I was showered in sweat, heart still hammering from trying to outrun her. To outrun what she’d said. Outrun the way I’d felt walking out of that shop. As though I’d lost something I never really had in the first place.
My thumbs flew across the screen: “Give me ten minutes.”
Of all the things I should’ve been thinking, the one thought looping in my head as I made my way out was how fast I could make it downtown without looking like I’d dropped everything to be there for her. Especially after how things had ended between us.
The drive was worse, because I hit every red light, which gave me ample time to add several more useless points to complement that one. What was wrong? And if something was wrong, why’d she think to text me about it? What would she be wearing? Should I have changed out of my workout clothes? Maybe I should’ve splurged on that lady-killer cologne Seth was always going on about. Did Sage even like cologne? She struck me as more of a natural, earthy tone kinda woman.
Not that any of it even mattered. Because we were more done than an overcooked turkey at Thanksgiving.
Sage’s location pin took me farther than I’d expected, past the clean glass storefronts and into a stretch of the city that never bothered to dress itself up. The buildings grew older thedeeper I drove, brick faces exposed where paint had given up, windows fitted with mismatched blinds. Even in the light of day, everything pressed flatter, quieter, more watchful.
I eased my truck toward the curb and idled for a beat before killing the engine. The sudden absence of the motor made the outside rush in through the window. Somewhere down the block, sirens threaded through traffic and faded again, not close enough to chase but close enough to remind me where I was.
My hands stayed on the steering wheel while I scanned the street. Graffiti climbed the exposed brick across from me, layered color over older color, tags stacked on tags until the wall looked like it had stories that didn’t need repeating. A narrow stairwell cut into one of the buildings, its metal door dented and painted over more than once. A pair of people drifted past, heads angled toward each other in quiet conversation, then disappeared around a corner without looking up.
“Where the hell are you?” I muttered under my breath, phone at the ready. But I wasn’t going to text her just yet. Not until I knew what I’d been dragged into.
Reflections bounced off parked cars and the windows of the apartments above. I noted the rhythm of movement, the way someone crossed between poles, the way another figure paused near a doorway and stayed there too long to be casual.
I stayed put behind the wheel, deciding I wouldn’t move until this last-minute plan had a little more structure. Namely, an answer to what the fuck I was doing here.
Sage’s only explanation had been the cryptic SOS. Did I search the shadows in alleyways, or check for her silhouette in the windows rising up around me.
The block didn’t give me much reassurance. A trash can sat overturned near the curb, contents scattered by wind orsomeone careless. A couple of windows on the second floor glowed with television light, while others stayed dim, or in some cases, boarded up.
I checked the rearview mirror, then the side mirrors, taking in the street behind me. No one approached my truck directly. A man lingered near the corner store entrance, hands tucked in his sleeves, eyes moving across passing cars. A cyclist rolled through the intersection and disappeared quickly. Nothing felt urgent, but nothing felt relaxed either.
I listened to the city filtering in, and weighed whether to call Sage, or text for clarification. But the idea felt unnecessary. If she’d brought me here, she would show herself.
Just then, a flash of movement flickered in my periphery.
At first it was only a shift in shadow near the sidewalk. Then the shape resolved into a person stepping closer, one arm lifting in a wide wave. The motion repeated, more definite this time, and recognition loosened the knot of tension in my gut.
Sage stood on the sidewalk, honey streaks in her hair catching the late morning light as she waved again to get my attention. Dressed in skinny black jeans, ripped like all the other pairs I’d seen her in, and matched with a black t-shirt that had been cut at the neckline to drape perfectly over her right shoulder. Just enough skin to pique someone’s interest. A cheeky glimpse of her electric pink bra strap to make me hot all over.
The frustration I’d felt all morning eased from my shoulders as I unlocked the door and pushed it open. Seeing her there had somehow shifted the whole tone of the block. The graffiti stayed ugly, the sirens still traveled somewhere beyond the next intersection, the street remained what it was.
But seeing her standing there—waiting for me—turned it all into background noise.
“You look like shit.”
I scoffed, giving her the once-over. “You shouldn’t wear your jeans that tight. Chokes the nice out of you.”
“It was never there to begin with,” she shot back with a sly smile, and gestured toward the alleyway beside the building where I’d stopped. “Down here.”
My feet remained rooted to the sidewalk. “What’s down there?”
“Aiden.” She’d already gone a few steps ahead, and now turned back especially to roll her eyes at me. “You could’ve just carried on wasting my time over the phone, instead of driving all the way out here to do it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me wanting to know—”
“No, but you’re gonna have to find out while we walk,” she said, waving me along as she started into the alley. “I meant it when I told you it was an emergency.”
She wasn’t bleeding. Didn’t seem to be in any kind of distress. In fact, Sage looked good. No rogue ink smudges, hair down in waves and not hurriedly piled on her head like she usually wore it.
“You have the day off?” I’d accepted my fate, and picked up my pace to catch up with her.
It only lasted a split second, but I could’ve sworn I caught a smug smile on her face when I fell in stride next to her. She knew she had me, and there was nothing I could do about it. Definitely not after this.
