We crash into the coffee table, wood splintering under our weight. Gus is barking, frantic, nails scrabbling against the floorboards as he circles us. Shepard’s voice cuts through the haze, panicked.
“Stop! Both of you—stop this now!”
Neither of us listens.
I’ve got Gabe by the collar, hauling him up, ready to drive my fist into his face again when the softest voice slices through the chaos.
“What’s going on?”
Everything stops.
I whip my head toward the bedroom doorway.
Sadie.
She’s standing there wrapped in a sheet, hair tangled and damp, eyes glassy and wide. The fabric clings to her curves, slipping at her shoulder. She looks small, fragile, but her scent hits me like a freight train—sweet and sharp, laced with the unmistakable pulse of heat.
I drop Gabe like he’s nothing and stumble toward her. “Are you okay?” My hands hover at her arms, not touching, terrified to spook her.
She nods, but her voice trembles. “I… I don’t know.”
Behind me, Gabe mutters, “I should go.”
“No,” Shepard says quickly, stepping between us. “Wait. Don’t?—”
“Can we all just… talk?” Sadie’s voice cracks, pleading. Her gray-blue eyes dart between the three of us, desperate, vulnerable. “Please.”
The silence that follows is brutal.
Finally, I swallow hard and force the words out. “You should get dressed. We’ll go up to my place. You’ll be safer there.”
Her shoulders sag in relief. She nods. “Okay.”
She disappears into the bedroom, sheet trailing behind her, and the second she’s out of sight, I round on Gabe again. “You crossed a line. Don’t think I didn’t see it. You took advantage?—”
“I didn’t,” he cuts me off, voice sharp, jaw tight. “You think I wanted that? You think this isn’t tearing me in half?”
I shove a hand through my hair, fighting the urge to swing again. “I don’t care. You should’ve stopped it.”
“She begged,” Gabe growls, low, dark. “She begged, Boone. And you weren’t here.”
“Enough,” Shepard snaps, voice like a whip. His eyes are hard behind his glasses. “Not in front of her. Not now.”
I turn away, chest heaving, rage boiling under my skin. He’s right. This isn’t the time. But Christ, it’s all I can do not to tear the room apart.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door creaks.
Sadie steps back out, swallowed in one of Shepard’s T-shirts, the hem brushing her thighs. Her bare legs make my throat close. She’s holding her arms tight around herself, cheeks flushed.
“I can’t find my clothes,” she says softly.
Shepard offers a gentle smile. “It’s okay. Wear mine for now.”
She crosses to him, hugging him tight. My stomach twists as I watch her bury her face against his chest.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
Shepard cups the back of her head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
