One Ex, Over Easy #2
Despite being off-kilter, I was drawn inside by the siren’s call.
I opened the door, and there she was. Sadie Rose Shepard.
The sight of her at our family kitchen table nearly knocked me over, even though I’d spent the night prepping myself for exactly this moment.
It was a sight I’d seen a thousand times over the years we were together.
She looked identical and yet a dozen years older and a thousand miles more complicated.
Same thick dark hair falling around her face, same hands wrapping tight around a coffee mug, but there was a watchful set to her jaw now, a glimmer of armor I hadn’t seen before.
Had Sadie stayed at the ranch the night before? She must have. When she left the reception to go to the hospital, I thought that meant she was gone. It didn’t occur to me she might be staying here.
The dogs noticed me first and rushed up to greet me.
My mom had five domestic animals: a cat named Banjo, who was a terror, two German Shepherds named Ranger and Rex, and two golden Labs named Lady and Duchess.
All four dogs abandoned their posts begging for food and rushed towards me for scritches.
I bent down and gave them each good scratches behind their ears.
“Good morning, honey,” Mom chirped cheerily, and then, to Sadie, “I don’t know why he’s their favorite. I walk them, feed them, play with them… it has to be an alpha thing.”
Animals and babies had always gravitated towards me, from the time I was a kid. I couldn’t explain it. Some people said it was a pheromone thing, others, like Mom, claimed it was my alpha-energy. I think they just sensed I wasn’t a dick.
I straightened to a standing position. “Right, and you’re not alpha?” I teased.
Mom grinned, and her eyes narrowed. “Okay, then I think you have hidden chicken in your pockets.”
I walked over, leaned down, and kissed my mom on the top of her head. “Whatever you need to believe to make you feel better.”
My mom swatted me playfully on the arm, and Sadie’s eyes flicked up to mine.
They were still that ridiculous shade of sea-glass blue.
As soon as our gazes locked, I felt something in the center of my chest crumble, perhaps the walls of protection I’d attempted to build.
It had been over a decade since we were together, but it was like I’d never built up any callus.
“Morning.” She smiled.
“Morning,” I managed to speak over my heart, which had lodged itself somewhere above my collarbone.
I was doing my level best not to stare, or drool, but Sadie just sat there at the table, framed perfectly by the window, the soft golden light of morning slanting across her hair in a way that made her look both breathtakingly familiar and impossibly out of reach.
It was like déjà vu, times a thousand, and yet—something was off.
Her shoulders were hunched, her gaze fixed on the swirling cream in her coffee, and even her breath seemed held, waiting for the next blow.
Mom bustled between us, pouring water into a kettle, flipping omelets, the very picture of orchestrated hospitality.
But her eyes kept darting—not just at me, but between us, as if she could bridge the entire chasm of history with enough French toast and maple sausage.
She started talking, fast, her hands moving even faster.
“I was going to run Sadie to the hospital,” she began, “but I forgot I promised the Miller’s I’d drop off dog food at their place before ten because Betty is still recovering from her hip surgery and they have all those rescues—”
“I can call an Uber,” Sadie cut in, her voice crisp and businesslike.
She stood, chair scraping across the tile, and reached for her bag.
Today, instead of a blue summer dress she wore a white V-neck T-shirt and blue jeans.
She looked just as, if not more beautiful in her casual clothes.
Her stance was defensive, like she expected me to lunge or argue, but all I could do was watch the way the sunlight caught the gold flecks in her hair.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mom snapped, her voice sharp in that way that only mothers of four boys can manage. “You think I’m going to let you get into some stranger’s car when there’s a perfectly good Lockhart here to drive you?” She shot me a look, all but daring me to refuse. “Dawson can take you.”
I stood there, mouth slightly open, and tried to make my brain work.
I wanted to say something—anything—but every possible word felt like a landmine.
I couldn’t say, “I missed you,” or “Please don’t leave again,” or even just, “Good morning.” Instead, I nodded, and the motion felt like it belonged to someone else.
“Oh, and I’ll have your bags moved into cabin ten once the Hope Falls guests have checked out this afternoon.”
“You don’t have to—”
My mom lifted her hand like she was one of The Supremes telling Sadie to stop in the name of love. “This is not up for discussion, mija.”
I could see a battle happening behind Sadie’s gorgeous baby blues. Ultimately, she did the right thing. She may have been MIA for a dozen years, but she remembered arguing with Selma Montez-Lockhart was an exercise in futility.
Instead, she said a simple, “Thank you,” shouldered her bag, and headed toward the door. I watched her slip past the kitchen island, the distance between us growing with each step. Her movements were so quick, they practically left afterimages.
Mom was having none of it. She blocked the exit with a skillet in one hand and a dish towel in the other, like a linebacker dressed for brunch. “Dawson will take you.”
I found myself obeying before I could think to resist. I caught up with Sadie at the mudroom, where she was shoving her arms into a faded green jacket.
She still didn’t look at me. Her jaw was set, and there was a tightness in her posture I didn’t recognize, like she’d been training for years to avoid me with the least possible effort.
“Can I give you a ride?” I asked, finally finding my voice, but it sounded rusty and unused. I was smart enough to know that just because she acquiesced in front of my mom, did not mean she would comply away from her.
She looked up then, and for a split second, the armor fell away. There was curiosity behind her eyes, but also something much harder, something like fear, or maybe anger, or maybe just exhaustion. Then it was gone, and she was back to Sadie Version 2.0, the older, more guarded version.
“It’s fine,” she said. “You don’t have to play chauffeur. Really.”
“I want to,” I admitted, and immediately hated how desperate it sounded. But it was true. I wanted to be near her, to make up for every single thing I’d broken, even if it was just for the drive.