Chapter 12 #3
He looked resolved.
“Beth,” he said, loud enough that the music didn’t drown him out. “I’m out.”
She blinked, confused. “What? What do you mean you’re out?”
He ran a hand through his hair, breath coming fast.
“I can’t do this. I haven’t had much to drink, and they really need me. I can’t be here all night having fun while my crew’s out there risking their lives.”
She reached for him. “Wait—”
He stepped back.
“If I leave now, I can still get out there. The fire’s not going anywhere, and even if it’s contained, they’ll need relief. If anything else happens, I need to be on call.”
There was no anger in his voice.
Just conviction.
Before Beth could say another word, he was gone—slipping through the club doors like he’d never planned to stay.
The looks came immediately. Pity. Awkward sympathy. The kind that made Beth’s shoulders curl inward like she wanted to disappear.
Sage leaned toward me and muttered, “Dick,” under her breath.
Then she didn’t wait.
She grabbed Beth’s hand, pulling her close.
“I’m telling you right now—break up with him. Right now.”
Beth stared at her. “What? No. He’s a good guy. He’s fighting fires. It’s not like he’s out chasing other girls.”
Sage’s smile was thin. Controlled. Her eyes didn’t soften.
“We’ll talk when we get back to Boston,” she said calmly. “You and me. Next week. We’re going out.”
It wasn’t a suggestion.
Beth nodded, stunned, like she’d just been assigned homework she didn’t remember signing up for.
I watched it all from a step back—how quickly Sage stepped in, how decisively she reframed the moment.
Not comfort.
Direction.
I told myself she was just being protective.
Just strong.
Just decisive in a way some people admired.
But the image stuck with me: Beth reaching out, and Sage pulling her somewhere else entirely.
Later, as the night thinned and the music blurred, I felt Sage’s hand slide into mine, fingers locking tight.
“Don’t worry,” she said lightly. “She’ll be fine.”
I nodded.
But I wasn’t so sure.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, a quiet thought took shape—small, unwelcome, and persistent:
Sage didn’t just step in when people were vulnerable.
She took over.
Everyone else was asleep.
The house had settled into that deep, post-club silence—doors shut, bodies sprawled wherever they landed, the bass from the night still humming faintly in my ears.
I lay there staring at the ceiling, Sage warm against my side, her breathing slow and even.
I couldn’t sleep.
I slipped out of bed carefully, grabbed my cigarettes and a warm beer from the kitchen, and stepped outside onto the deck.
The surf pounded steadily in the distance, a low, relentless rhythm. Salt hung thick in the air, clinging to my skin.
Beth was already there.
She sat on the stoop with her knees pulled in, a cigarette glowing between her fingers. Fireworks still popped off in the distance. The multicolored sparks lit up the sky before fading out and falling.
“Hey,” she said quietly.
“Hey,” I answered, settling beside her. “Looks like the two of us can’t sleep.”
She gave a small, tired smile.
We smoked in silence for a moment, the night wrapping around us.
Then the words came out before I could stop them.
“Beth… something weird happened tonight.”
She leaned in, listening.
I told her about the guy at the bar—the stare, the way he knew Sage’s name, the way he said they’d been engaged. As I spoke, the story sounded stranger out loud than it had in my head.
Beth frowned.
“That’s weird. Because she grabbed me out of nowhere on the dance floor and dragged me to the bathroom. I thought maybe she’d seen an ex or something.”
She took another drag.
“Something spooked her. She was weird all night. There were girls staring at her—like they knew her—but no one said anything. Just… cagey.”
I exhaled slowly.
“Yeah. I mean, she told me she was engaged before. So it’s not like she lied. And she lived in New York. Everyone from New York comes to the Hamptons in the summer.”
I shrugged. “Small world, right?”
Beth nodded, though she didn’t look convinced.
“She’s been really nice to me, Ethan. Really nice. I’ve never had a friend like her before.”
I smiled faintly. “Yeah. Never had a girlfriend like her before.”
She raised a brow. “She gets jealous.”
“Sometimes,” I said. “But that’s normal when you’re crazy about someone, right?”
Beth considered that. “I guess.”
I took another sip of beer.
“She’s just… intense. I’m head over heels. Totally.”
We fell quiet again, smoke curling into the dark.
Then the door creaked open.
I felt it before I saw her.
Sage stood there, framed by the light from inside, eyes scanning the scene. Her smile was soft—but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“What’s going on out here?” she asked.
Beth spoke first.
“I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been calling my boyfriend, but he’s not answering. I just… He’s my first everything. I already pictured us—dating a year, getting engaged, moving to Wakefield, maybe a condo. I don’t know what happens now.”
For a moment, real sympathy filled Sage’s face.
She walked over and sat down—directly between us.
“I don’t like that shit,” she said calmly.
Before I could react, she took the cigarette from my hand and snubbed it out in the sand.
“Sorry, baby,” I muttered.
“Go brush your teeth,” she said lightly. “Rinse with mouthwash. I don’t want cigarette breath kissing me.”
“Yes, baby,” I said automatically. “Yeah. Baby.”
Beth shifted, standing. “I’m gonna call it a night too.”
She gave me a look—brief, unreadable—before disappearing inside.
I felt a flicker of embarrassment. Sage speaking to me like that in front of Beth… but no one said anything. No one ever did.
Back in bed, Sage made me shower. Said my skin smelled like smoke. She waited, then curled back into me once I was clean, fitting herself into my arms like she always did.
I held her.
She sighed contentedly.
The surf kept pounding outside.
And somewhere deep down, a thought surfaced—quiet, uncomfortable, impossible to ignore:
I didn’t remember agreeing to be managed.
The sex was hot—mind-blowing. Addictive like a bad drug and I started to wonder if I was falling in love or falling into an addiction.