"Claims?" Reeves picks up on my careful wording. "You have doubts?"
"I don't know," I admit.
"Sadie hasn't told me the full story. But the way he talked about Poppy… he told Sadie to 'get rid of it' when she was pregnant. Now suddenly he wants to be Father of the Year? Something doesn't add up."
"People change their minds about kids all the time," Reeves says, but I can hear the skepticism in his voice.
"Not like this," I insist. "There's something else going on. I just don't know what yet."
"That's what I'm here for," Reeves says. "To find out what you don't know."
"How quickly can you get started?"
"I can be in Virginia Dale by noon tomorrow. But this kind of rush job isn't cheap."
"I told you, money isn't an issue." I reach into my wallet, checking what cash I have on hand. "I can get you five thousand as a retainer tomorrow. More as needed."
He whistles low. "That'll work. Text me the address where we can meet. Somewhere private."
"The brewery," I decide. "I have an office there. We won't be disturbed."
"Perfect. And Axel?" His voice turns serious. "Don't do anything stupid in the meantime. Men get emotional when kids and women are involved. Makes them sloppy."
"I'm not emotional," I lie. "I'm determined."
"Same difference when it comes to bad decisions." He sighs. "Just let me do my job before you go charging in like a knight in shining armor, alright?"
"Fine," I agree, my fist still tight around the phone at the memory of Elliot's smug face. "Just find me what I need."
"I always do." He hangs up without saying goodbye.
I start the truck's engine, giving one last look at Sadie's window. The light is still on, but the curtain has moved slightly. Is she watching me? Wondering why I'm still here? Or is she just checking to make sure Elliot hasn't returned?
Knowing she’s up there, furious, scared, tearing herself apart because of me, makes my throat lock up. I want to storm up those stairs, pin her to the wall, and force her to see the truth. No one on earth, not her bastard ex, not even her own fear, is going to take her from me.
I made a terrible mistake keeping that photo from her. I see that now with painful clarity. But I won't make another one. I won't let Elliot destroy her life, steal her daughter, or force her back into whatever hell she escaped from in Oregon.
"I'm sorry, Sadie," I whisper to the empty truck. "But I'm not giving up on you. Not now. Not fucking ever."
Chapter 23
Sadie
Iunlock Pike's Perk at 4:34 a.m., a full thirteen minutes earlier than normal. Sleep didn't happen last night, not after Elliot, not after the photo, not after Axel's betrayal. Every creak in my apartment made me bolt upright, checking Poppy's crib, rechecking the locks, peering through blinds at shadows that might be Elliot returning.
My fingers fumble with the keys. One, two, three locks. The ritual that usually steadies me now feels inadequate. What good are locks when Elliot already knows where we are? When he's been watching us, photographing us through these very windows?
I flip on the lights, my eyes scanning every corner of the café. Nothing's changed since yesterday, but everything feels different. Tainted. The safe haven I've built suddenly feels exposed, like a stage set where I've been performing normalcy while being watched.
The police came last night after Elliot left. Took statements, copies of the restraining order Rowan had on hand, the photograph. They promised extra patrols but made no guarantees.
"Civil matter" and "custody dispute" were phrases they kept using, as if this were just some disagreement over Christmas visitation instead of my entire life at stake.
I move through my opening routine on autopilot. Coffee grinders cleaned. Espresso machine warming up. Display case wiped down. Pastry trays arranged. My body knows the choreography even as my mind races, replaying last night's confrontation on endless loop.
The look on Axel's face when he finally pulled that envelope from his pocket. Guilt, yes, but something else too, a certainty that he'd done the right thing by hiding it from me. By deciding what I could and couldn't handle. Just like Elliot used to do.
The memory ambushes me, sharp and sudden—Axel’s hands pinning my wrists to cool sheets, his breath hot against my throat, the rough sound of his voice in my ear. My skin prickles, nipples tightening under my shirt, thighs pressing together as if he’s still between them. Fury simmers, but my body betrays me, aching for that heavy, unyielding weight. I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t need anything from him. I tell myself I don’t, but the ache lingers, stubborn and shameful.
