Sadie comes to my mind. The feel of her lips. My hands on her soft skin. Joke’s on you, Alice. I’m not nearly as alone as you think.
As if summoned by my thoughts of her, Sadie appears in my doorway.
“Hey,” she says.
Just seeing her face, hearing her voice, is like a balm to my soul. The smile that crosses my face does so without conscious thought. I realize I’ve been doing a lot more of that lately. “Hi, beautiful.”
Her cheeks flush a little and her lips part in a sweet smile. “I heard the article came out. How is it?”
“It’s not bad.” It’s still open on my screen, so I turn the laptop so Sadie can see. I don’t know if I’ve really told Sadie about my ex-wife, so I quickly explain before she can read it. “Listen, I don’t think this has come up, but they mention my ex-wife, Amanda. She’s been gone for a long time. I haven’t seen her in years.”
She smiles. “It’s okay. We all have stuff in our pasts.”
Her eyes move across the screen as she reads. Then she scrolls down, looking at the photographs. I hadn’t gotten to those yet. There’s a photo of me in the kitchen at the top, but they included more at the end of the article.
Sadie’s smile fades and her brow furrows.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. Is there something else I didn’t read?
“I’m in some of these.”
“What?” I spin the laptop around and scroll through the photos. Sure enough, Sadie is in the background in two of the photos—one in the kitchen and one in the dining room. She’s not in the foreground, but her face is clearly visible.
Anger burns hot inside me. Sadie asked me not to let them include her in the pictures. I made that very clear. I’d intended to see to it myself, but Alice kept me busy answering questions the entire time they were here, so I didn’t see what was being photographed. Damn it, I should have emailed Alice to remind her. But after turning her down, I wanted to avoid talking to her again.
“Sadie, I’m sorry. I told them not to photograph you,” I say. “Damn it, I should have had you take that night off so you wouldn’t have been here.”
A trembling hand covers her mouth and she takes a deep breath.
“I’ll call them,” I say. “I’ll have them pull these pictures. I’m so sorry.”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s not your fault. And it’s probably fine. I’m sorry, I’m sure I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”
I wish she would tell me what’s going on. Aside from explaining that she had to move to get away from someone, she hasn’t told me why. I haven’t pressed her for more. As curious as I am, it doesn’t feel right to ask more questions. She’ll tell me when she’s ready. But there’s no mistaking the fear in her eyes, and I’m at a loss for what could have happened that has her so afraid.
“Are you in danger?” I ask.
She takes another deep breath. “I don’t think so. It’s not like this will be front page news in Missouri. Is my name included?”
I scan through the photos and the captions again. Beneath one it clearly reads, Servers Sam Martin and Sadie Sedgwick take care of guests in the elegant dining room.
“Yes,” I say. “It does say your name.”
She stiffens, her eyes locked on the wall.
“I’m going to call them right now and get them to take these down and remove your name,” I say. “It’s going to be fine.”
She meets my eyes, straightening her back. “Okay. You’re right. It will be fine.” Another deep breath. “I should get to work. I’ll see you out there.”
I watch her go, wishing she’d come back and open up. Wishing she’d tell me what happened to her.
She doesn’t. Not yet. But I can always see the pain behind her eyes. Feel it in her touch. She’s holding onto something that hurt her deeply.
The thought of someone hurting her makes anger bubble up inside again. I’m calling Alice and I’m going to make her take those fucking pictures down. And this time, I don’t give two shits about whether I’m being an asshole.
13
Sadie
The running water pours across the plate, rinsing the soap down in a cascade of bubbles. Memories assault me. Things I wish I could forget.
I’m standing in the hallway at my parents’ house. My back tightens, as if my skin is shrinking over my ribs. The front door closes and I hear voices. Two. Male. Saying hello to my parents. My shoulders slump. Why did Tyler have to bring him?
For a second, I consider feigning a sudden illness as an excuse to go home. The nausea wouldn’t be a lie. I feel sick to my stomach—sicker when I hear Adam’s laugh.
But I can’t let him run me off from my own family. It’s just dinner. I can handle him.
With a deep breath, I head into the kitchen to see if my mom needs any help. Luckily, she’s the only one there; Tyler and Adam appear to be in the living room with my dad.
“What can I do?” I ask.
Mom bustles about the kitchen, her red and white checked apron tied around her waist. “The table is set, but you can start bringing the food out.”
I grab a bowl of mashed potatoes and take it to the dining room. I glance at the guys, standing nearby. Adam catches my eye and his mouth curls. I look away quickly, breathing through the sick feeling in my stomach.
I wish he didn’t make me so uncomfortable. He’s my brother’s best friend. Hell, my family keeps nudging me toward going out with him. I think my parents always figured he and I would wind up together.
But he’s made me feel this way since we were kids. Ever since the night he was sleeping over with Tyler and he came into my room. I couldn’t have been more than eleven. He sat on the edge of my bed and told me he wanted to kiss me like a grownup and put his tongue on my privates.
I didn’t even understand what that meant, not really. I only knew it scared me. But he told me it was our secret and I was never, ever to tell anyone. He claimed if I did, I’d get in big trouble.
