by JB Salsbury
“Is that what you think I did?”
She slips out from between me and the trash can. “Doesn’t matter. I really need to get home.”
She storms out the door, and only when it closes behind her do I finally manage the words, “It matters to me.”
Chapter Eleven
Sadie
“Who are you texting?”
I slip my phone into my apron, well hidden behind the cake table at a wedding while a room full of drunk wedding guests scarf down the vanilla crème cake. “Dawn.”
Ricky smiles, slices, and places cake on the plate in my hand. “You guys have been talking a lot lately.”
“Outside of you, she’s my only friend.”
“What about Jackson?” He winks.
I try to hide my response to hearing Jack’s name because what the fuck? I don’t want to have a reaction to hearing his name. I thought my heart was done with him, I thought we had both moved on, but leave it to my traitorous heart to come back to life at the mention of his name. It’s infuriating.
“I guess we’re friends. I wouldn’t say we’re close or that we ever will be.”
Because I’ll make sure he doesn’t get close. If he finds out what I’ve been through, he’ll tell my parents, and that’s not the worst of it. He’ll no longer look at me with hunger in his eyes. He won’t see me as the woman I once was, but as a broken, scared, vulnerable, and naïve girl. I can handle his distance, I can even handle him giving up on me, but I can’t handle him feeling sorry for me.
One of the main reasons I loved him when we were young was because, despite my learning disabilities, he always treated me like an intellectual equal. He’d even say I was smarter than he was, which is laughable. I’m not the one who got into NYU. It’s taken me five years to do what most people do in four, and my grades are shit with my best efforts.
I pull out my phone and read Dawn’s reply to my last text.
* * *
He showed up in a Benz and took you to a luxury restaurant for breakfast? And you’re not in love with him? What’s wrong with you?
* * *
Money doesn’t impress me. He ate one and a half Surfer breakfast burritos right after though. That did impress me.
* * *
I got heartburn just reading that. Those burritos are monstrous. What else do you like about him?
* * *
I take some time to think about that one. What else do I like about Jack? Before, there wasn’t a thing about him I didn’t like. Now? It’s hard to say.
I type my response.
* * *
I don’t really know him anymore.
* * *
He’s changed?
* * *
Yes.
* * *
How?
* * *
He’s changed in a lot of ways, but mostly… I chew my lip as I type back and hit send.
* * *
The old Jack never would’ve let me go.
* * *
It isn’t until late that night when I hear my phone ping with a new message from Dawn.
* * *
Maybe he hasn’t.
Two weeks go by quickly. Between school, working on my paintings, and picking up shifts at the resort so that I can get my shifts covered this weekend when I go home, I have zero free time. It’s been easy to avoid Jack’s calls with the excuse of being busy. The couple times I have answered, I was forced to get off quickly because my shift was starting or I needed to get back to work before the paint on my canvas dried.
Ricky pulls his truck up curbside at the airport. “Are you sure you don’t need me to come with you?”
I gather my duffle bag and purse. “I’m sure. I’ll be fine. It’s only for two nights.”
He reaches behind my neck and pulls me in for a kiss to my forehead. “All right, babe. I’ll pick you up on Sunday.”
“If you’re busy, I can take an Uber—”
“Sunday. I’ll be right here.”
My chest warms. “Thank you, Ricky.”
I shut my door and he drives off, merging into airport traffic. It’s late on Friday and the airport is crowded with people. Crowds and bodies knocking against mine makes my skin clammy and my pulse pound a little harder.
I manage to get through security and hunt down my gate with thirty minutes to spare, so I grab a coffee and settle in. I play games on my phone, delete spam emails, and finally decide to message Dawn. She doesn’t get back to me right away. Maybe she’s out having a social life on a Friday, rather than sitting in an airport alone, waiting to go home to see family and answer a million questions about my life and if I’m being safe and making good choices.
Boarding the plane, I put my phone on airplane mode and tuck it into my purse. In one short hour, I’ll be back in Las Vegas.
“Princess!” My dad’s thick arms wrap around my shoulders and the heat of his lips press against the top of my head. “You’re home.”
“Hey, Daddy,” I say and wrap my arms around his massive torso.
The second he releases me my mom smothers me in a hug, pressing kisses all over my face. “We missed you so much. You can’t stay away that long anymore.”
I force a smile and say okay even though I know I’m going to keep prolonging the time between visits until I’m sure I won’t slip up and spill my secrets. “Where’s Carey?”
I wouldn’t be surprised if my seventeen-year-old brother had more important things to do than pick his sister up from the airport.
“Football practice.” My dad takes my luggage and wraps an arm over my shoulder, and my mom holds my hand as we walk to the garage.
“Assassin!” a male voice calls from across the terminal.
My dad waves, and when he does, he gets the attention of others. The murmurs and shouts from UFL fans get louder and louder, until my dad shifts my mom and I under each arm protectively. At my dad’s truck, he tosses my stuff in the bed, then opens the door and helps me inside.
My mom climbs in the passenger side and twirls around to look at me. “You look so good, baby. I missed you. I’m so glad you’re home.”
