Maybe I could.
That’s the difference between me and Sadie. I kept thinking about how if I hadn’t seen the scar or asked her about it, I’d have never known. I’ve been so wrapped up in all my shit that I quickly realized I don’t know a whole lot about her. Her life was supposed to be different, but here she is, smiling like it’s her job and spending her summer with kids. The contrast isn’t hard to decipher. I’m a moody bastard and she’s gracious, full of a glow I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Wow,” a voice says from below. “Didn’t realize you were an artist.”
I freeze. Like an idiot, I wonder if I’ve thought about her too long and she’s simply appeared from the universe.
I look down to see Sadie standing at the end of the driveway, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, carrying a tray of two coffees and a brown paper bag. As always, her smile is absolutely unapologetic.
“You—” I clear my throat. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to confirm you have more talents than advertised,” she says.
I scoff, finishing the number I started, then set the paintbrush down. “It’s a stencil. Not much talent required.”
She laughs, stepping closer, shading her eyes to look up at me. “You look good up there.” Her voice is velvety smooth.
The bag is stamped with the bakery logo, matching the coffees. The lightbulb goes on as I cross my arms across my chest.She’s going to ask me for something.
I climb down, suddenly aware of the ladder, the house, the spot of black paint on my index finger.
She looks around before her eyes land on me. “I was actually coming to find you,” she admits. “Wanted to ask you...”
My stomach tightens on instinct. I knew it.
“Dangerous sentence,” I say.
She shrugs. “You’ll live.”
She takes a breath, suddenly more careful. “We have a basketball tournament. A few local rec centers come together to play against each other. A few weekends in August. And I was wondering if you’d help coach.”
There it is.
I hold back a laugh as my chest goes tight. My mind races ahead of me, already inventorying ways I could mess this up. Commit and not be enough. Say yes and disappoint her. Get too close to the thing that still hurts.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I say slowly.
She nods, like she expected that, but something shifts anyway. Small. Tucked behind her eyes. “You don’t have to answer right now.”
Sadie sets the bag and the tray down, grabbing the coffees, and offering me one. I take it carefully, our fingers brushing for half a second too long before she pulls back.
Too quick.
“I mean—I get it. It's a lot,” she continues, talking faster now. “A few weekends is a commitment, and you’ve got things going on, obviously. And I probably should’ve mentioned it earlier instead of just showing up here, like you don’t have anything to do. Clearly, there are things on your list.” Sadie gestures to the ladder.
She laughs, but it doesn’t quite land. Her weight shifts from one foot to the other. She won’t look at me.
“I thought it could be fun? But it’s totally fine if you don’t want to—” She finally looks up, eyes searching. “—or if you don’t want to spend that much time… here.”
With me, hangs unspoken between us.
My chest tightens. She thinks I don’t want to spend time with her.
“Sadie,” I say gently.
“Seriously. I can ask someone else. I have other options. Don’t feel like you have to–”
I interrupt her again. “Sadie.”
