, something had broken from within her.
She was more heart than flesh, her brown eyes brightly reflecting the lights in this dimly lit bar.
Her movements started small, but they grew as if she was grasping at this moment with every vibration of her being. My chest tightened.
She’s just finished the last line of “Life is a Highway” by Rascal Flatts, and she laughs wholly, the joy rippling from her into the room.
“Another!” she screams.
The crowd claps, laughing in response to her own giggles and excitement.
Brandon, the guy with the clipboard, looks at her with a grin. “What do you want next?”
And that’s when Sadie’s eyes find mine. “A duet!”
The blood in my veins stops its flow. I do not sing. Ever.
“C’mon, Milo!” she screams as she puckers out her lower lip. “Please!”
How can I say no to this woman after I’ve hoped she would say yes to me?
“What do you want to sing, Sadie?” I ask as I step closer to the stage.
“Our song.”
Brandon overhears her. “Taylor Swift? On it.”
“No.” I put my hand up to stop him. “That’s not our song.”
His eyes widen as he realizes what she means.
I tell Brandon, “‘When You Say Nothing at All,’” and the song title wrings my heart out like a drenched towel.
“Alison Krauss and Union Station?” Brandon says.
I nod before I walk up the steps to join Sadie.
She throws her arms around me, squealing, and then very loudly in the microphone says, “My high school sweetheart, everyone! Then he left me to play professional football because duh. Professional. Football. He looks like a football player, right?” Her words are slurred, and her eyes heavy.
I wince. Alcohol is apparently a truth serum for Sadie, a truth serum with major consequences since I’m sure she won’t remember half of what she is saying tomorrow.
I pull Sadie from the mic, nodding to Brandon with my eyebrows raised, hoping he’ll get the music going quickly. This will be Sadie’s last song tonight.
The speakers come to life, the familiar song drifting through the room. Sadie starts, stumbling over parts of the lyrics until I join her and become the anchor to her floating. I watch her, not the people in the bar.
She grabs my hand when the lyrics fade into instrumental, placing my arm around her waist as she steps into me. She looks up, her brown eyes misty, and whispers loudly, “Your smile is my favorite smile. It’s never changed, you know? How you make me feel when you smile at me.”
But she confesses into the microphone, and even with how loud the music is, I can hear the soft sighs of women ripple through the smoky room.
I reply by pressing my lips to her forehead. “My smile is yours, Sadie.”
When the last note plays over the speakers, I pull her a little closer, and into the microphone I say, “Thanks for the evening and enthusiasm, everyone.”
I practically carry Sadie through the bar, but before we get to the door, she loudly whispers in my ear, “What about my list?”
“What about it?” I ask.
“I’m supposed to kiss a stranger, and that guy bought me so many drinks.”
I shake my head. “You don’t owe him anything, Sadie.”
“But I have to kiss a stranger sometime,” she pouts.
“Not tonight. You won’t remember it.”
“I could kiss you instead,” she says, her eyes hot on my face. “I used to love kissing you.”
I used to love kissing her, too. She was my first, and the feel of her softness is permanently engraved on my lips, but I know if she kisses me now, she’s not really kissing me. She’s kissing a memory.
We leave the bar, the salty breeze wafting around us.
“Oh! The ocean!” Sadie squeals, pushing against me as I hold her tightly. “Let’s go swim!”
“I’m not sure that’s a great idea.”
She pushes out her bottom lip. “But I want to. I want to be pulled under by the current and become a mermaid. I’d be so pretty with shiny green scales. Wouldn’t that make a beautiful story?”
Four pina coladas should not do this much damage, whether rushed or not, and I have a feeling this is more than alcohol. This is alcohol mixed with the taste of freedom.
“That would be a beautiful story, but you know what another beautiful story would be?”
She looks at me with expectant eyes.
“Here, let me hold you so you can look at the stars.” I shift her body in my arms so she’s looking up. “What if you could become one of those, glittering in the night sky, people wishing on you every night?”
She relaxes into my body.
“I like that story idea,” she mumbles, but then she becomes rigid. “Milo?” Her voice turns frantic.
I’m already ahead of her, swiftly walking toward a trash can. She slides out of my arms, hugging the metal bin, and I quickly sweep her hair away from her face as she heaves within it. I rub her back with my other hand. “It’s okay, Sadie. I’m here.”
“Milo?” she asks without looking back at me.
“Yes?”
“I don’t have anything to wipe my mouth.”
I smile to myself before I gently turn her around and lift the bottom of my shirt to carefully clean her face. “I’ve got you.”
Then I pick her up again, all her weight in my arms—fully trusting me—and I don’t take it for granted.
“Milo?”
“Hm?”
“I don’t think I hate you.” Her words are slow and lazy.
“You don’t?”
“No,” she says. “I think I was so mad at you because I loved you so much. I think I still do. Did you know I haven’t kissed anyone since you?
I didn’t even date. Who does that? Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes, that’s who.
Which is me. Apparently,” she rattles off, each word tripping into each other as she says them.
I know I can’t take these words she’s giving me. I know she’s giving them without knowing it. So I just carry her while she continues to talk, even though my heart is crashing against my chest like the waves to the sand.
“I used to think about driving to see you. Surprising you. Seeing if you still loved me too. What would you have done if I did that?”
The words slice deep within, cutting through flesh, bone, and marrow.
I wish I could say that I would have held on to her and never let go, but I was a kid hell-bent to prove myself. To prove I was worthy. To prove I was better than my dad.
Even so, I did always think of Sadie. She lived in my head and heart since the first day she tied my shoes.
“I don’t know, Sadie,” I say honestly.
“Did you ever think of driving to see me? To see if I still loved you?”
I swallow. Every second of every day. It felt so complicated at the time. How could you hold a dream in one hand and love in the other?
“Yes.” I give her another honest answer.
“It’s too bad we couldn’t figure it out. We were so dumb,” she says before her eyes close, and her head falls heavily against my chest.
And I agree. We were dumb. But sometimes that’s how life goes. You make the wrong choices, but it’s what you do after you realize they were wrong that matters.
I carry her all the way back to our hotel, up to our room, and finally lay her on a bed—the bed closest to the windows instead of the door. I pull off her sandals and fold down the bedding so I can tuck her under the sheets. Her eyes flutter open. “Milo, will you hold me?”
I take a deep breath. “I’ll hold you for a little while.”
I slide under the blankets beside her, pulling her to my side as I lay on my back.
I stroke her hair with one hand while my other arm is curled around her.
Her breathing becomes heavy and slow. I breathe her in—beyond the smoky smell from the bar and the stickiness of the salty air.
I take in what I’ve missed so much—the musk of her skin and the warmth of her soul.
The smell makes me ache. Sadie’s home for me.
Then I close my eyes because it’s a comfort I haven’t felt in a very long time.