Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SADIE
The sun is already starting to dip behind the mountains by the time we’re settled in the cabin.
Mia and Tori have been fighting over the limited electrical outlets and arguing over who has to sleep on the pullout couch, since all three of us won’t fit in the bed.
I vow to never ever take the endless hot water at the main house for granted again as I rush through a lukewarm shower.
My skin is still a little damp as I throw on a cropped T-shirt and jeans. We’re just going to Lucky’s, but I hope to tease Wesley a little by reminding him of what he can’t touch while we’re around everyone.
Landon and Wesley are waiting out front of the bar, leaning against the brick wall and looking like a Wrangler ad—beers in hand, both of them unfairly attractive beneath the glow of the string lights.
Wesley’s eyes find mine immediately and my stomach flips. His gaze says everything he can’t as he pushes off the wall and crosses the distance.
“Hey.” His voice is low, just for me.
“Hey,” I reply, leaning into him as close as I can without being obvious.
His fingers brush against mine for half a second before his lips ghost the shell of my ear.
“You think ignoring me will lessen my need for you? I meant every word and you know it.”
That’s all it takes. His words settle into me, deeper and deeper, until they sink their teeth into my bones. I’m drowning in knowing, without a hint of doubt, that he means them truly.
Mia stops in front of the painted mural on the side of the bar, the glow from the string lights catching on the shine of her hair. Landon’s eyes narrow, lingering as they slowly trace the length of her.
It’s not at all surprising—people are drawn to her like moths to a flame. Her beauty is ethereal. She doesn’t just take up space—she bends the air around her.
Usually she doesn’t notice—or, at least, she pretends not to. I assume Landon is just another moth until she glances over her shoulder, a sly little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“Here,” she says, tossing her phone into his hands without warning. “Make yourself useful and take a few pics for me.”
She backs away from him, positioning herself in front of the brick wall.
“Useful?” Landon repeats, eyeing the phone in his hands, dumbfounded. He looks completely out of his depth, which almost makes me laugh.
“Yes,” Mia says, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Be a good little cowboy and make sure the lights are in frame.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“What? Cowboy?” She grins, deliberately baiting him. “Isn’t that, like…quite literally what you are?”
He mutters something under his breath I can’t make out, but still lifts the phone and starts taking pictures. His frown doesn’t ease, but he doesn’t stop, either.
She places one hand against the painted bricks, moving through poses with dramatic ease.
First she looks over her shoulder and kicks one cowboy boot up behind her, then she drops into a crouch, resting her chin in the palm of her hand.
There’s intention behind every move, but she masks it beneath ease, like breathing.
Once her performance is over, she straightens, sauntering back toward her grouchy photographer. She plucks her phone from his hands and immediately scrolls through the new additions to her camera roll.
Her expression flickers mid-swipe, and the playful smirk spread across her lips falters as her brows pinch together.
“Wait—these are actually really good.” Her voice has lost the teasing bite, softer now, edged with genuine surprise.
Landon snorts, low and quiet. “Guess I’m useful after all.”
Mia glances at him, a shadow of something unreadable crossing her face before she tucks it away behind another smirk. “Don’t get a big head about it, cowboy.”
The corner of his lip quirks, but he doesn’t argue, just pulls the handle and holds the door open for us.
We file in, one after the other. Wesley’s hand finds the small of my back as the familiar buzz of music and the sharp tang of beer-soaked floorboards envelop me.
Lydia and Emmett practically race to the bar while the rest of us push through the crowd at a more reasonable pace. Wesley drops his hand when we reach the group, but he’s still close enough behind me that I can feel the heat of him, steady and solid.
Brantley lines up seven shot glasses and begins filling each one with the golden liquid that has not been my friend lately. Emmett starts passing them out. When he gets to Tori, he pauses, holding hers just out of reach.
“Do you think you’re being cute?” she asks, her tone pure sarcasm.
“I think you think I’m cute,” Emmett fires back, flashing his easygoing grin.
Lydia’s eyes are locked on him, but he’s too busy watching my redheaded friend to notice.
Wanting to break the tension, I clink my glass against Lydia’s before tossing back the burning liquid.
Landon must sense the shift too, because he slings an arm around his sister’s shoulders and ruffles her hair. “Don’t scowl, Lyd. You’ll get wrinkles.”
“Don’t touch me.” she snaps, but without any real bite.
“You’ve missed me,” he teases.
