Chapter 14 Axel
Axel
Islip into Adrienne's office, closing the door behind me with a soft click. She glances up from her desk, glasses perched on her nose, and raises an eyebrow.
"To what do I owe this visit?" she asks, setting aside a stack of legal briefs. "Let me guess, more custody questions?"
"Actually, I wanted to thank you." I drop into the chair across from her. "Sadie got the referral to Melissa. They have a call scheduled tomorrow."
Adrienne nods, leaning back in her chair. "Good. Melissa doesn't waste time, that's why I recommended her."
I fiddle with the pen on her desk, suddenly feeling like a teenager again. "I, uh, also asked her out."
"Asked who out?" Adrienne's eyes narrow. "Melissa?"
"Sadie." I laugh, shaking my head. "I asked Sadie to lunch."
"Bold move, considering everything she's dealing with." Her tone is carefully neutral, but I catch the concern in her eyes.
I shrug, aiming for casual. "Just lunch. No pressure. She needs a break from all the court stuff."
Adrienne studies me for a long moment, and I try not to fidget under her gaze. "This isn't just about lunch, is it?"
"What do you mean?"
"You've got that look," she says, gesturing at my face. "The one you get when you're pretending something matters less than it does."
I open my mouth to deny it, but the words die in my throat. There's no point lying to Adrienne; she's always seen right through me.
"Fine," I admit. "It's not just lunch. I like her. A lot."
"I figured," she says dryly. "You wouldn't be moving heaven and earth for an Oregon lawyer referral if this was just another fling."
"It's not." The words come out more forcefully than I intend. "She's different."
Adrienne leans forward, resting her elbows on her desk. "Different how?"
I struggle to explain without revealing too much of Sadie's private business.
"She's… fighting. Every day. For her kid, for her business, for some kind of stability. And she never asks for help, even when she's drowning."
"And you want to save her," Adrienne says softly, not quite a question.
"No." I meet her eyes. "I mean, yes, I want to help. But I'm not trying to be some hero swooping in. I just… I can't stand by and watch her struggle alone when there are things I can do."
My sister's expression softens. "That's actually more mature than I expected from you."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I mutter.
"I'm serious." She folds her hands. "But Axel? Be careful. Helping can turn into overstepping really fast, especially when someone's as independent as Sadie seems to be. If she feels cornered or like you're trying to control things—"
"I won't," I interrupt. "I'm letting her lead. Whatever she needs, however she wants to handle this, it's her call."
"That's easy to say now," Adrienne warns. "Not so easy when you're watching someone you care about make choices you don't agree with."
My jaw tightens. I don’t like anyone telling me to hold back, especially not when it comes to Sadie.
But Adrienne’s right. I’m wired to take control.
Fix. Protect. It’s what I do, and it’s dangerous with a woman like Sadie.
If I push, I’ll break her trust. Doesn’t mean I’m going to stand by and let her drown.
"I'll be careful," I promise. "I just want to give her breathing room. A few hours where she's not thinking about court dates or custody battles."
Adrienne nods, seemingly satisfied. "For what it's worth, I hope it works out. You seem… different about her."
My phone vibrates. I expect brewery bullshit, but then I see her name. My gut goes tight. Just that. One text from her, and I’m already half-hard, already planning how I’ll get my hands on her tonight.
Sadie: Sooo… about that date?
Something warm blooms in my chest. I can't help the idiotic grin spreading across my face as I read her message again.
"Let me guess," Adrienne says, watching my expression change. "Sadie?"
I nod, still staring at my phone like it might disappear if I look away.
"Go." She waves me toward the door. "And remember what I said."
"I will," I promise, already typing my response as I stand.
Me: Tell me what feels safe. I'll build it around you.
I slip my phone back into my pocket, that stupid grin still plastered across my face.
"Thanks, Adrienne. For everything."
She shakes her head, but she's smiling too. "Just be careful with her, Axel. And with yourself."
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, checking my watch for the fifth time in as many minutes.
It's ridiculous, this feeling in my chest, like I'm fifteen again, picking up a date for the school dance.
I've planned every detail to make this as comfortable as possible for Sadie: early dinner at the ranch lookout, just the two of us. Simple, low pressure, safe.
