Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
SADIE
Despite my attempts to stop this “solution” from happening, at four a.m., I was physically forced into the car and dropped off at the airport.
After a two-and-a-half-hour plane ride, I walk out of baggage claim, rolling my suitcase behind me, to find an old, rusted pickup truck parked beside the curb.
A man around my father’s age leans against the side, looking like he walked off the set of a Clint Eastwood western. Faded denim jeans with dirt stains on the knees. A thick brown beard, speckled with gray hairs. Tan skin, aged and wrinkled from too much time in the sun.
Despite the ruggedness, he’s quite handsome. Mia would be all over him—she’s always had a thing for older guys.
“Sadie?” he calls out, his voice deep and smoky.
“In the flesh,” I sigh, pressing my lips into a flat line, hoping it passes for a smile. The cut on my lip stings, a little reminder of why I’m here.
His expression softens as he steps forward, eyes scanning over my face before he takes my suitcase. “I’m Heath. Nice to finally put a face to the name. I’ve heard a lot about you over the years.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
Even with a gun to his temple, Warren wouldn’t be able to say a single nice thing about me.
Heath hauls my suitcase into the bed of the truck like it weighs nothing, then opens the passenger-side door for me. I climb in without a word. I know I should make an effort to be nicer. To say it’s nice to meet him too and thank him for letting me stay for the summer, but I can’t bring myself to.
The leather seat is cracked and scratchy beneath my thighs, and the smell of hay and something slightly sooty lingers in the cab. He climbs into the driver’s seat beside me, buckles his seatbelt, and turns the key.
“Alrighty,” he says, a little too cheerfully. “Let’s roll.”
The engine sputters to life, and we pull out of the pick up line. I stare out the window, watching as the small downtown blurs into an endless highway.
“So,” he says, glancing over at me. “How was the flight?”
“Fine.”
“First time in the mountains?”
“No.”
He nods slowly, eventually giving up and letting the silence take over again. Finally.
He’s being genuinely kind, and I know I’m being a little shitty, but I can’t pretend this is okay. I’m not okay. None of this is even remotely okay.
The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, and my mind does what it always does—turns on me. Spiraling straight into the worst places.
He doesn’t seem like the kind of person my father would call a friend. He’s too warm. Too grounded. Too normal.
A chill creeps down my spine as a darker thought hits. What if he’s not a friend at all? What if he’s one of Warren’s clients? Someone he kept out of prison? Someone who owes him a favor?
My stomach twists. The thought burns through me before I can swallow it down.
“How do you know Warren?” I blurt, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. “You weren’t a client or something, were you?”
He glances over, brow furrowing and a hint of surprise in his voice. “You call your dad by his first name?” When I don’t answer, he exhales softly, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “No, nothing like that. My record’s clean.”
I nod. That doesn’t explain how he knows Warren, but at least now I know he’s not a criminal.
Glancing out the window, my eyes blur as I focus on the horizon. Mountains stretching as far as I can see. The quiet drone of the truck and the 90s country radio station playing softly in the background.
My brain still hasn’t caught up to reality. It hasn’t sunk in that I’m really here. That this wasn’t an empty threat Warren made in a moment of anger.
This is happening.
“We’re really glad to have you here with us for the summer, Sadie,” Heath says, his voice softer than before. “Our home is your home while you’re with us.”
I nod but don’t say anything. Something about the way he says it sounds real. Not like a hollow, overly polite line people use when they don’t know what else to say.
It sounds…genuine.
And it’s weirdly comforting. I’ve never really felt at home anywhere before.
“If you need anything, my boys’ll be around to help. Don’t hesitate to ask.”
I blink. Boys?
A neutral expression masks the twist tightening in my gut. My boys. Plural.
Great. I had no idea there would be sons involved in this whole mess. That’s really, really great. Exactly what I was hoping for—more strangers witnessing the slow-motion train wreck that is my life.
