What Happens Between Friends (20 page)

And that would not do.

“I hope you know you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like.”

Sadie smiled weakly. “I appreciate that but...it seems silly to prolong the inevitable. Especially as Phoebe—that’s my friend—could use my help sooner rather than later.”

She waited, held her breath, but her mom remained silent. As if she had no idea what Sadie was trying to ask. As if she had no desire to fill in the blanks, make this easier on her daughter.

Crap.

“If I had the money now—just a few thousand dollars,” Sadie said, “I could leave right away. I’d pay you back,” she added. “Every cent. Plus interest.”

Irene sat back, her shoulders snapping against the chair as if someone had shoved her. “You want me to give you money so you can go to California?”

“Loan me some money.
Loan.
” Not give. God,
give
was too close to a handout. “Like a...a business transaction.” She leaned forward, laid her hands on the table, palms up, beseeching. “We could draw up papers if you’d like, make it legal... Anything you want. Whatever you need.”

Whatever it would take.

“You know Will and I want to help you in any way we can,” Irene said, clasping Sadie’s hands in her own. Relief flowing through her like a balm, Sadie shut her eyes. “Any way,” her mother repeated, squeezing Sadie’s fingers, “except that.”

Sadie’s blood went cold, her fingers went lax. “What?”

“I won’t give you money.”

She yanked her hands free. “Why not?”

Sadie stared at her mother’s back as Irene stood and carried the teacup to the sink. What had just happened? She’d lowered herself, had gone against her principles and none of that even mattered? Since walking away from this house all those years ago, Sadie had never, not once, asked her mother for anything. And the one time she did—the one, single time she needed her mother’s help—she was turned down without ceremony, without care.

Her stomach burning, her chest aching, Sadie slowly stood, the sound of the chair’s legs against the tile floor scraping across her already-raw nerve endings. “I don’t need much,” she said, not caring that she sounded angry. Frantic. “Just enough to tide me over for a few weeks. I could probably make due with a thousand. Fifteen hundred at the most. That’s nothing to you and Will.”

But to Sadie it was everything. Enough for her to start a whole new life. Again.

To escape this life.

Irene, her back still to Sadie at the sink, just shook her head.

Sadie shoved her hands through her hair, only then remembering it was pulled back. She yanked the band out and threw it onto the table. “I don’t understand. You spent almost one hundred times that on Charlotte’s education.”

Now her mother turned, her eyebrows raised in that condescending way Sadie hated so much. “If you want to go back to school, Will and I would be more than happy to finance your education.”

“Sure, you’ll drop over a hundred grand if I decide to become a teacher or a nurse but you won’t give me a lousy fifteen hundred dollars to do what
I
want?”

“What you want?” Irene asked with a humorless laugh. “Do you even know what that is?”

“I want my own life. That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Sadie’s voice rose, her shoulders tightened. “I don’t want to live in Shady Grove, I don’t want the life you have and this is your way of punishing me. Of keeping me here.”

Irene sighed, hung her head for a moment. “I’m not trying to punish you, honey. And I can’t stop you from leaving. I never could stop you from leaving. But I refuse to enable you.”

“Enable me?” Sadie asked, her eyes wide. “It wouldn’t be enabling. It would be helping me to go after my dreams.”

“If I thought that was true, I’d write you a check this instant.”

“It is true,” Sadie cried, crossing to stand in front of her mother. “How can you even doubt that?”

“Because you’re not following your dreams,” Irene said with a sad smile. “You never were. I used to think you were running from us—from me and Will. From Shady Grove and small-town life...” She touched Sadie’s cheek. “But over the years I’ve come to realize you’re not running away at all. You’re chasing after your father.”

Sadie’s head snapped back. “That’s ridiculous. Dad’s gone. He’s not coming back. You think I don’t understand that?”

“Understand it? Yes. But I don’t think you’ve ever been able to accept it. Not fully.” Her mother’s voice was soft and filled with so much compassion Sadie’s teeth hurt.

And she wasn’t done yet.

