Chapter 7
chapter seven
Sadie
Life with Brock feels almost perfect these days.
I wake up slowly most mornings, warm and heavy under the thick quilt, with his big arm draped across my waist and his breath stirring the hair at the back of my neck.
The house has started to feel like ours, my toothbrush sits next to his in the holder, my favorite oversized sweater hangs on the hook by the door right beside his flannel.
I move through the rooms without thinking now, knowing exactly which cabinet holds the plates and which drawer has the extra batteries.
It doesn’t surprise me anymore how natural it all feels. I belong here with him.
This morning I stand barefoot in the kitchen, sipping coffee and watching him through the window.
He’s out back splitting firewood again. His dark flannel pulls tight across his broad shoulders every time he swings the axe.
The silver at his temples catches the early sunlight.
I smile into my mug, feeling that familiar warmth bloom through my chest.
He pauses, wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, and glances toward the house.
When he sees me watching, he gives me that small, private grin that still makes my stomach do a slow flip.
He sets the axe against the chopping block and heads inside, stamping his boots on the mat before stepping through the door.
“Morning, Red,” he says, his voice still rough from sleep. He walks straight to me and pulls me against his chest. His skin feels cool from the outside air, but his body radiates heat. I set my coffee down and wrap my arms around his waist.
“Morning,” I murmur against his flannel. “You were up early again.”
“Wanted to get some work done before the day got away from us.” He kisses the top of my head, then tilts my chin up so he can kiss me properly. Slow and deep, the kind of kiss that makes my toes curl against the wooden floor. When he pulls back, his hazel eyes are soft. “You sleep okay?”
I nod and run my hands up his chest. “Better than okay. I always sleep better when you’re next to me.”
We move around the kitchen together, falling into the easy rhythm we’ve built over the past weeks.
He cracks eggs into the pan while I slide bread into the toaster.
When I reach for the butter, I brush against him on purpose, and he catches my hip with one big hand, pulling me close for another quick kiss.
Over breakfast, we talk about nothing important, what we need from the grocery store, whether he has to go into the station later, if we should take a walk down by the lake this evening. Every ordinary moment feels precious.
After we finish eating, we head into town. Brock needs a few supplies from the hardware store, and I want to pick up some pastries from the little café on the corner. The bell above the door jingles when we step inside. Martha, the woman behind the counter, spots us right away and waves.
“Morning, you two,” she calls out. “The usual today?”
Brock nods and orders his black coffee. I get my latte and two blueberry muffins to share.
We carry our drinks and the warm bag of pastries to a small table by the window.
Sunlight streams in and pools across the wooden surface.
Brock stretches his long legs out under the table and rests his hand on my knee, his thumb stroking slow circles over my jeans. I cover his hand with mine and squeeze.
The words I’ve been carrying around for days rise up in my throat. I take a sip of my latte to steady myself, then set the cup down carefully. “Brock, I need to tell you something.”
He turns toward me fully, his expression patient and open. “I’m right here. Take your time.”
I look at his face, at the fine lines around his eyes and the steady way he watches me, and the words come easier than I expected. “I love you. I’m in love with you. It happened somewhere between you carrying me out of that fire and making me coffee every morning and just... being you. I love you.”
For a second he goes completely still. Then his face softens in a way I’ve never seen before.
His eyes warm and the corner of his mouth lifts into something tender and unguarded.
He leans across the table and kisses me right there in the middle of the café.
The kiss starts gentle but quickly deepens.
His hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair.
When he finally pulls back, his voice comes out low and rough with emotion.
“I love you too, Sadie. Have for a while now. I was just waiting for you to be ready to hear it.”
My chest feels so full I can barely breathe.
I kiss him again, tasting coffee and the sweetness of the moment.
We sit there for a few more minutes just smiling at each other like fools, our muffins forgotten.
Eventually we finish our drinks and step back outside into the bright afternoon.
Brock laces his fingers through mine as we walk down the sidewalk, and everything feels brighter, sharper, more alive.
The town sounds livelier. I’m in love and it doesn’t scare me one bit.
