Page 30 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

“She had a heart attack last year, died in her sleep, but even now she’s still giving to us. Left everything to me—her home and more savings than I would have guessed.”

“Then you moved to Windfall,” I say. The final puzzle piece that led to us sitting here, sharing a rock and our trauma.

She gets a faraway look on her face. “Her farm felt lonely after she was gone. More isolating as Max got older, and he started struggling with friends at school, coming home brooding and sad. So when I learned about your dad’s book and that E was back in Windfall, moving felt right. The inheritance and sale of her land took the pressure off me financially.” She dusts some dirt off our rock. “I decided it was time to face my past.”

“You’re amazing, Sadie. To do all of that on your own.” Leave everyone she knew. Start fresh. Search out a grandmother she hadn’t seen in years. “I’m amazed by you.”

She exhales and nods slightly. “I’m pretty amazed by me too.”

“I hate that you lost that job, though. The museum work. I know how much you loved the internship, how excited you were for the promotion.”

“It was a blow for sure, but . . .” She smiles at the kids busy doing their art. Except Olivia, who’s breaking twigs and stabbing the earth. “I started an online business a few years ago—a more accessible space for regular people to shop for great artwork at affordable prices. I focus on uplifting new artists, giving them a wider audience. I’ve even started working for larger offices, building their corporate collections. And I have an incredible opportunity on the horizon.” She elbows my side. “What about you? E said you didn’t go back to law school.”

I could change the subject, evade the details of my fall from grace, but she’s sitting primly on her part of the rock. I’m sitting like someone shoved a wire rod up my back. If I want to earn Sadie’s trust and rebuild our friendship, truth is the only answer.

I wipe the sweat from under my sunglasses, lift and replace my ball cap. “Like I said at the diner, losing you was beyond rough. I could barely breathe, let alone concentrate long enough to study. I was angry all the time, furious at everyone and everything. So.” I sigh and grit my teeth. “I just gave up in the early years. Felt out of touch with people. Tended bar because it was easier than school and earned decent cash. Hung out with a bunch of idiots, provoking fights just to feel something besides dead, and I got a bunch of ink no one would call art.”

I glower at the bloody rose on my right forearm. The shading is atrocious. “Later on, I stuck with bartending because it was familiar. Made friends with an eccentric neighbor who lives to give me hell. Her name’s Mirielle, and you’d love her sass. But I mostly stopped thinking long term, planning ahead, and being more productive.” I run my tongue over my cracked tooth. “It all just messed with my head.”

Sadie presses her hand to my thigh, the tips of her fingers landing past the edge of my cargo shorts, grazing my skin. I practically faint from her light touch.

“What you went through was unimaginable. Your father broke your trust, tore you from your life and everything you knew. But you’re here now, trying to get to know your son. Putting him first, instead of barreling ahead with introducing yourself. I bet you’ve been stronger than you think.”

“I mean, I have been working out a ton.” I flex my arm dramatically, the cuff of my yellow gym-bro shirt straining with the effort.

She snorts. “I’ve noticed.”

“Have you?” I resuscitate my dormant smolder, enjoying this. Us being light together.

Her smirk is pure teasing. “That shirt doesn’t hide much.”

“Fucking Lennon,” I grumble. “He needs new company shirts.”

She laughs at my annoyance. I finally relax more, but there’s no missing how her lips part. Her gaze lingers on my chest. With interest? As though she’s still attracted to me?

She readjusts and gives my thigh a tender squeeze. “When things were toughest with your family, I bet you helped look after them.”

I frown, unsure how she’d know about that—my book club of two with Mom, keeping an eye on everyone, even when they thought I vanished. “A bit, yeah.”

“Because you’re a good soul, Des. You might have postured a lot with your brothers, but you’d go and fix E’s bike after fighting and pretend it wasn’t you. When Lennon got sick with mono, you ran around school collecting all his schoolwork for him and let him think Callahan did that. The day your mom got in that car accident with your brothers and everyone turned up late and exhausted, you cleaned the house and had dinner waiting for them, but you told your mom Delilah’s mother made it.”

I smile. “My chicken, tomato soup, and rice casserole.” A can of tomato soup, frozen vegetables, rice, and chicken baked in the oven. A dish I learned when my mom had been sick with the flu, and I’d taken over cooking duties for a few days.

Sadie nudges my foot with hers. “Still the only thing you can cook?”

I chuckle. “Sadly. Mirielle tried to teach me crepes. It didn’t go well. What about you? I bet you’re a Michelin-starred chef by now.”

“Hardly, but Max likes cooking. It’s fun to experiment together.”

I watch him a moment, how utterly focused he is on his art, and the strangest pressure winches my chest. “Maybe I could take him to a cooking class eventually. Do something fun with him one on one, after he knows who I am. Get him busy and out of his head.”

“I bet he’d love that. And that’s exactly what I’m talking about—how you think of what others need when they’re down, what will make them happy. You cooked for your family that night because you wanted to ease your mom’s burden, and you hid doing it because you worry people will think you’re soft. Truth is, you’ve always been soft, Des. The tattoos and hard exterior are just a disguise.”

“Maybe.” But the heat of her this close settles me in a way I can’t quite describe. Attraction is there—always there with Sadie—but I suddenly feel more grounded too. Almost at peace. “Guess it’s time I quit pretending I don’t care, which includes caring about you. I know I said this before, but if you need anything at any point, please ask. Even if it’s just to talk through things about Max, or if you need to vent. Or if other life stuff is stressing you out. And I have some money I want to give you. It’s not optional this time, so please don’t make me slip it under your door.”

“Okay.” Her eyelashes flutter as she blinks up at me. “I appreciate that more than you know, and”—more blinking—“I’ve really missed this.”

“Missed what?”