“Good.” Her fingers brush mine briefly, intentionally. “Because if you walk away again,” she says softly, “I won’t wait this time.”
The warning lands squarely. I nod once. “I won’t.”
The firehouse doors open in the distance and Sawyer’s voice echoes, “Are we dancing or proposing in there?”
Sadie laughs softly. “Guess we’re believable.”
I watch her walk toward the hallway, confident, steady, sunlight catching in her hair. The slow burn isn’t slow anymore. It’s building.
And this time?
I’m not standing on the sidelines while she builds a life without me.
Chapter 9
Sadie
The Mountain Debutante Ball is a ridiculous tradition.
It’s Devil’s Peak’s excuse to dress grown women in satin sashes and auction off dinner dates for charity while the church ladies pretend it’s wholesome.
I volunteer backstage because that feels safe. Clipboards. Safety pins. Emergency hairspray. Not center stage under a chandelier while half the town evaluates my “bid value.”
“Sadie, darling, hold this,” Mrs. Dottie says, shoving a bouquet of fake peonies into my hands as I help zip up a nervous twenty-two-year-old named Marlene.
“I’m not participating,” I remind her.
“You’re assisting.”
Marlene sways on her heels.
“You okay?” I ask.
She looks green. “I don’t feel?—”
She bolts for the bathroom.
Mrs. Dottie gasps. “Oh heavens.”
“I’ll go check on her,” I offer.
Before I can move, Mrs. Dottie grabs my elbow.
“You’re roughly the same size.”
My stomach drops. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Sadie Marshall,” she hisses, already tugging a sash over my shoulder. “This is for the children.”
“For the children?”
“For the firehouse roof repairs.”
“That feels like manipulation.”
