Chapter 30
Axel
Iguide Sadie through the hotel lobby with my arm around her shoulders, keeping her steady.
The security team flanks us discreetly, creating a protective bubble that allows us to move through the space without anyone approaching.
Poppy dozes against Sadie's chest, completely unaware of the monumental shift that's just occurred in her young life.
The elevator ride is silent. Sadie stares straight ahead, her body rigid under my arm.
She's holding it together through sheer willpower, the same strength that got her through the confrontation with Elliot.
But I can feel the fine tremors starting, the way her breathing hitches slightly every few seconds.
When we reach our suite, I unlock the door and usher her inside, nodding to the security team who will remain stationed in the hallway all night. The moment the door clicks shut behind us, leaving us truly alone for the first time since the parking lot, Sadie's composure crumbles.
It starts with her hands. They begin to shake so violently she can barely hold Poppy. I move instantly, taking the baby from her arms just as her knees give out.
"I've got her," I say softly, cradling Poppy against my shoulder. "I've got you both."
Sadie drops onto the mattress, her body shaking so hard it pisses me off that I can’t fix this for her. Her lips tremble, tears tracking down her cheeks, and all I can think about is wrapping her up, anchoring her, making sure no one ever touches her again.
I lay Poppy gently in the travel crib we set up earlier, tucking her blanket around her. She stirs slightly but doesn't wake, exhausted from the long, emotional day.
When I turn back, Sadie is hunched forward, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to physically hold herself together. Her face is pale, tears still falling unchecked.
I force myself to stay back, every instinct screaming to haul her onto my lap.
Instead, I drop to my knees, eye level with her, close enough to smell her shampoo, close enough I could take her face in my hands and make her look at me, make her remember who the hell she belongs to now.
Her gaze is vacant, lost. I patiently wait until she comes back to me.
"Let me take your coat," I say, keeping my voice low and steady.
She nods again, unable to speak as I help her out of her jacket. Her skin is cold to the touch, clammy with the aftermath of fear and confrontation.
"I'm going to get you some water," I tell her, squeezing her hands gently before standing.
I fill a glass from the bathroom sink, giving her a moment of privacy while keeping her in my line of sight. When I return, she's still sitting exactly where I left her, but her breathing has slowed slightly. Progress.
"Small sips," I instruct, pressing the glass into her hands and steadying it when her fingers tremble too much to hold it properly.
She obeys, drinking mechanically. A tear slips down her jaw, and I wipe it away, my thumb dragging slowly over her skin. Her cheek is cold.
"You're safe," I remind her, kneeling in front of her again. "Poppy's safe. It's over."
Her eyes finally focus on mine, recognition dawning. "We did it," she whispers, her voice cracking. "He's gone."
"He's gone," I confirm, taking the glass and setting it aside. "And he's never coming back."
A fresh wave of tears spills over, but these are different. These are from relief, not terror. I gather her hands in mine, rubbing warmth back into her cold fingers.
"I'm sorry," she manages between shaky breaths. "I don't know why I'm falling apart now when it's finally over—"
"Don't apologize," I interrupt gently. "Your body held it together when you needed it to. Now it's letting go. It's normal."
She nods, leaning forward until her forehead rests against mine. I can feel her breath against my face, the slight hitch as she tries to steady herself.
"I've never seen anyone as brave as you were tonight," I tell her, one hand moving to cup her cheek. "Standing up to him like that. Taking back your power."
Her eyes close at my words, more tears slipping free. I brush them away with my thumb, my heart aching at everything she's endured.
"I meant what I said in the parking lot," I whisper. "I love you, Sadie. Have for a while now."
Her eyes open, meeting mine with a vulnerability that steals my breath. "Say it again," she whispers.
"I love you." The words come easily, naturally. "Every stubborn, brave, beautiful part of you."
She makes a small sound, half laugh, half sob, and suddenly her arms are around my neck, her face buried against my shoulder. I hold her tightly, one hand cradling the back of her head as she clings to me.
"I love you too," she says against my neck, her voice muffled but clear. "God, I love you so much it scares me."
I pull back just enough to see her face, to make sure she sees mine when I say, "Nothing about us should scare you. Not ever."