“Hard to miss someone who’s constantly up my ass.”
“Quit being a little shit. I’m worried about you.”
“Wanna grab a table in the back?” Emmett cuts in, two pitchers of beer in hand.
Wesley nods and grabs the glasses from Brantley, and we all trail toward the corner booth.
It’s hard to believe that just a few weeks ago, my life looked completely different. I felt completely different. This—them—feels so familiar, so comfortable, like it was always supposed to be this way.
But that little voice in the back of my head keeps whispering that I shouldn’t get used to it. That I don’t belong here.
That it’s only temporary.
But I’ve never felt at home anywhere else. Not like I do here.
We’re on our fourth pitcher when Mia suddenly stands and announces she needs to pee. I volunteer to go with her—because girl code, but also because she seems a little tipsier than she’s letting on.
Thankfully, the hallway is empty. Though I knew it would be, relief floods me anyway, knowing there won’t be any bloody noses dripping on the floor tonight. Lane is gone, and everything is fine.
Mia stops in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, pulling out her phone to snap a few more pictures.
“This lighting is actually kind of good. The red is a total vibe. Like an underground sex club or something.”
“You’ve got a problem.” Landon’s voice echoes from down the hall.
“This is literally part of my job.”
“Social media rots your brain.”
She turns toward him, completely amused. “Actually…can I use you?”
He stares at her. “Use me?”
“As a prop, cowboy. Calm down. I won’t even show your face.”
“Why does that sound worse?”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Oh my God, just—stand there, turn to the side a little, and look…I don’t know, rugged or something.”
“That’s not a thing.”
She ignores him, reaching for his arm and draping it over her shoulders and across her collarbones.
“Perfect,” she murmurs, lifting her phone.
He glances down at her, jaw tight, then tightens his hold ever so slightly—enough to pull her flush against him.
Heat sweeps across my cheeks and I quietly slip away, feeling like I’m intruding on something I’m not supposed to see.
Back at the table, Mia scrolls through her camera roll, chewing on a straw, while Landon sits across from her, trying his best to pretend he’s not looking.
Wesley’s hand rests on my thigh beneath the table, fingers flexing like he can’t help himself.
Out on the dance floor, Lydia spins in the arms of some random guy.
Emmett notices, his jaw ticking before he drains the last of his beer and scrapes his chair across the floor, making a show of shifting closer to Tori. He drapes his arm over the back of her chair, leaning in with a grin that’s equal parts cocky and reckless.
“So how much longer are you gonna pretend you don’t wanna give that mouth something better to do—right here, right now?” His voice dips lower, but it’s still loud enough to draw stares from the next table over.
Tori doesn’t even blink. “I’m not pretending, dickless. You’re just too pathetic to take a hint.”
Emmett only smirks wider, like he gets off on riling her up, but something is off.
“Want me to tag you?” Mia asks, glancing up at Landon.
Emmett snorts. “That’d require him actually having an account.”
“Ugh. Okay, grandpa. We get it. You walked to school uphill both ways in a blizzard. You’re so tough,” Mia fires back.
“How fucking old do you think I am?” Landon practically growls.
She ignores him, pivoting smoothly. “So, Robyn is dead set on me doing the PR thing.” She takes a sip of beer before continuing. “Fake boyfriend, blah blah blah, control the narrative and all that bullshit.”
“That sounds exhausting,” I say. “Have you picked out the lucky bachelor yet?”
“I keep telling her to pick that duke or viscount or whatever. She could be literal royalty,” Tori chimes in, sucking on a lime.
“Oh, is that what it takes to earn your affections? To come from a royal bloodline?” Emmett says with a laugh, but she doesn’t play along.
“It’s only temporary. I’m not marrying the guy,” Mia adds, tossing her phone face down onto the table.
“Poor bastard, whoever he is. Don’t know why anyone would sign up for that nightmare,” Landon mutters, too sharply.
Mia doesn’t look at him, but the corner of her mouth quirks up—just a little.
I get lost in the feeling of Wesley absentmindedly squeezing my thigh while Emmett doesn’t give up trying to win Tori’s affections.
I’m still in awe that this is happening—my two worlds are colliding, and everything is okay.
The cabin smells like coffee and pine, warm and sharp all at once.
Sunlight pours through the sheer curtains, painting the wood floors in gold. Mia’s curled up on the leather couch in an oversized T-shirt, legs tucked beneath her, while Tori digs through her bag by the bathroom door, still rambling through a story I stopped paying attention to ten minutes ago.