I laugh at her excitement.
“Are you hungry?” Dad asks. Leave it to him to always be thinking of food.
“I could eat.”
We chat about school, art, and all the go-to subjects that are safe to discuss until we pull up at Nori Pizza and Italian. Because of who my dad is, and because this has been our family’s go-to restaurant my entire life, we get seated right away. We don’t need to look at the menu before we order, so the three of us sit around staring at each other until Mom breaks the silence.
“So you’ve been talking to Jack again?”
I don’t have to ask how she found out. My mom and Jack’s mom, Layla, are good friends, as are our dads. “Thanks for giving him my phone number.”
She doesn’t pick up the sarcasm and instead squeezes my hand. “You’re welcome, honey. How are things between you guys?”
I shrug and pick at a piece of garlic bread. “We’re only friends.”
My dad swallows a cheekful of garlic bread. “I’ve heard that before. About three days before I caught you two suckin’ face in his car.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. This time we really are just friends, I promise.”
“Good,” my dad says as he fishes another piece of bread from the basket. “Never did trust that kid.”
“That’s only because you think he’s exactly like his dad was before he met Layla.”
I didn’t know Blake then, obviously, but I’ve heard stories. Jack does have some Daniels blood in him—Blake and his brother, Braeden, are equally as beautiful, but Jack was never a playboy like his dad and uncle. I was always enough for him.
Until he moved to the big city and got a taste of what it’s like to be a big shot. I’m sure he’s been with a million women since we broke up. My dad might be right—Jack may be as bad as his dad was before he met Layla.
“Are you okay
?” My mom presses her palm to my forehead. “Do you have a fever?”
I duck to avoid her hand and assure her I’m fine. “I was thinking I’d hit the mall early tomorrow. I need to find a dress for Dad’s thing tomorrow night.”
My mom and I both despise shopping. We prefer more practical clothes that can be bought at Walmart or Target over the fancy shit people spend a fortune on at department stores.
“Eve dropped off a few dresses for us. I’m sure there’s one that’ll fit you.”
My auntie Eve has an eye for fashion, thank God. “Lifesaver. That would be great.”
“So tell us about what you’ve been working on,” my mom says.
My dad’s hazel eyes zero in on me, and I force out the semi-truthful answer I’ve been practicing all week. “It’s an exposé series. Thought-provoking. Relevant.”
Exposing.
Humiliating.
Necessary.
Chapter Twelve
Sadie
Apparently this award my dad is accepting is the first of its kind and it’s a really big deal. The event is being held at the Las Vegas Waldorf Astoria and everyone who is anyone in the UFL will be in attendance. They’re even making my brother wear a tux. I’m grateful three of the five dresses Eve dropped off fit me, and I pick the one I feel the most beautiful in.
I run my fingers through the sheer fabric of the full-length skirt, finding a slit that cuts to mid-thigh. The bodice is formfitting to the waist, thank goodness, because the back is crisscross spaghetti straps that tie on the lower back. I’ll need the support to go braless. It’s sexy and elegant, and, no surprise, it’s navy.
Eve always says I look best in blues.
I pull my long hair back in a low twisty bun that looks sloppy because it is sloppy, but with my makeup and the sequins in the gown, it looks intentional. With my feet shoved into a pair of nude patent leather ankle strap heels—again, thank you, Mom—I walk down the long hallway of my parents’ house to meet the rest of my family, who is waiting for me in the kitchen. My dad and brother whistle, and my mom smiles with her hand on her chest as if she’s trying to slow her heart.
“You look hot, Sade!”
I do a slow twirl for Carey. “Thanks, bro.”
“You really do look amazing, honey.” My mom presses a kiss to my temple then wipes off the smudge of lipstick that she left behind.
My dad scowls. “That’s the dress Eve brought over? She didn’t bring something, I don’t know, baggier? With a pattern on it, like anchors or something?”
“A bigger dress with anchors? Dad…”
“What?” He tugs absently on his collar. The man has always hated dressing up. Not that I blame him. It takes a lot of seams and starch to wrap that big ol’ body. “Nautical’s a style.”
“Maybe for babies.”
He kisses my cheek. “You look incredible. Anyone who looks or speaks or even thinks about you inappropriately tonight is going to get his jaw broken.”
“I concur,” Carey says while shoving a fistful of grapes in his mouth.
I salute them both and motion to my brother. “When was the last time you fed this kid?”
My mom sighs. “Growth spurt.”
“Again?” I motion to his mop of black hair that stands a foot taller than my head. “He’s huge.”
My dad thumps his chest. “Good genes.” He grips Carey’s shoulder. “Put the grapes down, son. They’ll have food there.”
It’s a ten-minute drive to the resort where the party is being held. Carey helps me disembark from Dad’s lifted truck so I don’t fall off my heels, and my dad does the same for my mom. A man in a tux greets us at the door, and we follow him to the banquet room.
The place is crowded already. The guest of honor, it seems, showed up last. The room erupts in cheers and catcalling, hoots and hollers. A big palm comes up from behind my dad, squeezing his shoulder, and when he turns around, Dad reveals Jack’s dad, Blake.
