Once Upon a Bad Boy--A Sometimes in Love Novel

by Melonie Johnson

  Bo amused himself for a moment imagining unpleasant uses for that clipboard.

  “Why would she do that?” Sadie asked, her lips pinching in a sad knot.

  “Oh, the money, I’m sure.” Meg fussed with her bow tie. “The problem, though, and the thing that our Miss Fisk failed to consider, is that she signed a—”

  “An NDA!” Sadie straightened. “Everyone does, it’s standard.”

  “What is it with you two? Stop interrupting me. This isn’t some quiz show where you get a prize for buzzing in the fastest.” Meg moved back to the pile of papers. “Yes, she signed a nondisclosure agreement. I’ve already conferred with Sylvia, who has assured me that steps will be taken to ensure Miss Fisk, as they say in our business, ‘never works in this town again.’”

  Sadie brushed a hand over her short blond spikes. “But why me?”

  “Pardon?” Meg quirked a brow at her over her glasses.

  “Why did Tanya focus all her leaks on me? I mean, the last one I get, she walked into that—literally.” Sadie choked out a disgusted laugh. “God, that should have been a clue, huh?”

  Bo agreed. He wanted to kick himself. He’d never even considered the uptight pencil-pushing coffee runner to be capable of this devious crap. He’d judged her. Made assumptions about her. The same way he’d hated people doing to him.

  “As the lead character in the film, you were the obvious choice. And the sad fact is, women are generally easier to exploit in the media. To be blunt, you were not just the obvious choice, but the more lucrative one.”

  “The production company is going to sue her, right?” Sadie asked. “For breaking the NDA? If nothing else, just so she doesn’t profit from messing up my life.”

  “Funny you should mention that.” Meg picked up a manila folder. “When we confronted Miss Fisk, we discovered she’d been gathering material on you for further financial gain. Now, the reason for all this secrecy is that, as with everything, we’d like to contain the potential for…” Meg paused, “… nastiness.”

  Beside him, Sadie tensed right back up. Bo could feel the trepidation rolling off her. He glanced her way again, almost expecting the spikes of her hair to rise like the hackles on a hound.

  What the hell was going on?

  Meg slid the folder to Sadie. “Miss Fisk has stated she is ready to provide some very personal information to the right buyer.”

  “That sounds like blackmail.”

  “It rather does, doesn’t it?” Meg agreed. “Save for the fact that Miss Fisk is not asking for money for her information. She simply wants to avoid having to spend money.”

  “She wants the lawsuit dropped,” Bo guessed.

  Meg nodded. “Otherwise, yes, she will sell this information to the highest bidder. And since it pertains to a situation that occurred long before this film was being produced, the NDA does not apply.”

  “Which means she can’t be sued for leaking the information.” Bo shook his head. That clever little weasel.

  “Of course, if this information she claims to have is proven false, like her story about your enhanced endowments, then I move we take her on.”

  Sadie didn’t answer, just continued to stare at Meg.

  “But, if there is any chance this story is true … Well, like I said”—Meg pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose—“we’d like to contain any potential unpleasantness.”

  Bo glanced at the folder again. Sadie was looking at it like it was a snake lying in wait to bite her. He was dying to know what the hell Tanya had dug up that made her think she could pull a fast one on an entire film studio. Whatever it was, it had to be intense. Or maybe that was just it. She was trying to pull a fast one and had nothing more than another invisible boob job story.

  He considered the situation for a moment, realizing there was a factor at play that shouldn’t be—him. “While I appreciate being kept in the loop regarding Tanya’s actions and the footage she leaked involving me…” Bo paused, “… out of respect for Sadie’s privacy, I’m not sure if I should be a part of the current conversation. If this is a story involving Sadie—”

  “It involves both of you.”

  “Oh.” Bo frowned. He and Sadie had done a lot of dumb shit together as kids, but never anything that could be worthy of blackmail. No petty crimes, nothing illegal. What the fuck could it be?

  Bo’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it, his brain whirring frantically. That first time in the loft, he’d been seventeen, which made her sixteen … shit. Was it illegal if they were both underage? And who would even know about that besides the two of them?

