Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
SADIE
The sun is warm on my skin, but it’s only surface level. Inside, I’m cold and empty.
I’m lying on a towel, toes buried in the soft sand, rereading the same sentence from my book over and over again.
Mia’s scrolling through her phone next to me, ranting about Robyn’s persistence about…something. I’m not really listening, but I nod along like I am.
My mind drifts somewhere else. Somewhere tucked in the mountains, sprinkled with wildflowers. Somewhere with a porch swing and a dream.
Somewhere I could envision myself living my own happily ever after.
Somewhere with him.
He’s taken root in my thoughts and I can’t stop it. I think about him constantly.
It’s pathetic, really—how every sunset reminds me of him. The way the light caught his eyes, golden and warm, like honey. The kind you never want to forget. I could’ve gotten drunk off his gaze alone.
Every time I drink a shitty, overpriced iced coffee, I long for mornings on the porch, sipping from my favorite mug.
I haven’t reached out, but some nights when I can’t sleep, my thumb hovers over his contact, thumbs itching to ask him how he’s doing. If he’s happy.
The photo is set to one he took of us, lying in his bed.
His dark-green duvet is pulled up to my chin and his arms are wrapped around me.
I don’t think I’ve ever looked happier than I do in that photo.
It’s the only one I allow myself to look at.
It hurts too much, like a bruise I can’t stop pressing.
I wonder if he still thinks about me. If he has to fight the urge to text me, too.
But then I remember—he hates me.
He’s probably already moved on while I’m sitting here like a fool, imagining all of it meant so much more.
“Um. Earth to Sadie.” Mia waves her hand in front of my face, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. “You good?”
“Yeah.” The lie tastes flat. “Just spaced out.”
Her gaze falls to the open book in my lap. “How’s your book?”
I slip my bookmark into place and close the leather-bound cover, fingers tracing over the gold foil letters. The Princess Bride.
“Bittersweet.”
Her expression softens. She knows exactly who I’m thinking about, but she doesn’t push. She’s been immensely understanding with me these last few weeks—more than I deserve. She let me sob on her couch, sleep in her bed when I couldn’t bear being alone, and turn down every invitation to go out.
But I think she’s starting to give up.
I know I already have.
Adjusting the straps of my bikini, I sit up, brushing grains of sand off my thighs. It’s hot pink with little ruffles along the edges—bright and fun in a way I’m not right now. But something about it makes me feel a little more like myself, even if everything else feels tattered.
My phone vibrates in my tote.
I reach for it absently, expecting a text from Lydia about Iris chewing through another one of her boots or a notification from being tagged in Mia’s newest post.
But then I see the name lit up on my screen.
Vapid Dick <3
you’ve always looked good in pink.
My breath catches in my throat, heart stuttering. I stare at the words, rereading the message over and over, my fingers trembling.
I’m struggling to process what this means when something makes me look up.
And there he is.
Wesley.
Standing at the edge of the beach, sneakers half-buried in the sand, athletic shorts hanging low on his hips, and a plain white T-shirt clinging to his broad frame. His baseball cap is flipped backward, a soft smirk tugging at his mouth like he knows exactly how much that sight undoes me.
He’s here.
My heart threatens to pound out of my chest, every part of me surging toward him like my heart just remembered who I belong to.
“How—how are you here?” My voice trembles. “How did you find me?”
He glances at Mia, then back at me. The corners of his mouth lift into a smile that ruins me. “A little birdie might’ve told me.”
Mia shrugs, unapologetic. “Don’t hate me, but you’ve been, like, silently drowning, Sades. I had to call in a lifeboat.”
My eyes sting. For a fraction of a heartbeat, I question if I’m dreaming. But then Wesley steps closer, grinning at me, and I feel his presence.
The book slips from my fingers and I run.
I don’t think. I just run straight to him, throwing myself into his arms.
He catches me with a low grunt, his arms locking tight around my waist, lifting me off the ground like he’s afraid to ever let go. He buries his face in my neck, and the second I breathe him in—cedar, fresh mountain rain, home—I break.
I kiss him, unable to wait another second without his lips on mine. It’s desperate, messy, and starving, weeks of ache pouring out of me all at once. He smiles against my mouth, tasting like salt and sun and everything I’ve been missing.
All of the bad stuff melts away until all that remains is me and him and the indisputable truth that my heart was made to beat for him.
“I missed you,” I whisper against his lips, breathless.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, brushing his nose against mine. “I missed you more.”
I laugh, then cry, then kiss him again. Over and over. Like I’ll never run out of reasons.
When we finally pull apart, I cup his face in my hands, overwhelmed. “I thought you hated me.”
His jaw flexes as his eyes search mine, serious now. “I could never hate you, Sadie. I’m in love with you. I think I’ve been in love with you since that first day you stomped into the kitchen.”
My throat tightens and a tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it. “I love you, too.”
He closes his eyes, exhales, like those four words are oxygen. His forehead presses to mine as he cups my cheeks, pulling my mouth to his.
When he kisses me again, it’s softer. Slower. The kind of kiss that feels like coming home.
The ocean waves crash behind us; gulls cry overhead; the world keeps moving. But all I feel is him.
And for the first time in weeks—maybe ever—I can breathe again.
Because here, in his arms—
I am home.