I wish I hadn’t believed him. Maybe if I’d spoken up all those years ago, my parents wouldn’t have let my brother stay friends with him.
He looks at me again when I walk back toward the kitchen. This time, his tongue flicks out and his upper lip twitches.
God, he’s so gross. He’s tall and thin, all sinewy muscle. His hands are too big, his fingers oddly long. I get another serving dish from the kitchen and when I come out, he wiggles those fingers at me, facing upward, like he’s mimicking something sexual. I glance at Tyler and my dad, but of course Adam did it when they weren’t looking. They never see.
I’m silent through dinner, my eyes on my plate. Adam is seated across from me and I feel his foot nudge mine a few times. I resist the urge to kick him under the table.
Finally, everyone finishes, and my parents get up. My mom starts to clear the table, but Adam stands and takes her dish.
“Here, Mrs. Sedgwick,” he says, his voice the epitome of politeness. “I’ll clean up. It’s the least I can do after this lovely meal.”
“Adam, you’re such a gentleman,” Mom says with a smile. She looks at me. “Sadie can help you. Can’t you, dear?”
I don’t miss the message in her eyes: she wants me to spend time with Adam. Their once-subtle hints are becoming far less so. It doesn’t seem to matter that I just got out of a relationship—one that Adam himself ruined.
But of course, my family took Adam’s side. They thought James was overreacting; if he was so threatened by Adam, maybe it was for the best that he broke up with me.
Wordlessly, I get up and start bringing the dishes into the kitchen. I can feel Adam’s presence behind me. He sets a stack of plates on the counter and casually brushes his hand across my backside.
I whip around. “Hands to yourself.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me. “What?”
“Just back off.”
“I’m just doing the dishes here,” he says. “You’re the one being touchy.”
I go back into the dining room to
keep clearing the table. Tyler and my parents are out on the back porch. My dad’s probably smoking a cigar. I wish they hadn’t left me alone with him, although I know they did it on purpose.
Adam is leaning against the counter when I come back in, my arms full of dishes. His eyes rove down my body; he’s making no effort to hide that he’s ogling me.
“What?” I ask.
He lifts one shoulder. “Nothing.”
“Stop staring at me.”
“Why? Don’t you enjoy having a man look at you with appreciation?”
“Not particularly,” I say, moving past him to set the dishes on the counter.
“Then why do you dress like that?”
I glance down. I’m wearing a silky green tank top and fitted jeans. “What does my outfit have to do with anything?”
“It makes you hard to resist,” he says. “Did you pick it for me?”
“No,” I say, my voice sharp. “Stop being creepy, Adam. It’s not like that. We’re not like that.”
He moves closer, invading my personal space, and leans in to speak quietly in my ear. His breath is hot on my neck, making me shudder.
“Oh, kitten. Someday I’m going to show you. You’re going to learn. Soon, kitten. Soon.”
I gasp, coming back to reality with a start. I’m standing in my kitchen. In Jetty Beach. I’m not in Missouri—not at my parents’ house. My hands are clenched around the plate I was rinsing, the water still running. I turn it off and put the plate in the dish dryer.
Deep breaths, Sadie. Deep breaths.
It’s been a week since the article came out, and so far, nothing’s happened. There’s no sign anyone back home saw it. But I’m still on edge.
I check my email every day, always dreading what I might find. I hear from my parents once, and it’s the usual. Attempts at conversation, at connection. There’s nothing from Tyler. And certainly nothing from Adam.
I’m still wondering how many locks I can fit on my front door.
I head into work, glad for the distraction. And for the knowledge that Gabriel will be there.
Just the thought of seeing him today riles up the butterflies in my tummy. I feel like a kid with a crush. The smile on my face grows the closer I get to the restaurant. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing—working, hanging out, stealing kisses in his office when we hope no one’s looking—he always makes me feel better. Safe. Happy.
I pull up to the Ocean Mark and park in the back. It’s such a beautiful place. Tall fir trees give it the ambiance of being set apart from the world. The roar of the ocean carries up the bluff, and the breeze is soft and gentle. The lodge style of the architecture is warm and inviting. It’s the kind of place that draws people in from the moment they arrive, making them feel welcome. Cared for.
I love this restaurant. I love it in a way I’ve never loved a place I’ve worked before. I care about it.
Because it’s his. Because he loves it too.
I head inside and hang my purse on a hook in the back. I see Gabriel’s office door is half open, and I’m just about to go in and say hi when Clover catches my eye.
“Hey, Sadie,” she says with a smile. She rubs her growing belly absently. “Something came for you.”
“Really?”
She nods toward a counter in the back where I see a big bouquet of pale pink orchids.
“Are you serious?” I ask. “Those are for me?”
“Yep,” she says.
I wander back and eye the flowers. They’re lovely, but the sight of them makes me uneasy. Pink orchids used to be my favorite. Did Gabriel send these? Why would he send me flowers at work? And how would he know which ones to send?
There’s a card attached to a little plastic stick. I pluck it off and pull it out of the envelope.
