Page 96 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

His eyes fill and his chin trembles, but he sits so stiffly I start to worry this news isn’t as welcome as I imagined. Then he’s all over me, hugging me and shaking and crying, not speaking, just holding on for dear life. I’m getting that this is a thing for him. How he processes feelings. Internalizing like his Uncle E, going quiet, then exploding in a rush of emotion.

My heart just ballooned to three times its size. I squeeze him back, cup his head and kiss his cheek. Sadie gives her own waterworks performance, then gets in on the action, hugging me from behind and kissing us both, while I shake slightly and hold on for dear life. Because honestly. This much happiness terrifies the living shit out of me.

TWENTY-EIGHT

The sky has a leak in it. Or a faulty drainage system. Whatever the cause, the constant rain is feeling more Noah’s ark and less family-nesting cozy. Tomorrow’s my last hike with my Littlewing group, and I have no doubt there will be a few sulking troops in my preteen platoon.

To compensate and earn my official Happy Hiking Leader merit badge, I decided to make my mini squadron matching braided bracelets in the Littlewing colors of green, white, and exhausting yellow. (Olivia can complain all she wants.) Which means I need to get my naked ass in gear.

I grab jeans and a T-shirt from my drawer in our room—mine and Sadie’s, because my disaster life somehow became awesome. I can’t imagine ever getting used to falling asleep with her. Keeping her tucked close into me. Loving on her. Waking her up by kissing my way down her body. Cooking Max the breakfast I’ve learned he likes—egg-in-the-hole toast with a side of fresh berries. I have only five days left before I head to my Duke apartment and start school. I plan to make every second count.

Case in point, the second Jasmine’s mom picked Max up for a movie in town, I abducted Sadie from her office, tossed her over my shoulder, and proceeded to defile her on our bed.

I pop my head into our bathroom and whistle. “That’s my favorite outfit of yours.”

“I’m not wearing clothes,” Sadie deadpans from the shower.

“Exactly.”

She wipes condensation from the glass, then puts on a show, soaping up her breasts and swaying her hips.

A feral noise escapes my throat. “If I didn’t have three more bracelets to make, I’d be in there with you.”

“You actually weren’t invited, because I have to get back to work. But for what it’s worth, watching your man hands attempting to craft is shockingly sexy.”

Guess I’ll be saving a bracelet for later tonight.

I quit pestering Sadie and head downstairs, stopping to tidy the shoes by our front door. I grab my bag of colored thread and sit on our sofa, then kick my bare feet up on our coffee table.

Trust me. I’m annoying myself. But I can’t stop.

I glance at the stack of textbooks on the end table and debate cracking those open instead of crafting. The prospect has me doing a full-body sigh. I’ll have plenty of hours to fill when I’m living on my own next week. Braiding string seems like a much better use of my time.

I gather the colors and twist a knot at the top, then pin it to my jeans, smiling as I picture Sadie getting hot watching me doing something as simple as braiding string. I gather the first threads, ready to get these bracelets done, but our phone rings.

A week ago, I wouldn’t have answered. Sadie’s house. Sadie’s phone. Now that I’m living in our territory, I grab the cordless from the end table and hit talk. “Jones and Bower residence.”

Silence greets me. Then a deep voice says, “Everything’s starting to make more sense.”

I squint, trying to place the familiar voice. Then it hits me—GQ Joseph. The guy hasn’t stopped nagging Sadie since they lost that gallery job. I’ve caught her turning down his calls several times. Like clockwork, she gets quiet afterward, and stress lines sink into her forehead. No matter how often I suggest she tell him to back off, or remind her losing the job wasn’t her fault, she introverts and shuts down.

Guess it’s time to step in on her behalf. “I’m not sure what your problem is, Joseph, but jobs come and go. I get that this was a big one, but Sadie’s upset about losing it too. Guilting her and harping on it isn’t helping anyone.”

“I assume you’re living there,” is all he says.

“I am,” I reply forcefully. Not only did he avoid the topic at hand, he’s focusing on Sadie’s personal life. My personal life. Maybe he was into her after all.

“What did Sadie tell you about losing this job?” he asks.

“That Sarah was being difficult, not willing to negotiate the terms Sadie wanted, and Sarah wound up hiring someone else.”

This next pause feels unpleasantly weighted. “Sarah didn’t choose someone else as head curator for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She chose Sadie and me, and Sadie turned it down.”

I frown, sure I heard him wrong. “Sadie wasn’t applying for the head curator position.”

“No, she wasn’t. But Sarah was blown away by our presentation. She wants the mentorship program to be helmed by the curator, and she likes thinking out of the box, giving people chances, even if they have less experience. So she offered Sadie the career opportunity of a lifetime, and Sadie turned it down.”

“Why the hell would she do that?” I’m on my feet in seconds, struggling to process what he said.