I breathe through the tightness in my chest.
Spending my summer on a ranch in the middle of nowhere could be a blessing in disguise. A blessing I did not ask for and definitely don’t want—but a blessing nonetheless.
An hour and a half later, we finally pull through the main gate, passing under a huge weathered wooden arch with a faded sign that reads The Wildflower.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my denim shorts, needing to give my hands something to do.
We slowly roll down the dirt and gravel drive, passing a few vintage-style A-frame cabins, spaced out along the drive.
Farther out, there are a few fenced-in grassy areas and an old barn that looks like it’s been standing here longer than anything else. Behind it, there’s a lodge-style house tucked near the trees—but mostly, it’s wide-open space, framed by endless trees and a stunning mountain backdrop.
The truck stops in front of a gorgeous two-story log cabin with a few modern touches. It’s beautiful. Cozy and charming and oozing with character. Nothing like the crowded, ostentatious McMansions cluttering the neighborhoods back home.
The mountains behind it off in the distance make it even more breathtaking, like a painting brought to life.
Heath’s unloading my suitcase from the truck bed by the time I climb out and circle around to help, feeling guilty for taking my frustration out on him.
“Don’t you dare,” he gruffs. “The boys should be out here anyway to say hello and give you the grand tour.”
Nodding, I step aside, feeling awkward again and not knowing what the fuck I’m supposed to do with my hands. My fingers find the hem of my T-shirt, twisting it without thinking.
Heath blows out a sharp whistle that cuts through the air, and my body flinches before I can stop it. I roll my shoulders, pretending to admire the view instead of how fast my pulse is racing.
I’m mid-stretch when the slam of a screen door makes me jump—again.
“Don’t slam my doors,” Heath scolds.
Spinning back toward the house, I plaster on a smile. I should at least try to make a good impression and start off on the right foot. But my faux smile fades when my eyes land on two of the most attractive men I have ever seen in my entire life.
Jesus Christ. Is this a joke? What is in the water that makes everyone here ridiculously good looking?
The one on the left is slightly taller, with darker features. He has dark chestnut hair that flips out a little beneath a backward baseball cap.
I don’t know what it is about those stupid hats, but they’re a weakness of mine.
As if that wasn’t enough, the sleeves of his shirt are shoved up to the elbows, revealing sun-bronzed skin. But it’s his hooded, deep amber eyes locked on mine that completely captivate me.
My gaze lingers too long. I clear my throat, forcing a smile that almost feels real.
“Hey, I’m Sadie,” I say flatly.
There’s a long pause as their eyes slowly trail down my body. The attention makes my skin itch.
“I’m Emmett.” The other brother beams as he extends his hand to me. “Nice to meet you.”
I falter slightly before reaching out and shaking his hand. A wide grin spreads across his lips, revealing a small dimple in his left cheek. I can’t help but reciprocate.
Emmett’s hair is slightly shorter and dirty blonde. His skin is sun-kissed, with a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks complementing his angelic blue-gray eyes.
He finally lets go of my hand, but his eyes stay locked on me. I shift on my feet, extending my hand toward his brother, expecting the same warm welcome.
Instead, my hand hangs there, suspended awkwardly until he finally speaks, his voice low.
“Wesley.”
One word. That’s all I get?
I shove my hands into my pockets, pressing my teeth into my tongue until the feeling dulls. “Nice to meet you both.”
Heath returns from hauling my suitcase inside, but Wesley and Emmett still haven’t taken their eyes off me. My throat tightens, closing in until I can barely swallow. Heath claps his hands once and rubs them together.
“Well, how about you boys give Sadie a tour?” he says, glancing between them.
“Great idea. We can take my truck,” Emmett says with another infectious smile. He starts toward a newer all-black truck, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Wes, you coming?”
“Can’t. Busy,” Wesley’s eyes flick to me once more before he turns away, heading in the direction of the barn.