“I need to run into the bookstore for a minute,” I tell him. “I’ll meet you at the truck.”
He kisses my forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Take your time. I’ll be right down the block at the hardware store.”
I watch him walk away for a second, admiring the way he moves, then slip into the bookstore.
I browse the shelves slowly, picking up a new mystery novel and flipping through the pages.
The quiet hum of the shop feels peaceful after the noise outside.
I pay for the book and step back onto the sidewalk, paper bag in hand.
The peace shatters the moment I glance across the street.
Ryan stands there leaning against a lamppost, wearing the same kind of button-down shirt he always favored, his hair neatly combed.
He smiles at me like we’re old friends. Like nothing ever happened between us.
My stomach drops. My hands go ice cold around the book bag, the paper crinkling under my grip. I can’t make my feet move.
He starts crossing the street toward me, his steps casual, unhurried. “Sadie. There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you, sweetheart.”
Before I can respond, Brock appears at my side. He must have seen my face from down the block because he’s moving fast, closing the distance in seconds. His hand settles firmly on my lower back, warm and solid. I lean into him immediately, drawing strength from his presence.
Ryan stops a few feet away, his eyes flicking between us. “Who’s this?”
Brock’s voice comes out low and even, but I feel the tension coiled in his body. “I’m the man who’s going to make sure you leave her alone. Sadie doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Ryan ignores him completely, keeping his gaze locked on me.
“I was so worried when you disappeared like that. No note. No call. I drove all the way up here to check on you.” His voice softens, takes on that reasonable tone I know too well.
“We can work through whatever’s going on.
Just come home with me and we’ll fix it. ”
The concern in his voice sounds so genuine it makes my skin crawl. I grip the back of Brock’s shirt tighter. “I am home, Ryan. I’m staying here in Silver Lake. With Brock. We’re done. I ended things months ago.”
Brock shifts slightly so he’s standing more fully between us, his shoulders somehow looking even broader. “You heard her. She said no. Get back in your truck and drive out of town. Don’t come near her again.”
Ryan’s friendly smile slips for just a moment. Something colder flashes in his eyes. Then the smile returns. “You don’t know her the way I do, friend. She gets scared sometimes. She runs. But she always comes back to me eventually.”
I feel Brock’s muscles tighten under my hand. “She’s not running anymore. She’s exactly where she wants to be. Leave.”
Ryan looks at me one last time. His eyes linger on my face like he’s memorizing every detail. “This isn’t over, Sadie. We’ll see each other again. Soon.”
He turns and walks back across the street.
I watch him climb into his dark truck and pull away from the curb.
My legs feel shaky. Brock immediately turns and pulls me into his chest right there on the sidewalk.
His arms wrap around me tight. One hand strokes up and down my back while the other cradles the back of my head.
“You did good,” he murmurs against my hair. “You told him exactly how it is. He’s gone for now.”
I nod against his flannel, but I can’t speak yet.
My heart still pounds hard against my ribs.
I thought I’d put enough distance between us.
I thought Silver Lake would be far enough away that he’d never find me.
But I was wrong. He just stood right there and smiled like we were picking up where we left off. Like my no didn’t matter at all.
Brock holds me until my breathing starts to slow. Then he leans back just enough to tip my chin up so our eyes meet. “He won’t touch you. I meant every word I said. You’re safe with me, Sadie. Always.”
I believe him. I let him guide me back to the truck with his arm around my shoulders the whole way.
Once we’re inside, he starts the engine but doesn’t pull away right away.
He reaches over and takes my hand, lacing our fingers together.
We sit there in silence for a minute while I pull myself together.
When we get back to the house, he makes me a cup of tea without asking.
He brings it to the couch where I've curled up and sits right beside me.
I sip slowly, trying to calm the tremor in my hands.
Seeing him again, seeing Ryan smile like that, like he hadn't spent months terrorizing me, it shook something loose inside me.
"I'm okay," I say finally, though we both know it's not entirely true. "Just... I didn't expect to see him. Not here."