  His confusion would clear up fast if Sadie just opened the damn folder. But she still hadn’t moved.

  “Sadie?” Bo leaned toward her. “Look, I can’t believe they’d send me to jail, abeja, but if you want to fight Tanya on this, I’m willing to risk it.”

  “Jail?” Meg cocked her head. “Things are pretty messed up right now, but that’s still not a crime.”

  “What are you talking about?” Bo frowned at Meg.

  She bristled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Bo doesn’t know.” Sadie’s voice was heavy and low.

  “Oh.” Meg blinked. “Um, well, ah, yes, then…”

  It was the first time Bo had seen the PR woman get flustered, and that freaked him the hell out. “What don’t I know?”

  “Perhaps, you were right,” Meg began, rising from her chair. “Maybe it would be best if you wait outside for this part of the consultation.” She moved to open the door.

  “But you said it involved me.” He turned, trying to get a read on Sadie’s face, but she was immobile, smooth porcelain, blank. “Sadie?” His voice cracked, desperation leaking through. “What don’t I know? What aren’t you telling me?”

  She still hadn’t touched the folder, still hadn’t moved. She stared down at it, still as a corpse, save for the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she struggled for air.

  “Sadie?” Bo grabbed her wrist. Her skin was clammy, cold to the touch. Shit. “I think she’s having a panic attack.” He stood, helping Sadie to her feet, gently, careful not to move her too fast.

  “Should I call an ambulance?”

  “No.” Bo shook his head. “I don’t think so. But some water would be good. And she needs air.”

  Meg hurried to open the door to the conference room. Bo held Sadie’s hand and walked her down the hall. Still breathing in rapid, wheezing little gasps, she followed behind him, arm limp in his grip, like a rag doll on a string, about to collapse at any moment.

  Bo stopped near a bank of windows where the crisp November sun scattered squares of light over the corporate gray carpet. Sadie’s skin was almost the same color.

  “Sadie?” Her eyes were wide open and unfocused, pupils swallowing the violet hue in a gaping darkness. Bo patted her cheeks, rubbed her arms. “Abeja, listen to me. Breathe.” He kept his voice low and calm, reining in his own terror at seeing her like this.

  “It’s fine. You’re going to be fine.” Her heart was hammering like a fox caught in a snare. Bo pressed his palms over her chest, leaning into her, offering the weight of his body as comfort. “Everything is fine, sweetheart. Just breathe.”

  They stood like that for seconds, minutes, hours. Bo didn’t know. But eventually her heart slowed, her breathing evened out, and her skin took on its normal shade. He slumped against the windows, cold glass a welcome chill against his back as he cradled Sadie in his arms.

  At the soft thud of footsteps on the carpet, Bo glanced down the hall. Meg approached with a glass of water.

  “How is she?”

  “I think she’s past it.”

  Bo’s phone buzzed again. His mother now. Fuck. He straightened, throwing a glance toward Meg. “Stay with her. I’ll be right back.”

  “Mom. What?” Bo snapped, immediately regretting it. His mother didn’t deserve his shit.

  “Finally,” she breathed. “Your sister’s been trying to reach you.
”

  There was a thread of panic in her voice. Nerves already frayed, Bo’s throat went tight and dry. “What’s wrong?” He forced the words out. “Is it Toby?” Adrenaline already out of control, fear pumped through his veins. “Did something happen to Toby?”

  “No, no, mijo.” His mother’s voice was soothing, but the worry was still there. “It’s Mrs. Murphy, Sadie’s grandmother.”

  Bo listened to his mother explain, anxiety lacing his gut tighter and tighter. He glanced toward the windows. “I understand, Mom. We’ll be there soon.” Bo ended the call and forced air into his lungs as he headed back to Sadie and Meg.

  “We’ll deal with the Tanya business later.”

  “We will?” Meg considered him, eyes assessing. Then she nodded. “Right.”

  Bo reached for Sadie’s hand. “We need to go, abeja.”

  She glanced up, confused.

  “It’s your grandmother.” Bo forced himself to meet Sadie’s gaze. Her eyes were already so full of pain, he hated what he had to say next. “She’s in the hospital.”

