Heat torches its way up my chest, blooming across my neck, my cheeks, everywhere. I’ve been working in nothing but a tank top for hours and suddenly I feel suffocated—hot from the inside-out.
My jaw locks, my eyes sting, and a single, shaky breath leaves me.
“Sadie, are you alright?” Heath’s tone shifts, softer now, the voice you’d use with a feral animal you’re trying to keep calm.
I slowly open my eyes, turning to tell him what a dick his son is—and there he is.
He’s walking toward the barn with Falcon’s reins in his hand, hat backward, hair damp from sweat, shirt clinging to him just to torture me. His eyes lift at the sound of my boots on the dirt.
And I don’t think. I don’t breathe. I don’t care.
I march right up to him, not stopping until my palms find the solid wall of his chest, and I shove—hard.Harder than I intended. Hard enough that he actually stumbles a step back.
“Jesus Christ,” he bites out, catching himself. “What the hell—”
“You aresucha fucking asshole.” The words rip out of me, raw and shaking. “What did I ever do to make you hate me this much?”
My voice cracks, trembling with the effort to hold in the hot, angry tears that desperately want to pour out. I don’t even know why his opinion matters so damn much. I just know that it does.
Something softens in his eyes and his voice drops low. “What do you mean? I don’t hate you.” He glances at the bales. Then Heath. Then me. His jaw goes rigid, the way it does when he’s trying not to react. Not to show emotion. “Sade—fuck. I didn’t think you’d actually…” His voice fades, a glimmer of regret flickering in his eyes for half a second. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was just messing around.”
“Yeah?” My laugh comes out broken, flat. “You’re a real shit comedian.”
“I thought you knew,” he says quietly. “I was looking for you at lunch. I would’ve—”
“Bullshit.” My arms fold tight across my chest, as if they can hold me together. “This isn’t a joke or a game to me. I keep my head down. I do the work. You push me away? I stay away. Why would you—” The sentence fractures in the middle, betraying me. A hot tear falls before I can blink it away.
His fingers tighten around Falcon’s reins but he stays still—watching me with that unreadable, heavy look that’s been haunting me, like there’s so much he wants to say, but won’t.
Heath steps in, voice gentle again. “Alright, why don’t you go take a break, honey? Head over to the lodge. Wes will load all this up where it belongs.” He shoots Wesley a lethal glare.
I nod once, wiping my cheek, and I turn before either of them can see my face crumble entirely.
My boots carry me toward the main house without looking back, but I can feel Wesley’s gaze following me—and I hate that part of me wants to turn around and meet it. Heath calls out for me, but I don’t look back.
They are never going to take me seriously.
They are never going to seeme.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
WESLEY
Idon’tmove.
I just stand there, rooted in place like an idiot, watching Sadie storm across the yard toward the main house. Her shoulders are tight, her fists clenched like she’s holding herself together by sheer force.
Fuck.
She was right about one thing: I’ve been a complete fucking asshole to her. And for what? Because she makes me feel too much? Because she looks at me like I’m someone I’ll never be good enough to be?
Seeing the pain in her expression, the sheen of tears in her eyes, the tremble in her lip, guts me. I will never forgive myself for it. But she shouldn’t cry over me. I’m not worth her tears.
I watch her cross the yard and I can’t stop replaying the sight of her—hair falling out of her bun, tank top clinging to her skin, sweat dripping down the curve of her throat. She’d hauled nearly every bale on her own. Fifty pounds apiece. Hours of work I never meant for her to actually do.
I thought she knew it was a joke.
But she believed me. And she did it.For me.
