by Kate Meader
But the words wouldn’t come, probably because he’d never said them to anyone but his wife. They hit the pipe and he wasn’t even in position for a rebound.
Not a wide eye from Sadie. Not an eyebrow raise. Not even a twitch of her lips.
She cupped his cheek and held it. “I know, Gunnar. But I need you to love yourself first.”
Then she kissed him with a sweetness that broke him wide open before she left him blinking, wet-eyed, at her departing back.
36
Jonah Yates hugged Lauren tight, then pushed her away from him to get a good look at her.
“Don’t ever do anything like that again, Lauren. You must have worried your sister sick.”
“I just wanted to see you, Dad.”
Her father looked over her head at Sadie, seated at the table in the prison’s visiting room. For once, his usual disdain wasn’t on display.
“I told Sadie to keep you away. I didn’t want you to get upset, seeing me in this place.” He kissed the top of her head. “We both want the best for you.”
“I know,” Lauren said, sniffing. “But I miss you.”
A couple of minutes later, all the tears had been shed. Sadie asked Lauren if she’d wait outside while she talked to their father alone.
“She’s gotten so big,” Jonah said, his tone fond.
“She eats Pop-Tarts by the caseload. But I promise, I’m throwing in some salads as well.”
He nodded, placed his face in his hands, and spent a few seconds rubbing away his emotion. Sadie gave him the time he needed. Finally, he asked, “Are you really going to stay in Chicago?”
“Yes, Dad. But I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Lauren. She’s had too much upheaval and this is best for her.”
“I expected you’d be like your mother. Vindictive.”
She held up a hand. “Could you not do that, Dad? Mom cheated on you and died before you could divorce her. You never got your revenge on her so you took it out on me.”
“Sadie—”
“I’m not a vindictive person, Dad. At least, I don’t think so. Taking Lauren to LA was not a way to punish you for being a jerk to me after Mom died. I worried that I might be carrying this bitterness and making decisions for all the wrong reasons, but no. I have a life independent of your bad decisions. I don’t owe you a thing.” The words bubbled up, desperate to find a voice now that she had a captive—literally—audience. “So I reminded you of Mom. What of it? So she did you wrong. How is that my fault? I was thirteen and you never had my back. My mother had just died and you never comforted me. You were too mad that you never got a chance to get your revenge in the divorce proceedings. I know you’re hurting now but you’ve also doled out a fair share of pain yourself. Me, Lauren, and all the people you stole from. Man up and take some responsibility. I don’t expect to have a relationship with you—it’s probably too late for that but I won’t ever poison Lauren against you. It’s called being an adult.”
All the things she could say. I know about the birthday cards. I know about the letter from Zoe. Why the hell would you cut me out of your and her life like that?
But she didn’t say it. He knew what he’d done, and she wanted to put all that behind her. She stood, her piece said, not caring for a response. Any words spoken by her father would either be bitter or mealy-mouthed. She had Lauren to worry about, an apartment to find, and a business to build.
“Sadie, I don’t know what to say.” He sounded forlorn. Pity for him bubbled in her chest.
“That’s okay, Dad. Take some time to think. I’ll bring Lauren whenever she wants to see you.”
He nodded, his eyes welling. “Thanks for looking after her.”
“Of course. She’s family.”
Sadie turned, knowing it wasn’t the end, but hoping it was a start.
Sadie stood back, placing a pin in her wrist pin cushion. “What do you think?”
Harper twirled in front of the mirror and moved her hands over the sateen fabric. The tulip skirt showcased her legs to perfection.
“Gorgeous.” She fingered her cornsilk waves and raised an eyebrow. “Not bad for a mom of three.”
The Chicago Rebels CEO always looked amazing, but Sadie liked to think her dress had peeled back another layer of her beauty.
“I can have it finished the day after tomorrow.”
“I can’t believe you have the time,” Harper said as she walked into the en suite bathroom to change. “When I asked, I never expected you’d be able to complete it so soon.”
