22. Chapter 22
twenty-two
Sadie
Iusually loved Sundays. Slow mornings, lots of coffee, usually a trip to the grocery store, which usually led to lots of new inspiration for the following week’s goodies.
But today I had other plans.
I decided to dress to kill.
I put on a pair of skin-tight black pants that highlighted allllll my assets—a red peasant top, with a matching head scarf, and lipstick. Sharp black winged liner and my black Mary janes put the final touch.
I made sure my hips swayed with the confidence I wasn’t sure I felt, but no one needed to know that.
I waited until late, after the sun started slipping down. I told myself I came now because I knew he’d be alone. But really, it was because I needed the distance. From Amy, from the bakery, from the too-sweet smiles of people who thought they knew the whole story.
I crossed the street slowly, the click of my Mary Janes against the asphalt sounding too loud in the quiet.
The garage door was open halfway. Diesel was under the hood of something with a busted engine and a bad attitude, his shoulders hunched and glistening with sweat.
He didn’t look up right away. But I saw the moment he realized it was me.
He froze. Wiped his hands on a rag that didn’t help. His mouth opened, then shut again. His usual scowl softened—but only a little.
“Sadie.”
I nodded once. Didn’t smile.
“I’m not here to make a scene,” I said, voice steady even though my ribs felt cracked open.
He tossed the rag onto the workbench, gaze wary. “Didn’t think you would.”
“I’m not here to fight. Or to ask for anything.” I stepped inside, just enough that the scent of oil and motor grease wrapped around me like smoke. “I just need to say something. And then I’ll go.”
He watched me like I was a ticking bomb he didn’t know how to disarm.
I didn’t give him a chance to cut me off.
“I spent a long time being the kind of girl people expected. The one who says yes, who keeps things sweet, who never takes up too much space. I thought if I were easy to love, someone would actually do it.”
His jaw clenched. He looked down, but I kept going.
“But I’ve realized… I don’t want to be easy to love. I want to be chosen. Loudly. Consistently. I want someone who doesn’t flinch when things get messy. Who doesn’t pull away when I get too real? Someone who doesn’t make me feel like I’m too much or not enough depending on the day.”
I looked him straight in the eyes then.
“That’s not what this has been.”
Something flickered across his face—pain, guilt, maybe both.
“I get it,” I said softly. “You’ve got your past. Your reasons. I’m not here to rip that open. But I can’t keep waiting for you to decide if I’m worth the risk. Because that’s not fair to me.”
I turned then. Meant to leave and meant to hold my ground.
But his voice stopped me cold.
“She used to tell me no one else would ever put up with me.”
I froze, breath caught in my chest. I couldn't help but turn back.
He stepped forward, slower than usual, as if he wasn’t sure his legs would hold him.
“Jessie,” he said, like the name tasted like rust and regret. “She’d leave, cheat, lie—then come back like nothing happened. And every time, I let her. Because I thought… maybe she was right. Maybe this was all I was good for.”
He scrubbed a hand down his face.
“I was a different man back then. Meaner. Selfish. Not proud of the shit I did to keep her around, or the things I let her say to me. But when she finally left for good, I told myself I’d never be that guy again. Never let someone get close enough to undo me.”
His eyes met mine. Unflinching. Raw.
“And then you showed up with your damn pink frosting and those goddamn sparkly shoes. Acting like the world was still worth smiling about. You made me want things I’d buried. Things I didn’t think I deserved.”
He stepped closer. Voice is low and cracking.
“So I kept you at arm’s length. Thought if I didn’t touch it, I couldn’t ruin it. But all I did was hurt you anyway.”
My throat burned. My hands shook.
“You did,” I whispered.
He nodded once. “I know.”
Silence stretched. Not comfortable. Not hostile. Just… heavy.
Then he said, “Then she showed up again. She came to see if I would take her back, and I didn’t let her in, not really.
But it brought some of it back, you know.
Some of the old doubts. Maybe she was the best I could have.
The only person I deserved. But after she threatened you, I told her to fuck off. ”
He sighed, then continued, “I didn’t kiss her back. When you saw her kissing me, she knew you were there and she just… did it.”
He looked at me then, and for once, there was nothing hard or distant in his eyes—just him.
“But I’m not that man anymore, Sadie. I don’t want to be.” There was a long, loaded pause. “ And I don’t want you to let go.”
I swallowed hard. I didn’t know what I’d expected—an apology, maybe. A half-truth, another wall. But not this.
Not the quiet wreckage in his voice.
Not the way he was looking at me like he finally saw what he’d broken.
“I don’t want to let go either,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “But I have to know I’m not going to lose myself again.”
His shoulders dropped, like my words punched the wind out of him. But he didn’t argue. Didn’t try to fix it with promises that came too easily.
Instead, he stepped closer.
“I can’t promise I’ll never mess up,” he said. “But I can promise I won’t shut you out again. I’ll show up, Sadie, even when it’s hard. Especially then.”
I blinked fast, but the tears still came, blurring the grease-streaked walls behind him.
“I’m scared,” I admitted. “Because I meant it. When I said I’d let you go. I wasn’t bluffing.”
“I know.” His voice was rough. “But I’m asking you not to.”
My heart thudded in my chest, a mix of hope and fear doing battle inside my ribcage.
And then, soft as a prayer, I asked, “What now?”
He stepped forward and took my hand, hesitant and thoughtful. Like he wasn’t sure he had the right.
“That depends,” he said. “Do you want to come inside? We can talk. Or not talk. We can just… be. And figure it out from there.”
I stared down at our hands. His fingers were calloused and stained, but they trembled just the same as mine.
“Okay,” I whispered.
Because for the first time, I wasn’t shrinking.
I was choosing.
And this time, he was choosing me back.