19. Chapter 19
nineteen
Sadie
Five o’clock.
I hit the lights. Turned the lock. Rested my forehead against the door.
The silence settled in fast, curling around me like fog, heavy and inescapable.
God, I was exhausted. Not just bone-tired from work but drained. Wrung out like an old rag and left to hang.
My stomach churned like a nest of angry bees had taken up residence there, buzzing and stinging with every breath. I’d chewed off all my lipstick and half the skin underneath it. My mouth ached. My heart did, too.
I couldn’t do this anymore.
I couldn’t keep floating in this weird, painful limbo where I was too afraid to ask the questions—because the answers might shatter me.
I needed to talk to him.
I needed to know.
If I could know, I could let go. Let the weight of wondering fall off my shoulders and make room for something—anything—other than this ache.
Yeah, it’d be awkward. Seeing him every day. Being across the street from that brooding mechanic with the complicated past and the impossible eyes and the silent stares that used to feel like something.
Eventually, I’d stop holding my breath every time I saw his shadow move behind the garage window.
Eventually, I’d stop checking for his bike before pulling out of the parking lot.
Eventually, I’d stop trying to hide my stupid, traitorous heart like it hadn’t been throwing itself at a man who never once asked for it.
Because if he really chose her again, if Jessie was what he wanted, I’d respect that. I’d swallow the bitter pill and let it cut on the way down.
I had no claim. No right.
He didn’t owe me anything.
And I didn’t owe him this. This pain. This endless almost-love story, playing on a loop in my head.
We were acquaintances at best. Two ships that passed in the glitter-drenched kitchen of a bakery.
I was the fool who mistook crumbs for affection. Who let my fantasy fill in the blanks where reality had been stone-cold silent.
He wasn't interested.
And it was time I finally stopped pretending he was.
I went upstairs and took a hot shower, letting the steam wrap around me like a shield. I needed to wash away the day. The doubts. The ache that had lodged itself in my chest and refused to let go.
My muscles protested every movement, but it was nothing compared to the heaviness behind my ribs.
I needed to be able to function. To breathe without flinching.
After drying off, I pulled on something that made me feel safe—comforted, even if just barely.
An old hoodie I’d had since college. Once hot pink, now faded to a tired blush, like even the color had given up trying. The cuffs were fraying. The inside was pilled and soft from too many washes. It looked like I felt.
Worn. Fragile. But still here.
I added my favorite black leggings, the ones with a tiny hole near the ankle, I always forgot to sew. Together, the outfit was the emotional equivalent of crawling under a weighted blanket.
Not exactly the power look for confronting a man.
Not just any man.
A mountain of one, with arms like steel and a scowl sharp enough to slice me in two.
Who was I kidding?
I didn’t do confrontation. Not really. Not like this. Not when the stakes felt stitched into the very fabric of my skin.
But I couldn’t keep running. Not from this. Not from him.
It was time.
Even if my hands shook the whole damn way.
This was it. I was going to do this. I tried to take a confident stride as I crossed the street and headed to the clubhouse where I knew he was because his bike was still in the lot.
The clubhouse door was cracked just enough to see inside.
I had been standing there for a full minute, working up the nerve to knock. One more step. One more breath. Just say what you came to say.
But I never got the chance.
Because she got there first.
Jessie. Blond. Tall. Everything I wasn’t. And she was already in the room. Already walking toward him.
Her eyes flicked to the door. Right at me.
And then, smiling like the devil, she stepped right into his space and pulled him down into a kiss.
I couldn’t breathe.
I didn’t wait to see if he kissed her back. I didn’t want to know. My chest shattered, sending shrapnel and splinters deep into my ribs as I turned and ran.
The wind stung my face as I rushed back to the street, the neon cupcake on my sign taunting me like a bad joke. I thought I saw something on his face earlier today.
I thought he wanted what I did.
I was just seeing what I wanted to see.
I locked the bakery door behind me and slid to the floor, arms wrapped around my knees.
So much for brave.
So much for truth.
He made his choice.
And now I had to live with mine.
I had to get away.
Diesel
“What the fuck are you doing?” I shoved Jessie off me so hard she stumbled back a step.
"Oh, calm down.” She smirked, smoothing her shirt like she hadn’t just pulled the pin and waited for the fallout. “I saw your little cupcake outside. Figured I’d save her the trouble of throwing herself at you.”
My stomach turned to ice.
“What?”
“Mmhm.” She leaned against the wall like she’d just won something. “Sally. Whatever her name is. She was at the door. Watching.”
My chest tightened. “When?”
“A minute ago.” She checked her nails. “You were too busy being mad at me to notice.”
I was already moving.
Out the door. Down the street.
But it was too late.
The bakery was dark.
No sprinkle wall glow. No cupcake sign humming. No silhouette moving behind the glass.
And her car was gone.
Just silence. And me. Too fucking late.
I stood there on the sidewalk, fists clenched at my sides. The streetlight buzzed overhead, the only sound in the whole damn world.
“Sadie…” I whispered, even though she was long gone.
My stomach twisted hard, and my legs didn’t know whether to move forward or drop me right here on the pavement.
I didn’t even kiss her back. Didn’t touch her. My hands never left my sides.
But none of that mattered. Not to Sadie. Because Sadie didn’t see restraint—she saw confirmation.
I stared at that dark window across the street as if it might blink back to life.
Like maybe she’d come storming out and yell at me, because, fuck, at least yelling would mean she still cared.
But the street stayed still. Silent.
And I was left choking on everything I didn’t say in time. So, I went home.
But home didn’t feel like home anymore.
It felt like failure.
I paced the apartment like a caged animal.
The futon creaked under me as I dropped onto it for the tenth time tonight, only to stand again. My boots thudded against the old floorboards as I paced. Stopped. Paced again.
I grabbed the beer from the table. Warm. Flat. Still drank it.
I needed a cigarette and a time machine.
I pulled out my phone.
Opened a message thread that only had one text from her in it—a “thanks again ??” from last week.
I typed:
I didn’t kiss her. I swear.
Then deleted it.
I tried again:
Please let me explain.
Deleted again.
I ended up just staring at the screen until it went black. My reflection stared back. Empty eyes. Tight jaw. Unreadable. Just like always.
No wonder she gave up.
I was a locked door.
And when she finally came to knock, I was too busy answering the wrong one. I’d let that bitch blow it all up with one well-timed kiss and a vindictive little smirk.
I threw the now-empty bottle in the sink, shattering it, thinking it must look an awful lot like Sadie's heart right now.