For the last week, Sadie had worked like a madwoman to complete Jenny’s dress (done) and Harper’s (almost). She was especially excited about Harper, who was often snapped for Chicago society pages. Having the Rebel Queen herself, as everyone called her, wear a Sadie Yates original would be the perfect promotion. Assuming she could get her business off the ground.
Her phone vibrated with a text from Peyton in LA. So Allegra wants bacon-flavored toothpicks even though she’s vegetarian but the warehouse that stored them burned down (arson) and she thinks someone did it on purpose to mess with her. Have I made the biggest mistake of my life?
Sadie laughed. She’d recommended to Allegra that she hire Peyton as her PA, though she suspected Allegra would eventually see Peyton as competition. Luckily her friend would never take it seriously and would probably stand up to Allegra (on her twiggy, supermodel legs) better than Sadie had ever done.
Tell her it’s a conspiracy. She’ll love it.
Harper came out of the bathroom wrapped in a floral-patterned robe. “So, I hear you’re looking for an apartment.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Oh, not much gets by me.”
Okay, then. Sadie turned away to organize her sewing supplies, but really to hide any reaction she felt should Gunnar’s name be mentioned.
“I’m going to see one this afternoon.” The third in as many days. She shouldn’t be so fussy but she had to factor in school for Lauren and so many places weren’t dog-friendly. Leaving Coop behind was a dealbreaker.
She sneaked a peek at Harper who was watching her curiously.
“I also heard that you and Gunnar aren’t a couple anymore.”
“Not sure we ever were.” Except she knew Gunnar cared about her, maybe even loved her in his way. “He needs to work on himself.”
“Don’t we all?”
Sadie didn’t like where this was going. “You think I’m abandoning him when he needs me most?”
Harper was silent for a few seconds. “We all need people, but we also have to do what’s right for our own mental health. You have a lot going on in your own life, so that definitely limits your bandwidth. And as for Gunnar …” She made a shrugging gesture with her hands. “You can lead a hockey player to the ice but you can’t make him see a therapist. Well, I could. I could make it a condition of his continued employment. But I’d rather he chose that for himself.”
Sadie agreed, though it was strange to not call or text or see someone who had become such an integral part of her life. It would be so easy to lean on him to help her through these next few weeks. He’d do it, too. But she had to make her own way. He had to figure out his, and maybe they’d reconnect further along on their journeys.
Allegra would be very proud of that piece of Cali-spun philosophy.
Mostly, Sadie hated that she couldn’t hold him after he’d awoken from a bad dream and smooth away some of the hurt. But maybe she could help another way.
“This might seem weird, but I wondered if you’d help me get in contact with someone. I could find them but it might sound better coming from you.”
“I’m intrigued.”
Harper listened to Sadie’s request and promised to make a call. “But before I do that, I have something to show you.”
Freshly showered after a two-hour workout in the Rebels’ gym, Gunnar pulled on his shorts. Training camp started in less than a month and while running down pucks with kids was good cardio, it d
idn’t contribute much to his strength regimen. His muscles felt tight, his skin with it. He could blame the workout but he knew it was more.
He missed Sadie. Her laugh. Her smile. Her steely strength and unending kindness.
He would have missed her if she’d moved back to LA, but knowing she was merely a few miles away was a particular cruelty. According to Theo, they would be staying with the Isners while they looked for an apartment (Lauren had got her way in the end). Several times over the last few days, he’d suppressed the urge to drop in, just to see how Jenny and the boys were doing. Right.
Sadie wasn’t the only person who’d suggested therapy. Harper had mentioned it when he came into Rebels HQ to discuss his scuffle with Kaminski. She hadn’t pushed but he could tell she was disappointed. It had been three years. He was finally on the mend—yet no one believed him.
His phone buzzed with a text from Kurt. They’d been talking more lately. If Gunnar couldn’t knuckle down to some $200 per hour shrink, he could make a start with his family. (He suspected that would be the first thing a therapist would order him to do anyway, which affirmed his opinion that therapy was so not necessary.)