“You’re not following your dreams,” Irene repeated. “And you’re not living your own life. You’re living his.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“S
ADIE
,” J
AMES
SAID
flatly as he walked into the office Wednesday afternoon and found her sitting behind her desk. Max trailed in behind him. “You’re here.”

She didn’t even look up from the computer. “Nothing gets past you.”

He clenched his teeth. “It’s after four.”

“Yes. I realize that.”

“Then why are you still here?”

Damn it, she wasn’t supposed to be. She was supposed to be gone at four. Hadn’t he spent the past fifteen minutes driving around before coming here, giving her plenty of time to finish her workday and be on her way?

She lifted her head long enough to give him a bland look. “I’m using the computer.”

“What’s wrong with the computer at your mom’s house?”

“Not a thing.” She looked up again, noticed Max behind him and grinned. “Hey, Max-a-million. What’s shaking there, handsome?”

Max, shy and quiet as his dad around most people, kept his head down. Shrugged.

“What’d you do wrong to have to spend time with this guy?” she asked, jerking her thumb at James.

Max raised his eyes and stepped closer to James. Sent him a worried look.

“She’s kidding,” James said, grabbing the file with the order numbers he needed.

“Not even a little.” But she winked at Max. “Don’t worry about Elvis,” she continued when the dog came over to investigate the boy. “He’s a big old teddy bear. Do you have a dog?”

Max shook his head, held his hand out for Elvis to sniff. The dog licked his arm and Max looked up at James. “He’s bigger than Zoe.”

James nodded, pulled out his phone and dialed the number for the distributor. “I need a few minutes to call this place, then we’ll get going. Okay?”

Max kept petting Elvis. Glanced up at Sadie then at the floor. “Does he like to play fetch?”

“Loves it,” Sadie said. “But he hates when I play. Says I throw like a girl.” She gave an exaggerated eye roll and Max grinned.

He scuffed the toe of his sneaker along the concrete floor. Scratched the back of his neck. “Uncle James has a brand-new pack of tennis balls in his truck.”

Sadie clapped her hands onto her thighs and stood. “Well, how about we break into them? I’m sure Elvis would be grateful to have someone throw the ball who can actually aim it properly.”

Wide-eyed, Max stared up at James. “Can I?”

James almost told him no, but then realized that response was only because he was still angry with Sadie. Because he didn’t want to be around her.

“Sure,” he said, unable to think of a good reason to keep his nephew in the shop with him while he worked. Max ran off, calling the dog while Sadie followed more slowly. “Don’t let him run into the road,” James told her as she reached the door.

“I’d never let a dog run into the road.”

“I meant Max.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, blinked innocently. “Oh? I thought I’d have him play in traffic, but if you say not to, well, then...” She shrugged and sashayed out the door, her hips swaying under her long skirt.

James hoped like hell she was kidding. Hoped even more the kid made it back alive.

To be on the safe side, he crossed to the window, relieved when Sadie led boy and dog down the knoll to the far edge of his parents’ backyard. Couldn’t tear himself away as Sadie said something to Max that had him laughing, Elvis running around them. A breeze picked up, lifted the ends of her hair, molded that skirt to the roundness of her thighs, the slight, feminine curve of her stomach.

His mouth dried and he swallowed. Hard. He’d touched her there, had skimmed his hands over her legs, had trailed his lips across the incredibly soft skin of her belly. Had tasted her.

And now, after finally telling her what was in his heart—only to have her rip that heart from his chest and grind it under her heel as she walked away—he was still mooning over her like some goddamn love-struck teenager.

The more things changed, he thought, deliberately turning away, the more they freaking stayed the same.

He called the distributor and ordered doors and windows for a job they were starting next week, then returned a few customer calls, all the while pacing the small confines of the office. All the while avoiding that window.

Sliding his phone into his pocket, he glanced at her desk and cringed. What a mess. How did anyone work that way, with files stacked haphazardly and papers scattered across the surface? It was enough to make his hands shake with the need to straighten those piles, to organize the papers.

Though Sadie was messy, that disorganization didn’t seem to affect her work. As much as he hated to admit it, she’d done a good job for Montesano Construction. It shouldn’t piss him off even more.

But it did.