“Nice of them to honor you right before you die, old man.”
My dad glares at him, but there’s a grin on his face. “I’m not that old.”
“Old enough.” Blake’s eyes fix on me, and I see so much of Jack in them. The green is identical, and his smile and bone structure is spot-on. The rest he gets from his mom. “Sadie, what’s up, princess?” He wraps me in a firm hug. “Happy you could make it.”
“Thanks, Uncle Blake.”
Jack’s mom, Layla, comes to stand at his side. She’s a petite blonde who is dwarfed next to her husband. She’s wearing a gorgeous emerald dress, and she wraps me up in a hug. “You’re home. I’m so happy to see you.”
“Thanks, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Not that my parents gave me much choice.
“This makes a lot more sense now,” Layla says under her breath to her husband.
“Yeah, it does,” Blake mumbles from behind his beer.
Layla hugs me again and holds on for a beat too long. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome?” I laugh uncomfortably. “I’m not exactly sure what I did.”
Blake grins that cocky smile that Jack has perfected. “You brought him home.”
My stomach bottoms out. My expression falls.
Then, a tall, smiling man in a tux holding two glasses of champagne steps up to us. “Hello, Sadie.”
Jack.
His eyes move over my body, this dress so snug over my breasts and ribcage I can hardly take a full breath. Once he ends at my face, he offers me the glass. “You look incredible.”
“Thank you.” I nod toward the glass. “But I don’t drink.”
He frowns. “Since when?”
“She has a mild allergy to alcohol.” My mom feeds Jack the lie I fed her a year ago. “I’ll take that.” She snags the offered glass. “Thank you, Jackson.”
Jackson? He’s even having our families call him by his fancy New York name? Speaking of family, they all seem to disappear into the crowd—except for my brother, who keeps his eye on Jack and me from a safe distance.
I lean close. “What are you doing here?”
“You acquired an allergy to booze in the last two years?” His eyes roam my face and squint.
My shoulders back, neck stiff, I nod. “It happens.”
He casually sips his champagne. “Whatever you say.”
“Why are you here?” I hiss.
“Are you kidding?” His eyes drink me in again. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
Jack
One would think that the angry flush coloring Sadie’s cheeks, the hard line of her mouth as she spits words at me, and the firmness of her jaw as she grinds her molars would make her less attractive. One would be very wrong.
Goddamn, I missed this side of her.
“You’re lying. You came here to see me.”
I lean in close, smirk, and whisper, “Never said I didn’t.”
An adorable growl rumbles up from her throat, and I have the irrational urge to feel it against my lips, my neck, feel the sting of her bite on my shoulder—whoa, Jackson. Reel it in.
I turn my head and suck in two lungfuls of air that aren’t tainted by the clean, floral smell wafting off her body. I noticed during breakfast last weekend that her fragrance has changed, like she switched body wash and shampoo, but underneath the cloying fragrance, I pick up the crisp, dick-hardening essence of my Sadie.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Oh, come on. Your dad is as much my family as mine is yours. My parents invited me to come. When you mentioned you’d be here, well…” I shrug because there’s really nothing more to say. “You sweetened the deal.”
“God, you make me sound like a bonus check.” She crosses her arms under her ample cleavage.
I force my eyes to her lips, something I learned to do at an early age in order to hold on to my young life. I saw what happened to boys who got caught ogling Sadie’s tits. Even my own dad would temple-thump my friends for checking out Sadie. When Carey was eight, he kneed me in
the balls for watching Sadie’s ass when she bent over to tie her shoe, so yeah, call me programmed for self-preservation.
“There isn’t enough money in the world to pay for what time with you’d be worth,” I say.
“What are you doing?”
I sip my champagne, slip a hand in my pocket, and shrug. “What do you mean?”
“Are you flirting with me?”
“Maybe I am.”
Anger washes from her features and she looks… tired. “Well don’t. You’re wasting your time.” She gathers the long skirt of her dress in her fists. “I’m going to go find my seat.”
Her long, lithe form disappears into the crowd, the gentle sway of her hips—pain erupts at my temple.
“What the fuck, Carey?” I rub my head.
The seventeen-year-old who’s my size glares at me while he shoves two puff pastry appetizers into his mouth. “Thath’s my thisther.”
“No shit, Gigantor. I wasn’t being disrespectful. I was making sure she got through the crowd okay.”
His glare tightens, and damn, he looks more and more like Jonah every day. “You mean making sure her ass gets through the crowd? Because your pervy laser beams were set on the waist down, dickface.”
“Jesus, what the hell happened to the cute kid I could bribe with toys and candy?”
He snags a handful of shrimp from a waiter passing by and shoves one in his mouth. “He grew up. You can try to bribe me with hundred-dollar-bills, but I’ll still feed you your own testies if you fuck with my sister again.”
I grab his elbow to keep him from walking away. “What do you mean again?”
He glares at my hand on his arm, but he can chill the fuck out because I’m still older and we’re equal in height. “You can’t be that stupid.”