Kurt: Hey, I wanted to send you something. A video. That okay?
Gunnar: What of? And why was he asking permission?
Kurt: Thanksgiving, a few years ago, here in Maine.
Gunnar gusted out a breath and looked around, though he knew he was alone. Was this some kind of immersion therapy? Blast him with memories and watch him crumble?
Gunnar: Send it.
It took a couple of minutes to download and Gunnar paced the room, waiting for the circle to complete, psyching himself up for what he was about to watch.
The video opened on the dinner table at his brother’s place in Maine, which could seat an army. It was half-set with dishes and flatware, and then he heard it: his own voice.
“C’mon, Danny boy, let me show you how it’s done.”
Gunnar picked his son up and placed him on one of the chairs so he could reach the table. Danny always wanted to help. In the kitchen, at the grocery store, wherever humans set their mind to things. On this day, he would have been three and a half. Gunnar distinctly remembered how proud he was of his little blue-checkered shirt and doll-sized jeans because he was dressed like his dad.
“Like this, Daddy?” He looked up and Gunnar touched the screen to freeze it. He’d wondered if it was a blessing or a curse that he was killed outright. Only a selfish fucker would want him to have survived the crash so Gunnar could hear his voice and commit it to memory.
He traced his index finger over the blond hair of his son, a little long and prone to curl, and marveled at how much he looked like his mom. The same hazel eyes, the same stubborn tilt to his chin. His hands tingled with the memory of how his son’s tiny body had felt in his hands. He hit the play button again.
“Exactly like that, bud.” On the video, Gunnar straightened the fork and smiled at the camera.
“Just like Downton Abbey,” a voice said. His sister-in-law, Carrie.
“Just like Down town Abbey,” Danny said, taking a spoon from the basket Gunnar carried because they were a flatware-delivery team.
That was the end of the video and the end of Gunnar. He crumbled. His shoulders shook and he tried to play the video again, but he dropped his phone. Instead of picking it up, he stared at it until it blurred, an amorphous shape through his tears.
Minutes passed that felt like hours, but they couldn’t have been because someone would have come into the locker room by now.
The phone rang and he fumbled for it. It was Kurt.
“You okay?”
“Fuck, no.”
Kurt inhaled a sharp breath. “Wasn’t sure that would be a good idea, but your friend seemed to think it was what you needed.”
Gunnar straightened. “My friend?”
“Sadie. Well, she said she was a friend, but I got the impression there was more to it? Anyway, Harper Chase called and—”
“Harper Chase called you?”
“That’s what I just said.” Kurt sounded impatient as always, and for some reason, that made Gunnar smile. “Said this Sadie needed to talk to me about any videos I might have, especially ones of Danny. Carrie went back and checked the cloud. You know, I don’t film any of that stuff.”
“Yeah, me neither. Kel did all that.” He’d started filming those kids at hockey camp, though, especially Lauren so he could sent it to Petrov. It was important to record those moments.
“Right. Anyway, she found this one and a few more. Said I should reach out to you and ask if you wanted to see it.”
Gunnar closed his eyes, pondering this gift. I can’t hear my son’s voice anymore. He had told Sadie that, lamented it, and here she was, figuring out how to fix that one problem among a million.
“You said you have more videos?”
“Yup.”
“Can you send them or put them somewhere I can view them?”
“Sure can. You could also visit once in a fuckin’ while and watch them on the big screen in the den.”
Gunnar smiled at that. “I will. I promise. And Kurt?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for this. Thanks for everything.”
His brother snorted. “Jesus, we’re family, aren’t we?”
Yes, they were. Gunnar hung up, just as Dante walked into the locker room with a gym bag. He put it down on the bench and took a hard look at the current bench occupant.
“You okay?”
“No, I’m not.”
Dante smiled, like that was the best news he’d heard all day. “Tell me how I can help.”