He slid to the right, glanced at her computer. The screen was blank. Frowning, he rubbed his fingertips together, reached for the mouse only to snatch his hand back. Whatever she’d been looking at wasn’t his business.

Except, it was. Sort of. As her boss’s son and part of Montesano Construction, he had every right to know what she’d been doing on a company computer. More than that, it was his responsibility...no, no...more like his duty to—

The hell with it.

He moved the mouse, bringing the monitor to life. A website popped up.

Amtrak’s website.

She was checking prices, he noted, feeling as if some silent, invisible vortex had sucked the breath from his body. Checking to see how much it’d cost to take the train from Pittsburgh to Napa Valley.

As always, she was planning her escape.

Good. That was what he wanted. Her gone. Out of his life, out of his thoughts. Out of his dreams. He wanted to be free of her, once and for all.

Cursing viciously, he swiped his hand over the mouse, had it flying off the desk to hang by its wire. Damn her.

He went outside. Found Sadie and Max laughing like loons at Elvis, who was showing off, leaping into the air, waiting for Max to throw the ball.

“Ten more minutes, Uncle James,” Max called, spying him walking across the parking lot. “Please?”

“Ten minutes,” James said, stepping up beside Sadie. She stiffened. He ignored it. “Then we have to head to practice.”

“Practice?” she asked.

“Hockey practice. Eddie’s finishing up with the bookshelves in the living room at Bradford House so I told him I’d take Max to practice, get him fed after.”

They watched boy and dog, the silence tense and uncomfortable. It never used to be that way, James thought as he stuck his hand in his pocket to stop himself from touching a strand of her hair that blew in the wind.

This was their new normal.

He hated it.

But he wouldn’t do anything to change it. He’d always been the one to make things right—with his friends and family. To make things comfortable. Easy. Peaceful. It was past time someone else took over that role.

He glanced at Sadie’s profile. A small smile played on her mouth as she watched Max and Elvis; the sun caught the pale strands in her hair. She was beautiful. So beautiful it hurt to look at her. To realize he still wanted her.

That he might always love her.

“When do you leave?”

As soon as the gruff words left his mouth, he cursed himself for even asking. For caring enough to ask.

“What?” she asked, squinting as she looked up at him.

“You were looking at train tickets on the office computer. When do you leave?”

“I was just pricing them,” she muttered. “Seeing if it would be worth it to sell my Jeep....”

“But?”

She sighed, tucked her hair behind her ear. “But Phoebe says I’ll need a vehicle out there and seeing how high the cost of living is in California, I’d be money ahead to keep the car I have. So it looks like I’ll be here a few more weeks at any rate.”

She didn’t sound happy.

“Jesus, you make it sound like a prison sentence.”

“It’s no fun being somewhere you feel trapped.”

Trapped. That was how she felt being in Shady Grove. Being with him.

Son of a bitch.

“I could already be gone,” she continued, crossing her arms, her tone petulant, “out of your hair and your life. You can blame Mom for me still being here.”

“Irene?”

“I asked her for a loan. Promised I’d pay her back, offered to have legal papers drawn up, but she wouldn’t give me so much as one cent.”

“That must’ve been rough.”

Her gaze flew to his, startled and suspicious. “What do you mean?”

“It must’ve been rough,” he repeated. “You swallowing your pride and asking her for money only to be turned down.”

She blushed, lowered her head. “Yeah, it pretty much sucked. But that’s okay. I’ve always made it just fine on my own. I’ll continue to do so. And don’t worry, I’ve already called the employment agency about finding a replacement for me. You won’t be left hanging.”

He snorted. She always left him hanging. Always left him wanting more than she was willing to give. He wanted to blame her for it—and did. To a point. But he was honest enough with himself to admit he shouldered part of the blame for expecting too much from her.

For keeping his feelings to himself all this time.

They fell back into silence. After a few more minutes, James checked his phone. Opened his mouth to call to Max.

“Is this as weird to you as it is to me?” Sadie asked before he could speak.

“This?”

“This.” She waved between them, her brow lowered, her movements agitated. “This. You and me not talking. It’s—”

“Weird,” he put in. “So you’ve said.”

