The sound of it is enough to make the tears flow but this time, they are tears of relief.
“S-Sadie,” I choke out, covering my mouth to try and stop the noise.
Her bright tone instantly evaporates. “Ellie? What’s wrong? What happened?”
I wipe my nose with the back of my sleeve. “It’s me. It’s me and I’m being stupid. I just... I just hung up on Archer, Sadie. I saw her Instagram, and I can’t breathe, and I feel like I’m going to ruin my relationship.”
“I’m on my way,” she says, her voice now calm, the tone she uses when it’s code for, I’m in crisis mode and you need me. “Don’t move. Don’t lookat anything. Just take five deep breaths. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Her voice is commanding, comforting.
She’s coming.
I sink down onto the edge of the couch, hugging myself as if I could keep the pieces from falling apart until she arrives. The anxiety is still a lead weight in my stomach, but a tiny pinprick of light has appeared. Now, I just have to wait for my best friend to arrive and tell me how to apologize to the man I desperately love.
I just stare at the forgotten phone. The tears have slowed to a miserable, quiet drip, but the hyperventilating panic hasn’t subsided. I feel sick, hollowed out by my own self-sabotage.
Then, I hear it: the jangling of keys followed by the familiar, slightly hurried click of the door swinging open. I have never been more thankful I gave her a spare key to feed Fish.
“Ellie?” Sadie takes one look at me slumped on the couch, face blotchy, tear-stained mascara smeared under my eyes, wearing one of Archer’s ridiculously oversized team hoodies and her expression melts from fear to mama bear.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs. She crosses the room in three strides and doesn’t ask a single question. She doesn’t launch into a lecture or a defense of Archer. She just wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a tight embrace. Her massive boobs are a comforting cushion.
I collapse against her, burying my face in the soft cotton of her sweatshirt. The fresh scent of her perfume,something clean and comforting, is a welcome sensory anchor. All the dammed-up misery comes rushing out again in a fresh torrent of desperate sobs.
“I’m so stupid,” I gasp against her shoulder, the words muffled. “I ruined everything.”
Sadie strokes my hair firmly. “You didn’t ruin anything. You’re having a panic attack, and you’re letting some miserable woman get inside your head. Breathe, Ellie. I’ve got you.”
She holds me until the shaking starts to subside, then pulls back just enough to look me in the eye. She uses the back of her hand to gently wipe a streak of black liner off my cheek.
“Okay. Code Red” she announces, her voice calm and business-like. “I need facts. Did you call him back?” I shake my head miserably. “No. I can’t. I can’t talk to him like this; he’s going to think the worst.”
“He’s going to think his girlfriend is upset, which she is. But we won’t deal with that right now,” she says, glancing pointedly at the phone. “We’re going to get you calmed down.”
She turns, handing me the nearest tissue box, and then walks straight to the bathroom. “Don’t move. I’m getting makeup wipes and a glass of water.”
When she returns, she doesn’t just hand them to me; she sits down, right next to me and holds the wipe up. “Let’s clean this mess up. Then you’re going to tell me exactly what Cassie said in that text that made you forget you’re the most incredible personArcher has ever dated.”
I lean into her, letting her gently scrub the dried salt and mascara from my skin. The simple, nurturing sending fresh tears to my eyes.
“She said...” I start, my voice still shaky. “She texted him about the picture he posted of me on Instagram. And she said I was... ‘pretty’.”
Sadie pauses, the makeup wipe hovering over my eyebrow. She blinks slowly, absorbing the absurdity of my breakdown.
“She said... you were pretty?” Sadie repeats flatly, her eyebrows raised. “And this sent you into a three-hour deep dive that ended with you hanging up on a man who tells you daily that he loves you?”
I nod, fresh tears welling up in shame. “It felt like a condescending approval. Like I passed a test she set. Like she’s the end all be all, passing judgment on the peasant girl who took her place. I just... I saw all their old photos, Sadie. All the memories. The engagement photo, the Heisman…” I trail off before a fresh set of tears can start.
Sadie tosses the used wipe onto the end table. She reaches out, gripping both of my hands firmly in hers, forcing me to look at her.
“Elle, listen to me. Archer loves you. He picked you. Cassie, who knows what her motivation was,” she says quickly. “But she doesn’t matter. Yes, Archer went to her father’s funeral but that was for him, not her. He deserved that goodbye, Cassie is in the past, you are his future; should that be the choice you make.”
She pauses, her expression softening into fierce loyalty. “Now, we are going to get you a huge glass of wine, order entirely too much Mexican food, and you are going to let me remind you exactly why Archer is crazy about you.” She squeezes my hands as she heads to the kitchen to work in her best love language—food.
Chapter 47
Archer
The moment Elle says she’s found Cassie’s Instagram; the bottom drops out of my stomach. My pre-game focus shatters like glass. I duck into an empty stairwell, my heart hammering a chaotic rhythm against my ribs.