37
It was a knockout wedding, perfect in every way. Sadie even managed to earn her hundred-dollar chicken plate by sewing a last-minute rip in the bride’s gown.
“Have I told you how gorgeous you are?” she asked her plus-one.
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Only eleventy billion times. Give it a rest.”
“Never.”
Sadie had made a dress for Lauren from the Swedish print, the perfect fabric for a girl her age. Dark-haired and bright-cheeked, she looked just like her mom. But those silver-blue eyes were her father’s—and Sadie’s. They were sisters, no doubt about it.
In an astonishing act of kindness, Sadie and Lo were seated with the people they knew in Chicago. The Isners were on one side of her, Elle and Theo on the other. Also with them was a friendly guy named Joe, who fed slivers of the chicken to a cute dog called Cookie under the table. A handsome hockey hunk called Cal Foreman had flirted with her at the bar but was now feeling up his date three seats over.
The empty chair on the other side of the ten-seater table couldn’t be more glaring. Sadie’s eyes were constantly drawn to the void.
Lauren nudged her. “Quit it.”
“You quit it,” Sadie mumbled.
The appetizer and entrée courses came and went, but still no sign of Gunnar. He wasn’t at the church, either, and when Sadie asked Jenny if she knew where he was, she got a shrug of no. But his name was on a card at the front of the marquee tent, assigned to this table. He was supposed to be here, so why wasn’t he?
Reaching out to his brother had seemed like a good move. A potentially jarring, kick-in-the-ass move, but a good one all the same. Yet she hadn’t heard a word about his reaction.
The desserts amazed, mini-tiramisus and lemon mousses and macarons by the truckload because the bride was obsessed with them. Toasts were given, tears were shed, and the first dance made everyone go aww!
As the guests headed toward the dance floor, she saw him—finally!—headed her way. Her heart flipped like a landed fish.
He stopped at the table, nodded at Joe and his fellow players, and smiled at her. “Hello, Sadie.”
“Hi,” she managed. He’d shaved and wow, he looked so good. She’d seen pics of him in a suit online, but nothing impressed like in-the-flesh tailoring.
He peered down at Lauren. “Almost di
dn’t recognize you there, Lo. Enjoy the desserts?”
“The lemon mousse was the best.”
He took the empty seat beside her. “Heard you guys moved into the Chase Manor cottage.”
Lauren lit up. “Yeah, Violet Vasquez used to live there and she painted these crazy murals all over the wall. She’s married to Bren St. James but she’s having a baby for Cade Burnett and Dante Moretti, which is really weird. But Harper says we can raid her fridge up at the main house any time. And Isobel invited me to join the U14 hockey team she coaches. She also said she’d put a good word in for me for school, but I wouldn’t mind so much if I didn’t have to go back. More time for hockey practice.”
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t get to learn about calculus and physics and geography, which are important. Or so I hear.”
Lauren grinned. “You should dance with Sadie. She’s been dying for you to turn up.”
“Lauren! Don’t put him on the spot. And I was not dying, just curious.”
Gunnar stood and held out his hand. “She’s right. Dance with me, Sadie.”
Sadie’s heart thundered like a jet engine in her chest. But she’d also been watching that damn chair for two hours, so she sure as hell would not be sitting this one out.
On wobbly legs, she stood and took his hand, feeling like she was on ice skates and he was the only thing holding her up. He led them to the dance floor, to the tune of Nat King Cole’s Unforgettable. His big hand settled at her back, his other held hers, and their chests met in the perfect fit.
“You look stunning,” he said. “That one of yours?”
“It is.”
“And you’ve dressed a few of the guests as well.”
“Business is looking up.”
He smiled. She’d never seen him smile so much. Gone was the hollow-eyed look. Her heart th-thunked with joy at seeing him so at ease.
She gazed up at him. “You shaved.”
“Well, the season’s over.” The way he said it made it sound like season meant something else. “New one’s starting soon.”
She licked her lips, suddenly incredibly nervous. “You missed the ceremony. And the meal. And the desserts.”