“Not just weird but...wrong.”

“It’s the way I need it to be.”

“Right. The way you need it to be.” Her voice was quiet. Sad. It killed him. “Never mind that I miss you...that I miss us. That I’ll be leaving and I’m—” Snapping her mouth shut, she shook her head.

“You’re what?” he asked hoarsely, telling himself it didn’t matter, that
she
didn’t matter. Knowing he was a liar.

She met his eyes, her chin lifted in a look of complete defiance. Of strength. But when she spoke, her words were low. Unsure.

“I’m scared,” she said, surprising the hell out of him. “Scared our friendship really is over. Terrified of living the rest of my life without you in it.”

He was, too. But there was no other way. “You’ll get through it,” he said, not unkindly. They both would. “Finish up, Max,” he called to his nephew.

Max waved to let him know he’d heard. James hesitated. Everything inside of him screamed at him to leave before he gave in to his need to comfort her, to try to make things right between them. But, as always, walking away from Sadie was impossible.

“No matter what’s happened between us,” he said, pitching his voice so his words didn’t carry to Max, who threw the ball for Elvis again, “I wish only the best for you, and I...I hope you’re happy. Wherever you go.”

Not looking at him, she nodded. Swallowed visibly.

His truck keys in his hand, he turned.

“My mom thinks I’m trying to live my dad’s life,” Sadie blurted before he’d taken more than a step.

“What?”

“She accused me of not accepting his death, of trying to hold on to him by...I don’t know...following in his footsteps, I guess.”

“Are you?”

“No.” She frowned. Shrugged irritably. “I don’t know. Maybe. And if I am,” she asked quietly, “is that so wrong?”

He was too stunned to speak. He’d always thought she moved from town to town, job to job, for the thrill of it. Because she loved nothing more than the next challenge, a new adventure.

For so long, he’d been confident he knew Sadie better than anyone else. That he understood everything about her—what made her tick, why she lived her life on the run. Her thoughts and fears and hopes and dreams. But now he wondered how much of that was true and how much was just his wishful thinking brought on by his feelings for her.

“You’re following in your father’s footsteps,” she continued. “I don’t see anyone holding that against you.”

“I’m not sure the two are the same.”

His father was a community leader, a well-respected businessman. More importantly, he was a good family man, a loving and devoted husband and father. From what little he’d heard, Sadie’s dad had been a charming jack-of-all-trades who’d dragged his family from town to town, state to state, in search of his next big break.

James frowned. But then, he’d always been more than happy to pretend as if her life hadn’t started until she’d moved to Shady Grove, to think that the only father she’d ever had was Will Ellison—because that was the only father James had ever known her to have. Sure, Sadie had told James stories about Victor Nixon, but they’d been the tall tales of a child, offered when she’d first moved here. As they’d grown, Sadie had talked less and less about her dad, sharing only the occasional, casual remark about him.

“What was he like?” James asked. “Your father.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

A lie settled on the tip of his tongue, ready to be said. But this was Sadie. She may have hurt him, may have broken his heart, but she still deserved the truth. “Because I never asked before,” he admitted quietly. “And I should have.”

* * *

S
ADIE
STUDIED
James, his gaze warm—like it used to be when he looked at her—his expression honest and open. What it must be like to be that free with one’s emotions. To be able to share your thoughts and feelings so easily.

The idea of it terrified her.

“I’m sure you’ve asked me about him,” she said.

“Possibly.” Though he didn’t seem to believe that. “Indulge me anyway.”

She couldn’t. She rarely shared her memories of her dad with anyone. Those memories belonged to her, her and her mother. They were special. Private.

They were all she had left.

But more than that, worse than that, they weren’t as clear as they should be. Each year they dimmed, fading like a brightly colored painting left out in the sun.

As if reading her mind, James shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “I need to get Max to practice anyway.”

“I don’t remember much.” Her words kept him there, talking to her. Listening to her. “Not nearly as much as I wished I did. And of the memories I do have, I’m never certain if they’re real, or a figment of my imagination. Was he really as tall as I remember? As handsome? Or am I projecting onto him the person I want him to be?”