“There will always be people ready to tear others down. That doesn’t make them right.”
She picks up her phone from the coffee table, screen still dark. “I turned it off after the millionth notification. I can’t... I can’t look at it anymore.”
One thing I know is I’ll be by her side through the whole ordeal. I refuse to watch her pack her life into boxes and run.
“Where are you planning on going?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Portland, maybe. Jess said I could stay with her while I figure things out. Or maybe somewhere new. Somewhere no one knows me. Start over again.”
“Again.” She’s staring at the half-packed suitcase with the same look she must have worn the day she left home.
“I thought it would be different here,” she says quietly. “I thought I’d built something they couldn’t take from me.”
“Sadie—“
“But I was wrong.” She finally looks up at me, eyes glistening from tears she refuses to let fall again. “I should’ve known better. Secrets always come out eventually, and people always find a way to make you feel small for being you.” She huffs out a laugh. “Like Owen. Maybe he was a warning that Sierra Rose isn’t meant to be my home.”
Fuck no. Owen was an asshole who tried to make her small. That has nothing to do with whether she belongs here.
There are tears on her cheeks now, and she wipes at them angrily.
“Except it is your home and you don’t have to leave,” I say.
“You saw those comments. Judith’s already organizing people against me. And when Judith Ashford decides someone doesn’t belong here, they’re gone within a month. We’ve both seen it happen. The yoga studio. The craft brewery. Gone because Judith decided they didn’t fit with the values of Sierra RoseRidge and got her righteous mob of vindictive busybodies to make their lives miserable.
“That’s not going to happen to you.”
“Someone has already suggested a boycott. How am I supposed to run a bookshop in a town where half the people think I’m a disgrace for writing romance?”
“Not half the people. A very loud and obnoxious minority. There were supportive comments too, and far more than the negative—“
“It doesn’t matter.” She cuts me off. “Even if most people have no problem with it, the ones who think I’m disgusting for writing sex will never let me forget it. You know how this works. Small towns. Gossip. Judgment.” She gestures at the boxes. “I’ve done this before. I know how to leave.”
Sadie stands up and moves to her luggage, folding the shirt she tossed in it earlier. She grabs another piece of clothing and does the same, placing it neatly with the rest. I lean forward, elbows on knees, hands gripped together.
“What if you didn’t have to do it alone this time?”
She freezes, turns, and looks at me. “What?”
“You’re not alone in this, Sadie. Whatever happens, whatever you decide, you don’t have to deal with it by yourself. If you want to leave, I’ll help you pack. I’ll drive the moving truck. I’ll make sure you get wherever you’re going safely. But if you want to stay, if there’s any part of you that wants to fight for this life you’ve built, I’m here. I’ll stand with you. I’ll help you handle Judith, the boycott… every fucking person who thinks they have a right to judge you.”
She shakes her head softly, brows furrowing in confusion.
“Why?” Her voice is barely a whisper. “Why would you do that?”
Because I love you. I’ve loved you for five years. The thought of you leaving is tearing me apart. If you go, I don’t think I could move on.
But I can’t say that. Not now. Not when she’s this vulnerable, this raw, this ready to run.
“Because,” I say instead. “Friends show up for each other, no questions asked.”
She stares at me for a long moment. Then she sinks back onto the couch, head in her hands.
“I don’t know what to do,” she admits. “I don’t want to run, but I’m so scared of what happens if I stay.”
We both lean back to where we started minutes ago, her head on my shoulder.
“You don’t have to decide right now. Take the day. