Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
WESLEY
This is fucking torture.
Lucky’s used to be a place to blow off some steam after a long week. Now it’s my own personal purgatory.
Every weekend was the same: predictable and consistent. The same neon lights, same bad covers and line dancing—except now I’m sitting at the bar, forced to watch Lane spin Sadie around the dance floor.
How does she not see what an asshole he can be? I know I don’t exactly hold the moral high ground, but still.
Lydia got a round for everyone and he acted like he was above it. Couldn’t just say thanks and take the fucking shot. Instead, he had to lie and pull that “designated driver” bullshit when Emmett’s the one who literally drove us here.
Maybe Sadie does know. Maybe that’s why she stepped in—taking the shot, smiling through it, covering for her boyfriend’s shit behavior before anyone could notice.
Her boyfriend.
The words taste bitter.
I made that stupid fucking joke outside the lodge and she threw it right back in my face, eyes bright like she meant it. She’s not even trying to hide it anymore—sitting too close, fingers brushing his arm, laughing at whatever bullshit he whispers in her ear.
Lane should have more respect for my dad. For the rules. For the fact that she’s supposed to be off-limits. He’s not exempt from that. There are plenty of other girls who’d love nothing more than to have a temporary fling.
Sadie is not that girl.
He knows better, and every way he touches her feels like he’s flaunting it. The way he put his arm around her in the truck, pulling her away from me—it’s all so fucking juvenile.
Maybe it should make me feel good, that he sees me as a threat. But it doesn’t. None of this feels good.
I keep telling myself it’ll work itself out. I just have to bide my time. Eventually, he’ll show his true colors and she’ll see what I see.
Until then, I get a front-row seat to the slow-motion car wreck that is the girl I can’t seem to stop thinking about falling for someone else.
By the time Landon finally shows up—an hour and a half late—I’ve got just enough alcohol in my system to take the edge off, and hopefully keep me from doing something stupid. Or maybe to make everything worse. Only time will tell.
I’ve been trying not to look for her. Really trying. But my eyes have a mind of their own and they find her every time. Like if I stare long enough, she’ll turn, and everything between us will make sense again.
Her eyes light up when she looks at him, like he hung the moon and stars just for her.
I think that’s what hurts the most. I’ve been trying to do the right thing, but I only seem to be making things worse. I should’ve stopped fighting it. I should’ve given in and kissed her.
There were so many moments and I let them slip right through my fingers. She opened up to me—trusted me—and I told her not to get the wrong idea about what we were. The look on her face gutted me, but in the moment, I thought it was the right thing to say.
She’s only here for the summer.
Why start something that already has an expiration date?
A few more weeks and she’s gone. It would be stupid to think that something more could happen.
Still, I can’t deny the pleasure that blooms in my chest knowing Lane is just a summer hookup. Something temporary before she leaves and goes back to her real life.
She probably won’t ever think about this place again after she’s gone.
“Um, hello?” Landon snaps his fingers in front of my face.
I blink. “Sorry. Zoned out, I guess. Where were you?”
“Finished that framing we were working on. What’d I miss?” He flags down the bartender and orders two beers, sliding one in front of me.
“Not much,” I lie as my eyes scan the room again, finding their target almost instantly.
“Mhm,” he hums. “So, what’s got you in a sour mood tonight?”
“I’m peachy.”
“Oh yeah? That got anything to do with a certain blonde over there?” He tilts his head toward the dance floor.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You might want to try to be a little more convincing if you want people to believe that. Anyone with fuckin’ eyeballs can see right through you.”
I drain the last of my beer and signal for another. “Drop it.”
“She doesn’t really seem like Lane’s type, if I’m being honest,” he mutters.
“Land. I’m serious.”
To his credit, he backs off. I down the second beer just as Emmett and Lydia dance their way over to us.
“Alright, who wants to buy me a drink? Brantley is being a real party pooper tonight,” Lydia says, pouting.
Landon looks at me, eyebrows slightly raised. I shake my head subtly, silently telling him to let it go.
“I got you, Lyd,” Emmett says, flagging Brantley down. “Hey, B. Can we get another round?”
Brantly rolls his eyes but lines up a row of shots for everyone. Landon turns his down since he is one of the actual designated drivers tonight. Emmett takes it instead, now that Lane so kindly relieved him of his duties.
It takes a lot for me to hate someone, but I really don’t fucking like him.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
He and Sadie walk up, laughing and breathless from dancing.
Landon and Emmett give him that half-handshake, half-hug thing, palms slapping together before they pull each other in and clap each other on the back. It pisses me off more than it should. This all feels like a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
Sadie leans in, grinning wildly, and Lydia slides her a shot. She tosses it back, laughing, carefree, and glowing under the lights.
I’m trying not to be obvious, but all my attention is focused on her. I can’t help it. It should be Lane’s responsibility to keep his girlfriend safe, but I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone. Elk River is a small town, and I haven’t forgotten how shitty some of these guys were growing up.
Lane comes up behind her, his hands low on her waist, pulling her back against him like she’s gravity and he’s finally giving in.
I know that feeling. That undeniable magnetic pull.
She giggles, sinking into him further, her tight black dress riding high on her bare thighs.
The oversized flannel slips off her shoulder, exposing the thinnest little strap of her dress.
I shift on my feet and remind myself that it’s none of my business, even if I can’t help but wish I was the one who was going to take it off her tonight.
Then it clicks. The flannel.
A pit forms in my stomach when I realize where I’ve seen it before.
Yesterday. When Lane was wearing it.
It’s not oversized—it’s a men’s shirt.
She’s wearing his fucking shirt.
I can’t watch this shit anymore.
Landon pats me on the shoulder, voice low. “Wanna step out with me while I smoke?”
But I’m in too deep. My vision tunnels.
I wedge in the space beside Lydia and flag down Brantley, ordering another beer I probably shouldn’t.
While I wait, I overhear Lydia’s loud-ass mouth over the music.
“You did not! He made you cry?” she gasps.
Sadie groans. “It was so embarrassing. I was borderline sobbing in the middle of this gorgeous restaurant.”
Something in me snaps. I think Lydia says something, but the sound around me becomes muddled, like my head is submerged underwater. My skin is buzzing, heat climbing up my neck, and I can’t stop it.
I’m moving before I can think twice, pushing Lydia to the side a little rougher than I meant to, but I’ll apologize later. Right now the only thing that matters to me is Sadie.
“What the fuck, Wes?” Lydia huffs. “What’s your prob—”
“He made you cry?” I snap, my gaze locked on Sadie, her green eyes wide and glassy.
“Calm down, psycho. It wasn’t like that. Not that it’s any of your business.”
I step closer, chest heaving, my heart clawing at my ribs. I know I’m crossing a boundary, but I can’t stop myself.
She presses her hands against me, trying to push me back—but the contact only makes it worse. I feel it everywhere.
For a second, I swear the air between us hums. I wish I could freeze time right here, in this impossible, awful, perfect second. But this was always going to end. A flash of lightning in a storm, never meant to last.
The moment is over when Lane inserts himself between us, shoving me back a hell of a lot harder than Sadie did. Almost like she didn’t want to push me away at all.
“Keep your hands off her,” he growls. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”
“You.”
The word hangs heavy in the space between us.
He stiffens, eyebrows shooting up like he’s less surprised by my admission than the fact that I finally said it out loud.
“Back. Off,” he warns, stepping forward.
I laugh, short and humorless.
“Wesley,” Sadie says softly, her voice trembling slightly. “Don’t.”
She doesn’t step back. Doesn’t look away. And for one reckless and desperate second, I think she might care.
But we both know it’s too late.
My eyes flick to hers and it’s like an arrow to my heart. Tears rim her eyes and her bottom lip quivers.
And it’s all because of me.
Because I can’t stop fucking everything up.
“I thought—” My throat tightens. “I thought he hurt you.”
But no. I’m the one who hurt her. Not him.
Behind her, Lane’s jaw ticks. “Let’s go, Sadie.”
She hesitates and that’s all it takes to light the fuse.
He reaches for her arm and I don’t think twice before I step closer. To my surprise, the motherfucker shoves me back and I see red. I’ve been dying for a reason to remind him where the fuck he is.
I shove him back, hard, my chest heaving. He stumbles back, and for half a second, it feels good—like maybe if I hit him hard enough, it’ll knock this feeling out of me.
But it’s still there, heavier than ever.
The bar goes still. The music keeps playing, but the whole place feels suspended in time. Waiting.
I tilt my head to the side, giving him one more chance to really think about this. It’s been a while since I’ve had to fight, but I will if I need to. For her.
But before it escalates, Sadie moves between us, one hand pressing flat to my chest.
It burns.
Emmett and Landon step in, voices low and urgent, trying to break this up before it explodes. Her hand drops from my chest like she’s finally letting go of something that was never really there to begin with.
I nod, forcing myself to look at her one last time—one last fucking time—just long enough to feel the final binding snap.
Then I turn and walk out.
Not because I want to, but because it’s the only thing I can still control. And because whatever was there, it’s over now.