Unsteady

It’s Thursday night, which usually means we’re out at a team dinner or floating through a few parties. Nothing too crazy, because we travel tomorrow, but something to get everyone excited in a controlled environment.

Tonight, however, Freddy, Bennett and I are hosting most of the team at our house for dinner, drinks and bonding.

Holden even invited Kane.

He ran it by me first, in a stumbling phone call that made me feel strangely guilty. He wasn’t trying to take sides; he was actually doing his job—getting to know his defensive partner.

Kane didn’t show, and I see the slight disappointment on Holden’s face where he sits next to an empty seat he insisted people save for the missing teammate.

Now, dinner is over, but we sit with dirty plates and full bellies, laughing and talking. And even though I don’t participate as much as I did before, it feels… normal.

A loud, swift knock interrupts the laughing, and Holden looks up at me, pushing back and offering to get it. I know he’s anticipating the black sheep to have finally made an appearance. But after only a few moments, he comes rushing back to me.

“Who is it?”

“Um.” He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s Sadie, the figure skater? She asked to talk to you.”

There’s a brief flare of irritation that everyone seems to know her—which only makes the irrational part of me want to take her and her brothers and keep them for myself. Still, I nod and stand, trying to stop my shaking hands and breeze too quickly towards the door. So quickly I jam my hip into the entryway table where all our keys and wallets lay.

Cursing lightly, I pull open the door, a little miffed he closed her outside instead of inviting her in.

And she’s there.

Beautiful—like always—in a way that catches in my throat.

Her hair is down, damp and I want to touch it because I know how silky it is after she’s showered. Her skin looks a little pink, sensitive in the wind and that stupid divot between her brows that makes me nearly sigh. I start to wonder if cartoon hearts are popping up over my head.

Everything in my system calms.

It’s never like this with anyone else. Absolute peace. It leaves me full, unprotected, unaware of anything except the softness of her skin and the hard pillars of stone that guard her heart. And how much I want to sink into her skin, or nip at her neck—leave some kind of evidence that I’ve affected her as much as she has me.

“Hey,” she starts, her voice gruff. I can’t tell if she’s going to cry or yell at me, but she doesn’t sound happy.

“Hey?” I try to say, but it comes out like a question. “Do you want to come in?”

A loud laugh from the kitchen rumbles like thunder and she winces.

“I didn’t realize you’d be busy—I mean, god, that sounds so conceited—”

It doesn’t. It sounds good. Like she thinks she could show up out of the blue and I’d drop everything for time with her, and she’s right. It’s just how our arrangement was before—and still is for me.

I don’t give a shit what’s happening in this house, she’s the first priority I have.

I don’t care if she never wants to touch me again, I won’t leave her alone when it comes to her brothers and whatever is going on with her dad.

“Okay, Gray?”

It slips from my mouth before I even think about it.

Her face crumbles, tears weaving her cheeks and into slightly shuddering sobs—like she’s holding back a complete meltdown.

“Why did you take my brothers to your house?”

My eyes widen. This isn’t what I expected her to be upset about, but if I’ve crossed a line—

“I just took them to get some food,” I whisper, crossing and uncrossing my arms. “Aurora was busy, and I didn’t have anywhere else to take them.” It doesn’t matter how soft and understanding I make my words; I still watch them hit her like a slap.

“You could’ve just called me. I mean, why didn’t you? You didn’t have to be the fucking knight in shining armor—”

She stops, and I can see the anger slip over her skin like a veil. But she looks exhausted, so it’s almost too weak to hide the pain in her eyes when she stares back up at me.

“I was just trying to do the right thing.” I try to get her to understand.

I prepare myself, knowing what’s about to happen.

“Is that an accusation? Am I not doing the right thing?”

“Sadie—”

“You have no right to judge me.”

I’ll take all the anger she needs to give; I’ll be her punching bag if I need to. If it helps. I don’t care, as long as it wipes that despaired, empty look from her eyes.

“I am not some charity case for you and your rich little family to use. We don’t need your help. I can take care of them by myself—I’ve been doing it for years.” The last word is a ragged sob.

The match is lit, fury, dark and coiled releases through my veins as the implication of her words takes root.

For years. It echoes in my head like a pounding war drum.

“You shouldn’t have to. Not alone,” I snap, but my voice doesn’t rise even a notch. “You’re not their parent, Sadie.”

“I am!” she shouts back, and I realize that there is only silence behind me. “For now—I am. I’ll be whatever they need.”

I lower my voice, hoping she’ll follow suit.

“I just wanted your brothers to be safe. And Oliver wanted you to get some rest. Your brothers are worried for you—Oliver probably more than he worries for himself.”

“Stop.”

I step forward, crowding her just slightly towards the door. “Be mad. Yell at me if you want, but it’s not going to stop me from caring, and it’s not going to stop me from trying to help you, no matter how many times you push me away.”

“I—” She lets another shuddering breath out and I wonder if she’s ever felt as helpless with my demons as I do facing her now, worried that any moment is going to devolve into panic.

“I didn’t come here t-to yell at you.” She swipes at her eyes, her chin tilting down. But I catch a glimpse of her resigned features.

Shame.

That’s one I’m all too familiar with.

“Sadie,” I whisper, my hand raising just slightly. Her pretty gray eyes flicker up to me, a softness in her eyes appearing as she takes me in. It makes my chest tight. “Why did you come here, Gray?”

Her throat works, the slim column of it distracting enough that I cup her jaw, letting my fingertips dip to the skin along her neck.

“I don’t know how to say it,” she grumbles, a little half-whine, half-sob. It brings a strange smile to my face and she mimics it just slightly.

“Just try.”

It takes a long moment, but she does.

“Besides Rora,” she starts. “No one has ever done anything like that for them. For me. No one cares—and I… I’m sorry. That text—”

My brow furrows, but I can’t bring myself to care much about it when I’m touching her now. Who cares what she thought weeks before? She isn’t pushing me away now.

“I think I was trying to keep you away from all that.”

“All what?”

“My life.” She shrugs, and then her hands grasp my wrists. “And you still just…” Again she finds no words, but she shakes her head and looks up at me now in a way I’m not sure I’ve seen from her before.

She looks… wonderstruck. Like she’s seeing something for the first time. There is still that softness that’s new to her features and I desperately want to put this moment in a snow globe so I can see this, us in this semi-embrace, forever.

Too soon though, she pulls back.

“So I just…” A little dazed, she shakes her head. “Sorry. I didn’t come for this—I-I came to apologize, and to say thank you. So, thank you.”

I can feel her slipping away, and I don’t want to. I don’t want to do this dance with her anymore, because it doesn’t matter if I never see her again. I won’t be able to stop wanting her.

“Sadie?”

She spins back to me, the divot forming against her brow. “Yes?”

“I don’t want you to keep me away, okay? I want to be part of your life.”

“No,” she chokes out. “You don’t, Rhys. It’s messy and way too complicated.”

“I don’t care.”

“Rhys.”

“Sadie, if you told me you were joining the Witness Protection Program, I’d ask where are we going and can I pull off a beard.”

It makes her laugh, and the sound turns my skin to gooseflesh.

“Gray?”

“Yes?”

“I want to kiss you.”

If she rejects me again, I think I can take it. In fact, I worry more that if she lets me, that dark thing that lives in me will just want to take and take and take from her. I worry I will be too much, and yet still not enough.

Sadie doesn’t speak anymore, just deep breaths, mouth parted as we stare at each other.

And then, she jumps for me.