Page 129 of Into Pitch

She exhales slowly, then pulls me into a hug so tight it knocks the air from my lungs.

“I hate this and I hate I can’t fix it.” She mutters into my hair.

“I don’t need fixing,” I whisper back.

She pulls away then, holding my shoulders with a set of deeply fierce eyes. “You need protecting.”

“I’ve got that covered,” I muse softly.

“You’re batshit, Sadie.”

I snort. “Oh, I’m deeply aware.”

She shakes her head, lips twitching despite herself. “Fine, but you have to promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“If this ever turns into something you can’t handle—if you feel like you’re drowning—you come to me. No matter what.” She says with conviction.

“I promise.”

She squeezes my shoulders one last time. “Then, I’ll be here. Even if I don’t like it.”

I smile, emotion clogging my throat. “Thank you.”

She groans again and moves to grab her purse again. “When’s the wedding?”

I bark a laugh and shake my head. “I’m not sure if there will be one.”

Her curse follows her out the door, my hand gripping the frame as I smile after her.

“I love you, Imogen!” I shout.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the press!” She barks, waving over her shoulder.

Grinning, I step back into the bus and close the door behind her. The future stretching wide and terrifying and entirely mine.

It’s been a really long day, mainly because I dropped a tiny bomb on Sadie and haven’t heard a word back. Which—as promised—I’m giving her space. Space that fucking sucks, but space none-the-less.

Shoving my key into my apartment door, I begin to lay out exactly the routine I’m going to lose myself in to keep myself from thinking of Sadie. The lock giving way and the door swinging inward to an apartment that shouldn’t have lights.

I freeze when I find the bane of all my problems.

Sadie is sitting on my kitchen counter like she belongs there. Bare legs swinging idly. Her curved frame clad in black lingerie that sits perfectly against her pale skin. I swallow and slowly shut the door at my back, my eyes sliding to the loose hair that falls a little wild over her shoulders. Her barefoot brushing the cabinet door as if she’s testing gravity itself—and my sanity.

She looks at me and just smiles.

My brain… stalls.

I don’t ask how she got in, I already know. She’s a clever little shit and I guarantee she watched me just as I have watched her. It’s not a leap to think she might also be good at picking a lock.

“Breaking and entering,” I say calmly. “That’s a felony.”

She tilts her head. “So is kidnapping.”

Fair.

My gaze tracks her without permission; her posture, the way she’s braced her hands on the counter, and the subtle tension in her shoulders that tells me this isn’t all that casual.