  CHAPTER 27

  THE TOWERING STREETLAMPS lining the expressway flew by in a steady rhythm as Bo raced north. Sadie focused on counting each pole as it passed. It gave her brain something to latch onto, a place to direct her attention so she wouldn’t sink into the panic spiral swirling at the edge of her thoughts.

  Her compartmentalization system wasn’t working. Whatever had happened to her in Meg’s war room, it had ripped open every box, leaving the contents strewn all over every surface. Heart breaking, mind racing, soul aching. She should have told him. That night in the hayloft, when they’d shared so much, and he’d sensed the pain in her, begged her to let him in. She should have opened that box, then.

  But she didn’t. It was easier to leave it buried. Keep it submerged in the dark while she floated at the top where it was light and easy. No struggle. And now the choice had been taken from her. Instead of an act of courage, instead of a gift of trust, her confession would simply be that. A confession. An admission of guilt.

  Not guilt over what she’d done. Sadie had long ago come to terms with that choice. She didn’t regret it. No, the guilt came from keeping it hidden for so long. For treating her choice like it was something to be ashamed of. She’d locked the box up tight and never let any of those feelings out—and by doing so, she could never really let anyone in.

  The only person she’d ever truly let all the way in was Nana, and now Sadie may have lost her forever.

  Arriving at the hospital suddenly made it all too real. Sadie’s mind started to spin like a carousel going too fast. Moving through the long white hallways next to Bo, she felt like she was still in the car, lampposts whizzing by faster and faster until their lines became blurred. She felt blurred.

  “Breathe,” Bo whispered. A quiet reminder to relax.

  Sadie breathed. One panic attack was enough, thank you very much. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, she followed Bo into a waiting room, latching on to details. Luna and Mrs. Ibarra were there, little paper cups of vending-machine coffee in hand. Toby was sprawled out on the floor, coloring. Bo’s mother caught sight of them and waved them over.

  “Is she okay? What happened?” The questions spilled out of Sadie, scattering onto the waiting room floor. She’d been holding them in for what seemed like hours. Words sitting on her tongue as she rode in the car, waiting to get here, waiting to be able to ask, to find out, to know.

  “Is she okay? What happened?” Sadie couldn’t help repeating herself. She’d been holding on to those words too long.

  Mrs. Ibarra took Sadie’s hands within her own. Bo’s mother’s hands were smooth, but strong and confident, like her son’s. She walked Sadie across the room and settled her onto one of the couches.

  Sadie glanced around, noting the other people sitting and waiting for news of their loved ones, other families. “I should … I should call my mother.” The words felt strange and wooden on her tongue. But Nana was in the hospital, her daughter needed to know.

  “Angie is trying to reach her now,” Mrs. Ibarra assured her.

  “Why didn’t she try calling me?” Sadie wondered, hurt that no one had tried to contact her, to let her know.

  “That’s my doing.” Bo’s mother patted Sadie’s shoulder. “I told Angie to worry about tracking down your parents, I know they can be tricky to pin down sometimes.”

  That’s an understatement. Sadie surprised herself. Even amidst the fear and worry, she could still be snarky about her parents without even thinking. Years of practice.

  “And I didn’t call you,” Mrs. Ibarra continued, “because I thought it would be best if you had someone drive you.” She smiled at Sadie, golden-brown eyes the same shade as Bo’s full of compassion. “I know she means a lot to you, mija. I was worried when you heard what happened, you’d be too upset to get here safe.”

  “You were right.” Sadie nodded. “Thank you.”

  “What did Bo tell you?”

  “Honestly, I don’t really remember much, the car ride here, it was kind of a blur…”

  “She fell.”

  “Fell? How? Where?” The panic drifted closer, swirling, ready to suck her in.

  “On the front porch, so not too far. But hard.”

  “Was she there long?” Oh God, her poor nana, alone and in the cold.

  “I don’t think so.” Mrs. Ibarra shook her head. “Luna had dropped off some canning vegetables, and we think your grandmother slipped trying to bring them in by herself.” Her gaze moved over her daughter and grandson. “Luna feels terrible about it.”