When I pull up to the café, she's already waiting on the steps, and my breath catches. She’s in jeans that cling like a second skin to her hips, legs that make me want to lay her out right here and work every inch with my hands.
That sweatshirt is soft, but the way it falls off her shoulder makes me want to bite that exposed skin.
She looks young, effortless, addictive. My body reacts before my brain can catch up. Every part of me wants to touch her.
I hop out of the truck and walk around to meet her. "Hey," I say, unable to keep the smile from my face.
"Hey yourself," she replies, a shy smile playing at her lips.
"You have no idea how hard it is to not touch you right now," I say, voice low. "You walk out here in those jeans, looking like that, and you expect me to behave myself?"
A blush creeps across her cheeks. "It's just jeans and a sweatshirt."
"Still." I reach for her hand, giving her plenty of time to pull away. She doesn't.
I lead her to the passenger side, opening the door and helping her up into the seat.
I lean in, taking her mouth with a slow, deliberate kiss.
I keep it brief, but there’s nothing soft in the way I claim her lips.
It’s a warning to myself—one taste, for now.
The urge to shove her against the truck and take more burns through my veins, but I rein it in.
Not here. Not yet. Her eyes flutter closed for a brief second, and when I pull back, her smile has deepened.
"What was that for?" she asks.
"Because I wanted to," I answer simply. "And because I've been thinking about doing it again since I left your apartment."
I close her door and circle around to the driver's side, giving us both a moment to breathe. When I slide behind the wheel, she's looking out the window, but I catch the reflection of her smile in the glass.
"So, where are we going?" she asks as I pull away from the curb.
"Thought I'd show you around the ranch," I say, keeping my voice casual. "There's this spot up on the ridge that overlooks the whole valley. Best view in Virginia Dale."
"Sounds nice." She relaxes into the seat, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "I haven't been anywhere but the café and my apartment in… too long."
I take the long way, driving down winding back roads where trees arch overhead and sunlight dapples through the leaves. We talk about nothing important—the weather, the changing leaves, funny café customers. I'm careful not to push, letting her set the pace of conversation.
"This is beautiful," she says as we drive through a particularly scenic stretch. "I forget sometimes how pretty it is out here."
"That's the problem with running a business," I tell her. "You get so caught up in the day-to-day you miss everything around you."
She nods, looking out the window. "Exactly."
When we reach the ranch, I bypass the main house and drive up the dirt road that leads to the ridge. The family property stretches out below us, acres of land, the brewery buildings nestled in the valley, the small lake glittering in the afternoon sun.
I park at the lookout point and go around to open her door. She takes my offered hand, stepping down from the truck. For a moment, she just stands there, taking in the view, her face tilted up to catch the breeze.
"This is…" she breathes, eyes wide. "Wow."
"Pretty good, right?" I smile, watching her instead of the view.
I pull a basket from behind the seat and lead her to a flat rock overlooking the valley. Inside is a simple picnic of sandwiches, fruit, and a bottle of sparkling cider.
"Nothing fancy," I say, spreading a blanket over the rock. "Just thought it might be nice to eat up here."
She drops down next to me, her knee brushing mine. I feel it all the way up my thigh. The air between us tightens. I want to pull her closer, drag her into my lap, but I hold still. Let her come to me. Still, every inch of her in my peripheral vision is a fucking distraction.
"It's perfect."
We eat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sun start its slow descent toward the horizon. Eventually, she turns to me, curiosity in her eyes.
"So, what was it like? Growing up here?"
I laugh, surprised by the question.
"Chaotic. Beautiful. Loud." I gesture toward the sprawling property.
"A lot of damn kids, parents who worked all hours expanding the brewery, grandparents living in the main house, never a quiet moment."
"Sounds overwhelming."
"It was sometimes." I pick up a grape, rolling it between my fingers.
"But there was so much love, you know? Even when we were driving each other crazy, there was never any doubt that we belonged to each other."
She's quiet, and I wonder if I've said too much, made her uncomfortable with my family stories when her own situation is so complicated.
"What about you?" I ask gently. "What was your childhood like?"
She tenses slightly but doesn't shut down. "Quieter than yours, I imagine. Just Rowan and me—and our mom. Dad left when I was four."
"I'm sorry," I say, meaning it.
"Don't be." She shrugs, but there's weight in the gesture. "It was fine. Mom did her best."