Emmett waves him off as we climb into the truck, completely unfazed by his brother’s rudeness. He glances over and smirks, and heat rushes up my neck. I shift in my seat, pretending it’s just from the sun.
Am I really blushing right now?
He leans over the console, close enough that I forget how to breathe.
My spine hits the seat, heart tripping over itself as the space between us hums—warm, electric.
His arm grazes my shoulder, fingers brushing the edge of my shirt before he pulls the seat belt across my chest and clicks it into place.
The sound is sharp, final.
He eases back behind the wheel, a quiet laugh slipping from him, that half-smile tugging at his mouth like he knows exactly what he’s doing.
My cheeks are on fire. I turn toward the window, pretending to study the trees outside. Suddenly I’m a nature enthusiast. But my reflection gives me away—wide-eyed, flustered, and completely undone.
For half a second, I thought he was leaning in to kiss me.
My heart trips over itself as reality slams into me. I’m an idiot.
Mortification prickles beneath my skin. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I stare out the window, replaying the moment on a loop and wondering how I could’ve misread it.
Great, Sadie. This is a great start.
My brain won’t stop spiraling. Did he notice? How red is my face right now? I try to swallow, but my throat is too thick.
In his absence, a pinch of disappointment flutters low in my stomach, persistent and impossible to ignore.
Did I actually want him to kiss me?
No, what am I thinking? Of course not.
I don’t want, or need, to complicate my life anymore than it already is. The last thing I need right now is a crush—or worse, some reckless summer fling with a cowboy.
After a long and thorough tour, I’m exhausted.
Emmett has been talking almost non stop—names, landmarks, rules, and endless stories. Somewhere along the way, his voice morphed into background noise.
The truck winds through a narrow dirt path, a sea of wildflowers spilling like paint across the hills. I roll down the window, and the warm breeze rushes in—sweet, floral, alive. Resting my head on my arms, I lean out the window, closing my eyes to take it all in.
Emmett slows to a stop, shifting into park. He turns to face me, his back leaning against the door. The air shifts and I straighten, suddenly aware of his eyes on me.
No—he’s staring at me.
My pulse trips under his undivided attention.
Say something. Anything.
“I see where you got the name,” I blurt, waving a hand toward the endless florals surrounding us. “This place is…”
My words trail off before I can find the right one.
He doesn’t answer. His gray eyes remain locked on mine. My cheeks flush, and I nervously fidget with the hem of my shirt.
Panic squeezes my chest. What if my father told Heath why he sent me here last-minute—his version of the story—and now Heath’s sons think I’m...
The thought presses in, nearly suffocating, but I shut it down before it can spiral.
My gaze drops first, unable to hold his beneath the weight tightening around my ribs.
“My mom,” Emmett says softly, clearing his throat.
“What?”
“She picked the name. This was her favorite place. The inspiration for ... everything.“ His voice is warm and low, threaded with something heavier underneath.
I nod slowly, letting his words sink in. This was her favorite place. When did it stop being her favorite? I open my mouth to ask, but he shifts back into his seat.
“We should head back,” he says softly, with a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He shakes his head once, almost to himself, then starts the truck.
The room is small—smaller than the one I have back home—but it’s cute.
Taking a deep breath, I inhale the scent of clean linens, fresh rain, and a lingering trace of cedar.
A solid wood bed anchors the center of the space, a colorful woven wool rug stretching across the old floorboards.
I delicately run my fingertips over the soft quilt before collapsing onto the bed and closing my eyes.
My mind replays the last twenty-four hours on a loop. I’m supposed to actually work here. Real, physical labor. I’ve never even had a real job before.
It’s only for the summer. I’m sure Heath and his sons have endured worse. But even as I think it, the knot in my stomach tightens. It’s not fair to be dragging them into my mess.
Since I haven’t heard from anyone since last night—or I guess technically this morning—I send a quick message in my group chat with Mia and Tori.