  “It’s not her fault.” Sadie followed Mrs. Ibarra’s gaze, watching Bo’s sister absently stroke Toby’s soft blond locks. “I know my grandmother appreciates Luna’s kindness. She raves about her flowers and vegetables.”

  “Maybe you can tell her that,” Mrs. Ibarra suggested gently. “I think it would help, especially coming from you.”

  “I don’t know,” Sadie began.

  “I do know,” Bo’s mother said.

  Sadie pulled back, surprised by the vehemence of the response. Maybe Mrs. Ibarra felt her daughter was lonely and needed a friend.

  “I’ll tell her,” Sadie promised. “Do you know what is happening right now? With my grandmother, I mean.”

  Mrs. Ibarra frowned. “I suspect a broken hip, which likely means surgery. The sooner the better. It’s never a good idea to postpone these things.”

  “Why?”

  “The risk for complication goes up the longer you wait.”

  God, wasn’t that the truth? Sadie should get a tattoo of that phrase. She scanned the room, looking for Bo, spotting his broad shoulders in front of the coffee machine.

  Again, Sadie chastised herself for not telling him before. She could forgive the scared, disconsolate eighteen-year-old who’d decided to keep the secret to herself, but she could not excuse the woman. The thirty-year-old woman.

  “A doctor should be out soon to give us an update,” Mrs. Ibarra said, and Sadie jumped from one emotional landmine to the next.

  “Will I able to see her, then?” she asked hopefully.

  “Depends.” The older woman eased back in her chair, considering. “If they decide to prep her for emergency surgery, which is what I think they’re planning to do, we should be able to get you back there for a quick hug.”

  Sadie was grateful Mrs. Ibarra hadn’t used the phrase, say goodbye. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “Anytime. You know that.” Bo’s mother paused, a small chuckle escaping. “Though I don’t want this to become a routine.”

  “Agreed.” Sadie managed a smile.

  Bo returned then, handing Sadie a paper cup of something that might be coffee.

  “Thanks.” She wrapped her hands around the cup, letting the heat soak into her palms.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he warned. “It’s liquid, it’s warm, and it’s brown, but I’m not sure it’s coffee.”

  Sadie sputtered
into her cup.

  “Glad I can still make you laugh,” Bo said.

  “That makes two of us.”

  “How are you holding up?”

  “Okay, so far.” She stared at the ground, tracing the patterns in the carpet with her toe. “I’m scared, though. I’ve never lost anyone close to me. I mean, anyone that I can remember.” She loved her poppa, but her memories of him were vague, more fantasy than reality, and she’d been too little when he died to really miss him. “The only thing that comes even close was losing Flynn.”

  Bo’s eyes kindled, lit with memories. “I remember Flynn.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Sadie’s mouth. “I hope so; you saved his life once.”

  “No.” Bo nodded his head toward his mother. “She saved his life.”

  It had been Bo who’d first noticed something was wrong with Flynn. Yes, as a vet, Bo’s mother had been the one to provide the care that cured the dog, but modest he may be, Sadie knew it was Bo’s quick thinking that recognized Flynn was having an allergic reaction that saved him.

  Sadie risked a sip of her drink. It wasn’t great, it wasn’t even good, but it was passable. And it had caffeine, which was really all that mattered right now. Sadie had a feeling she was in for a long night. She glanced over at Luna and Toby. “It means a lot that you’re here, but you don’t have to stay. If you need to get going, I understand.”

  Luna offered her a soft smile, and for the second time Sadie could ever remember, Bo’s sister looked at her without chips of green ice for eyes.

  Sadie thought about what Luna’s mother had said.

  “My grandma talks about you all the time, you know.”

  Luna pulled back, eyes wide. “She does?”

  “Oh yeah, raves. I think she might be your number-one fan.”

  A pretty pink blush bloomed in Luna’s cheeks.

  “Hey, Mamá. I’m your number-one fan.” Toby scrambled to his feet, hopping into his mother’s lap and scattering his box of crayons in the process.

  “Tobias,” Luna groaned.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got it.” Sadie set her coffee cup on a nearby table and sat on the floor, scooping crayons back into the box. “Hey, Toby, do you mind if I color?” She glanced up. Toby was curled against Luna, blond head tucked under her chin, already half asleep.