Chapter 37 SAGE
SAGE
The longer I stayed here, the more I could feel it—the past, finally starting to let go of me.
It was slow, almost like something peeling off, bit by bit.
Layers I didn’t even know I was still carrying.
Like an old skin I’d forgotten was there.
Or maybe I just got so used to it, I thought it was who I was.
It had been part of me for so long—this brittle armor I’d built from every scar, every wound I dragged out of Sanele. Every shame I kept hidden, even from myself.
But now… it was falling away.
And underneath it?
Something I didn’t recognize.
But it was… beautiful, too.
I was changing.
Becoming someone else.
Someone lighter.
Someone I thought I’d lost a long time ago.
I woke with that restlessness humming through my bones. A current of energy I hadn’t felt in years—raw, electric anticipation sparking just under my skin. Like something was waiting for me. Something important. Something I couldn’t ignore anymore.
And before I even realized it, my feet were carrying me toward the library.
When I opened the sliding door, the scent of cedar and old books hung heavy in the air, grounding and intoxicating all at once.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, housing stories, knowledge, and secrets bound in leather and ink.
There was reverence in the way it was arranged.
Not just neatness, but care. Respect for what lived inside these pages.
It was a map of Reich’s mind.
And I wanted to explore every inch of it.
I found myself cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by books. Their weight comforting. Their presence familiar. I trailed my fingertips along the spines before selecting one—The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.
Fitting.
A story of betrayal. Of survival. Of a man who rose from his own grave and became something more than anyone thought possible.
I flipped through the pages. Paused. And then I saw them.
Marks in the margins. Underlines. Notes scrawled in tidy, slanted handwriting. I recognized it from the note he had left me earlier.
Reich’s handwriting.
He had left pieces of himself here. Quiet rebellions against untouched pages. Little fragments of thought, insight, sometimes sharp, sometimes sardonic. And sometimes…unexpectedly gentle.
Curious, I pulled another book. Then another.
And another.
Each one bore his imprint.
And something inside me softened.
He left marks. He left proof of his existence. His thoughts. His struggles. His questions.
And I realized—
He wasn’t just living in this world. He was trying to make sense of it.
Just like me.
A slow smile curved my lips.
He did things his own way.
It was inspiring.
And it made me want to do more than just exist in someone else’s narrative.
It made me want to write my own and become something more.
More than I had ever been in Sanele.
More than I allowed myself to be in Providence.
I was still sitting there when the door creaked open.
I turned, heart skipping, and there he was.
Reich leaned lazily against the bookcase, arms folded across his chest. His expression unreadable, but his eyes—God, his eyes—burned with something that made my pulse trip over itself.
Effortless. Perfect. Dangerous.
“Having fun?” His voice was low, that smirk of his slicing right through my defenses.
I blinked, caught between embarrassment and something warmer.
I glanced at the mess I had made—books scattered like fallen leaves surrounding me like a tornado. Heat crept up my neck.
“Sorry,” I said quickly, fumbling for the closest book. “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. I just… I got caught up.”
Caught up in the stories.
Caught up in him.
His gaze sharpened. “Sage,” he said slowly, his voice like dark silk. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”
I hesitated.
But he liked order.
I could feel it in the way he carried himself, in every inch of this meticulously crafted space.
I was disrupting it.
Intruding.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, this time softer. “I’ll clean it up.”
I reached for the books again, but before I could move, he was there.
Sudden. Controlled. I barely registered the space between us closing until his hands closed over mine.
Warm. Firm.
Stopping me.
“If you apologize one more time,” his voice was low, rougher now, “we’re going to have a problem.”
His breath ghosted against my ear, sending a shiver straight through me.
And then he pulled me closer.
I inhaled sharply as his hands slid up to cradle my face.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. His voice was a rasp. A confession.
Not playful.
Not teasing.
Real.
And something inside me stilled.
Because when he said it, I believed him.
My heart thudded against my ribs as I answered him without thinking—without hesitating—with my lips.
My hands tangled in his hair as I kissed him.
Slow. Fierce and demanding.
And for a moment, he let me take control.
Just long enough to taste victory.
Before he took it back.
His hands slid up my body—slow, deliberate—until they found my throat. His fingers curled there, firm but gentle, holding me in place. Keeping me on my toes. Literally.
“You’re so damn greedy,” he murmured. His lips grazed mine, feather-light, before he pulled away just enough to leave me wanting.
I made a sound—half protest, half plea—and he chuckled.
“Be patient, wildflower.” His fingers flexed. “And you’ll get what you want.”
He kissed me then. Hard. Consuming.
Until I was dizzy.
Until I was so lost in him that I could barely stand.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath ragged. “You’re going to destroy me,” he whispered.
My pulse stuttered as I cupped his cheek, whispering, “Then let me.”
I didn’t know who moved first.
Our lips met again and that was all that matter. Until he broke the kiss and rested his hands on my waist, steadying me. Grounding me.
“Sage,” he said quietly. “Sam’s been worried.”
The world shifted, as he continued, “She went looking for you.”
I drew back, breath catching.
“She doesn’t know everything,” Reich added. “She only knows you’re here because someone tried to go after you.”
I swallowed hard.
Why hadn’t he told her everything?
“You didn’t tell her—?”
“It’s not my story to tell,” he said simply.
The words sank in and something in me unclenched.
I kissed him softly; a brief thank you pressed against his lips.
He pulled me back in, resting his forehead against mine. “She wants to see you,” he murmured. “Is that okay?”
I hesitated, but nodded, “Yes. I think so.”
He kissed me one more time before helping me to my feet.
When the door opened and Sam rushed in, I barely had time to brace myself before she threw her arms around me.
Tight. Fierce.
Like she was trying to hold me together.
“You’re not leaving me again,” she whispered fiercely.
And then she tied a ribbon around my wrist.
One of her endless ribbon bracelets.
“So, I don’t lose you.” She added.
I laughed softly, but it cracked in the middle.
Because I knew exactly what she meant.
And this time, I wasn’t letting go either.