Our father.
It all leads back to him.
And now Sadie’s pulled into this shit.
She takes another sip of her water, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders. I want to ask her again what I can do for her, but I risk repeating myself and sounding more helpless than I feel. Maybe she just needs me to be here.
She finishes her water and then leans into me, nuzzling her head against my shoulder, reminding me of how much smaller she is. Fragile.
We sit there.
We sit there for a long time with only the sound of the fridge and a car driving by coming through the window.
My cock is hyper aware of the beautiful woman next to me, and it reacts in kind. The feel of her. Her scent. I force myself to ignore it all. No, not ignore—absorb, but don’t act upon it.
I appreciate every bit that is my woman.
Yeah, my fucking woman.
The old Miles might have taken advantage of the situation, advantage of a woman’s neediness.
I won’t do that to Sadie. I care about this woman. Odd, as part of me never imagined caring about any woman. But Sadie Hopkins has somehow managed to get under my skin, and she’s inching toward my heart.
It’s a scary thought, yet it’s not scary at the same time. Part of it feels as natural to me as rebuilding a transmission on a bike.
Is this what love is? Is this what Austin feels for Carly? Is this why he braved her crazy father and that storm and everything else? I haven’t known Sadie long enough to even think about love… Have I?
I kiss the top of her head and inhale the fragrant scent of her hair. Raspberries and vanilla.
She pulls away from me slightly and sets the glass on an end table. Then she turns to me, her eyes sunken and sad.
“Miles?”
“Yes?”
“Take me to bed. Please.”
16
SADIE
Miles helps me into a stand,and for some reason, I start talking. It’s been a crazy night. From the fight to his jealousy to learning about Joey… It’s all so surreal.
I’m not alone in this though. Deep down, maybe I knew Joey was dead but couldn’t admit it. There was no news from him for so long. I never understood why we were estranged, why he wouldn’t want to talk to me, his baby sister.
But I held out hope. Maybe having him gone is better. Now I know he doesn’t hate me, isn’t avoiding me because I did something. Except…I don’t want him gone.
“My best memory of Joey is from when I was five years old. A big snowstorm came through. Nothing new around here. Once it was over, snow was piled high in huge drifts around Larson Hill. Joey and his friends were going sledding, and I wanted to go so badly. Mom said I was too young, that I wouldn’t be able to stay warm enough, but Joey took one look at me, his eyes smiling.”
I continue talking as my memory hurls backward and the scene becomes vivid in my mind. I can’t help but smile.
“I’ll take care of her, Ma. Let her go.”
My mom twists her lips. “I don’t know, Joe. She’s awfully little.”
“I know how to keep her warm.” Joey goes to the closet and pulls out my purple snowsuit and then he disappears for a moment and returns with one of my sweaters and two pairs of his socks. He pushes the sweater over my head, and I laugh when he tousles my messed-up hair.
“I need two old bread bags, Ma,” he says.