Her hands frame my face, trembling slightly as her thumbs trace my cheekbones.
"I didn't think I'd ever feel safe with someone again," she admits. "Didn't think I could trust anyone enough to love them."
"I know." I turn my head slightly to press a kiss to her palm. "That makes it all the more precious that you trust me."
She leans forward, pressing her lips to mine in a kiss that's gentle at first, almost hesitant.
But when I respond, one hand sliding into her hair to cradle her head, something shifts.
The kiss deepens, turns desperate, like she's trying to pour everything she can't say into the connection between us.
She kisses me like she’s drowning, fingers clawing at my shirt, her body pressed so tight against mine I can feel every frantic beat of her heart. It’s needy, wild, and it slams straight into my gut. When she pulls back, her eyes are wide, filled with a different kind of fear.
"What if they still try to take her from me?" she whispers, her voice breaking on the words.
I don't launch into reassurances or promises I can't guarantee. Instead, I take her hands in mine, my thumbs stroking over her knuckles.
"Elliot signed the papers," I say quietly. "We have the recording of his plans to kidnap Poppy. We have the evidence of his fraud in three states." I keep my voice steady, factual.
"The security team is right outside that door—and they'll stay there all night."
I press my forehead against hers, creating a small, private space just for us. Her breathing is still too fast, too shallow.
"You're a good mother, Sadie. You've done nothing wrong." I move one hand to her back, rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades. "Everything you've done has been to protect Poppy."
Her shoulders remain rigid under my touch, her body still locked in fight-or-flight mode. I don't push, don't rush. Just keep that steady, gentle pressure on her back, our foreheads touching, our breath mingling.
"What happens tomorrow?" she asks, her voice small but steadier.
"Whatever you decide," I tell her. "We can stay in Portland and file the papers with the court. We can go straight to the airport and fly home. We can drive to the coast and watch the ocean for a day. Your choice. All of it."
Something in her loosens at that, the tiniest release of tension. I feel it under my palm, the slight softening of rigid muscle.
"I want to go home," she whispers. "Back to Virginia Dale. Back to the café. Back to normal."
"Then that's what we'll do."
I pull her gently against my chest, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other still making those slow, steady circles on her back. Her arms wrap around my waist, hesitant at first, then tightening as she melts into the embrace.
We stay like that for long minutes, the only sound in the room our breathing and Poppy's soft snores from the travel crib. Gradually, Sadie's breathing slows to match mine. Her shoulders drop from their defensive hunch. The trembling in her limbs subsides.
I watch her come back to herself, bit by bit. The fear doesn't disappear, I'm not naive enough to think one confrontation can erase years of trauma, but it recedes, becomes manageable again.
"Better?" I ask quietly when I feel her fully relax against me.
She nods against my chest. "Better."
When she pulls back to look at me, her eyes are clearer, more present. She reaches up, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw with a tenderness that makes my heart ache.
"Thank you," she says simply. "For everything."
"No thanks needed."
Her hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me down until our lips meet again. This kiss is different, not desperate but deliberate. Slow. Purposeful. Her mouth opens under mine, her tongue teasing along the seam of my lips until I grant her access with a low groan.
My hands find her waist, steadying her as she rises to her knees on the bed, bringing our bodies flush against each other.
"I need you," she whispers against my lips. "I need to feel you."
I draw back, holding her jaw, searching her eyes. My voice comes out rough, low. "Tell me you want this."
She doesn’t answer, just slides her hands to my buttons. Her fingers work steadily, but her eyes stay locked on mine, daring me to stop her, to take control like she knows I want to. I let her undress me, my hands curling tight on her hips, ready to take over if she falters.
"I've never been more sure of anything," she says, her palms sliding over my bare chest with deliberate slowness.
I take her mouth, plunging my tongue deep, my hands greedy as they slide under her sweater, needing skin, needing proof she’s really here, really choosing me.
I pull back just long enough to lift it over her head, revealing the simple cotton bra beneath.
No lace, no fancy lingerie, just Sadie, real and unadorned and perfect.
“Look at me. You have no idea what you do to me.” My voice rumbles, all grit and ownership.