Sadie Sedgwick
It doesn’t say anything else. No note. No indication who it’s from.
A feeling of sickness steals over me. Oh my god. Please no.
I turn, ignoring Clover’s raised eyebrows, and head straight for Gabriel’s office.
Please let these be from him. Please.
I knock on his half-open door. “Hey, can I come in?”
“Sure.” He’s writing something and doesn’t look up at me when I slip inside.
There’s something about his posture and short reply—and the fact that he’s not looking up—that sets me on edge. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I guess so.”
The sick feeling grows. I’m afraid to even ask if he sent the flowers. I already know the answer. “All right.”
“You have an admirer or something?” he asks, still not looking.
“The flowers?” I ask.
“Yes, the flowers.”
“I guess that means they aren’t from you.”
His eyes finally lift. “No.”
Bile rises in the back of my throat. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. I’d know if I sent you flowers.” He presses his lips together for a second. “Who did?”
There’s a part of me that wants to laugh because I can tell he’s trying very hard to hide his jealousy. A vein sticks out in his neck and his face is too still, like he’s fighting to keep his expression calm.
But none of this is funny. If Gabriel didn’t send those flowers, there’s only one other person who could have. Which means…
“Oh my god,” I say, putting a hand to my mouth.
“Sadie, is there something you need to tell me?”
There’s a hitch in his voice. He thinks I’m seeing someone else behind his back. I don’t want him to think that, but I can’t seem to say anything. My breath is frozen in my lungs and I can’t make myself speak. I put a hand to my chest and try to breathe.
He waits in silence while I collect myself.
“I think it was Adam Cooper,” I say, forcing myself to utter his name.
“You mean…” His brow furrows. “You mean the guy you moved to get away from?”
I nod.
“What does the card say?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I hold it out for him to see. “Just my name.”
He turns the card over. “These could have been ordered online from anywhere.”
“Exactly.”
“Who is he?” Gabriel asks. “Your ex-boyfriend? Ex-husband?”
“No, he’s neither,” I say.
Clover peeks her head in behind me. “Hey, chef. We need to get started.”
Gabriel nods and Clover disappears back into the kitchen. He stands and walks around his desk, stopping in front of me. He rubs his hands up and down my arms. “Are you okay? Do you want to go home?”
I shake my head. “No, I’d rather be here. It just means… it means he knows where I am.”
“I know,” he says. “But I need you to listen to me, Sadie. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I don’t care who he is. Whatever you’re worried about, it won’t happen.”
His strong hands on my arms and quiet voice shore me up, fill me with confidence.
“Do you want me to throw them away?” he asks.
“Yes, please do.” I pause, chewing on my lip. “Did you think there was someone else?”
“I was a little worried about that, yeah,” he says. “I didn’t know why you’d be getting flowers at work. I know it’s not your birthday, and you said your parents don’t know where you live. I thought maybe—”
“No,” I say, reaching up to touch a finger to his lips. “I swear to you, Gabriel, I’m not hiding something like that from you.”
He leans his forehead against mine. “I should have just asked.”
I can’t help the smile that crosses my lips. “Were you jealous?”
He kisses my forehead. “What can I say? I want you all to myself.”
“You have me all to yourself,” I say.
Unless my drama is too much. Unless I stop being worth the trouble.
14
Gabe
I t
oss the flowers into the dumpster outside and brush my hands together. When the delivery guy brought them in for Sadie, I was hit with surge of anger. Jealousy. Who the fuck was sending my woman flowers at work? I certainly didn’t send them.
I admit I looked at the card. Nothing on it but her name.
It didn’t occur to me that they could be from that Adam guy, whoever he is. I wish she would just tell me what happened. What made her pack up her life and run? I don’t know if she still talks to her family, or if they know where she is. I don’t know why she left—not really. It must have been something terrible. People don’t usually leave and worry about keeping hidden over something small.
So what the fuck did this douchebag do to her? She said he’s not an ex. What could he have done that has her running? Has her so scared?
I’m afraid I know, but I can’t bring myself to even think it.
And I don’t understand why she doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.
Sadie seems calm and collected throughout the dinner service. I catch her eye and smile as often as I can—mostly because I like seeing her smile back at me. I like making the light in her eyes shine. I like the feeling that when she’s with me, she’s not so sad, even if we’re just working together.
But she’s holding back from me, in more ways than one. It doesn’t seem to matter how much her body melts for me when I kiss her. There’s a wall she won’t let me through. I’ve never pushed her—in fact, I’ve never even suggested we take things to the next level. I’ve wanted to invite her back to my place, or suggest we go to hers. But there’s an invisible barrier that I can feel between us. I’m not sure how to get past it, and I’m worried about scaring her off if I try too hard.
But I have to admit, I’m getting impatient.
I’m fine with taking a relationship slow, but god, I want her so bad it hurts. The little taste I’ve gotten has me positively addicted. Kissing her goodnight, little brushes of skin against my fingers, they’re not enough. I want more of her. I want all of her.
Could Be the Reason: (Gabe and Sadie) (A Back to Jetty Beach Romance Book 3) Page 9