I’ve seen beautiful women. I’ve worked side-by-side with charming people. But there’s something about Sadie—sharp around the edges but soft in the center—that sticks. There’s something a little cynical about her.
I want to get to know her.
I reach the small parking lot near my apartment and ease into my usual spot. I kill the engine. The silence presses in.
The picture is still taped to my passenger-side visor. I forgot it was there. I never see it unless I’m reaching for sunglasses or fixing the mirror, but now it’s just… staring back at me.
Her name was Camilla. My girlfriend for five years. She passed away two summers ago. It was fast. Ugly. I stopped going on dates after that. Stopped thinking about what it would feel like to start over.
I glance back toward the road.
What the hell am I doing? Leaving some woman I just met alone in the library? Giving her keys like it’s nothing?
And then it hits me. I never even got her number.
I drop my head back against the seat with a groan. Brilliant, Shepard. Real smooth.
Inside the apartment, Gus is waiting by the door, tail already thumping when I unlock it.
“Hey, buddy,” I mutter, kneeling to ruffle his fur.
He nuzzles into me like I’ve been gone for days instead of hours. I feed him, fill his water, then leash him up and head back outside. The rain’s lightened, now just a steady drizzle, but the cold has settled in for the long haul.
We walk the block, Gus trotting happily beside me, nose twitching at every passing bush. I let him tug me along, half-listening to his excited huffs, but mostly… mostly thinking about her.
Sadie, in my shirt. Sadie, cursing at the weather. Sadie, cradling that mug like it was keeping her anchored.
I don’t know her. Not really. I don’t know where she’s from or what kind of murals she paints or what happened to hollow her out the way she clearly has been. But I know something deep is living in her, just beneath the surface.
And damn if I don’t want to see what it is.
Back inside, I towel Gus off and set my soaked shoes near the heater. Pouring myself a second cup of coffee, I stare at the steam curling from the mug.
You’re being ridiculous, I tell myself.You’re not some teenager tripping over a crush. You’re thirty-five. You’ve got responsibilities. A routine. A whole life.
And she’s just passing through.
Still. I can’t stop wondering if she stayed. If she’s still at the library right now, legs curled under her, flipping through books she has no intention of checking out.
And what would it mean if she did stay longer?
It doesn’t mean anything, I snap in my own head.You helped a stranger. That’s all.
But I don’t believe myself. Not really.
CHAPTER 3
Sadie
I’m standing in the middle of a wildflower field wearing white silk and nothing underneath.
The breeze is gentle, warm. There are flowers everywhere—tied to chairs, woven through the arbor, tucked into my braid. The music’s soft, some acoustic thing I probably used to hate. But right now, it’s perfect. Everything is perfect.
Max is there.
His tie is crooked. He always hated ties. But he’s grinning like he can’t believe his luck, and I’m laughing like I’ve never been hurt. My hands are shaking when he reaches for them, but he just steadies me like he always did. His touch quiets the noise.
“You ready for this?” he murmurs, brushing a kiss against my knuckles.