It’s still so surreal to me that they’re actually here. I invited Lydia to stay in the cabin with us but she said she was too tired to come over last night. I want to believe her; I have no reason not to.
“Okay, I’m showering now,” Tori announces, towel slung over her arm. “Try not to miss me too much,” she calls out, voice echoing as she disappears down the hallway. The bathroom door clicks shut behind her.
The silence that follows is unsettling. I chew my lip so hard it stings, but it does nothing to suppress the uneasy feeling in my stomach. Tori is an acquired taste, sure, but something about her feels different. Maybe I’m just overthinking it.
I glance at Mia, but she doesn’t look at me. In fact, it seems like she’s making an effort to avoid eye contact. The pit in my stomach swells to a black hole, until finally her eyes meet mine.
“I have to tell you something.” Her voice is soft and gentle. She shifts on the leather cushion, pulling her shirt down over her knees.
My stomach rolls and my mind immediately begins flipping through a Rolodex of worst-case scenarios.
“It’s about that night,” she says. “At the party in the Hills.”
I nod slowly. “Okay. What about it?”
Her eyes flick toward the hallway, then back to me. “I swear I didn’t know. I had no idea until last week. And I didn’t know how to tell you from a distance—”
“Mia.” My voice is thin. “Just say it.”
She swallows. “They were in the bathroom. Tori and Kolson. She was snorting fucking coke, and she was with him—when everything happened.”
I blink. “With him?”
“They’ve been hooking up for months.” Her voice breaks slightly. “She never told me. I only found out because I accidentally walked in on them in her apartment.”
Her words hit like ice water, trickling down my spine until I can’t breathe. I don’t speak. I can’t. For the first time in my life, I am legitimately speechless.
“I’m so sorry, Sadie. I wanted to tell you in person. Fuck, I hate having to tell you at all. You don’t deserve—”
The bathroom door swings open. Tori strolls out in a towel, hair twisted into a bun, humming like the world hasn’t just collapsed around me.
“Dammit, I forgot my lotion.” She rummages through her bag, freezing when she sees our faces.
“What?” She laughs, too high, too awkward. “You look like someone died.”
All I can do is stare. Disbelief, betrayal, and disgust swirls into something poisonous in my stomach.
“Oh my God.” She covers her mouth, eyes wide. “Did someone actually die? Please don’t tell me it’s Glen Powell.”
“You slept with Kolson?” My voice is unrecognizable, like someone else is saying the words.
She glances at Mia, then back to me, realization spreading across her face.
“I’m guessing she told you?” She waves a hand like it’s nothing—like our friendship is nothing. “It’s not a big deal, Sadie. You and Kol weren’t even serious. It didn’t mean anything. And you’ve been up here gallivanting in the mountains, screwing cowboys, so—”
“No.”
The word comes out louder than I mean it to. Or maybe it’s exactly how I mean it.
All of the built-up hurt and anger bubbles to the surface, and I can’t take it anymore. Her mouth parts but I’m already on my feet, unable to sit still.
“I haven’t been screwing cowboys.” My voice shakes, but the words don’t stop. “My father found out what almost happened at that party and shipped me away because he didn’t want to deal with it. I have been here. Working. Every. Fucking. Day.”
Tori crosses her arms. “I still don’t see why it matters. You left, and clearly you’ve moved on. Are you really going to deny you fucked one of them?”
“Oh my God,” I snap. “Yes, Tori, I fucked one of them. One. That doesn’t make what you did okay.”
The words are like fire scorching my throat on the way out.
She shrugs and gives me an incredulous glare, like I’m being dramatic, making something out of nothing. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
I let out a jagged laugh. “How about sorry? Sorry I fucked your boyfriend behind your back? That might be a good place to start.”
She rolls her eyes. “Are you delusional? He. Wasn’t. Yours.”
“Fuck you. Everyone knew how I felt about him. How silly of me to think one of my closest friends would actually respect that.”
She goes still. Jaw locked. Arms crossed tight.
“I’m not mad because I still have feelings for him,” I say, voice low. “I’m mad because I trusted you, and you were supposed to be my friend.”
The room remains silent, like everyone’s holding their breath. Not me. Not anymore.
I grab my things and slam the door hard enough to rattle the frame—hard enough to snap the thread I’d been clinging to, the last fragile tether of a friendship already unraveling.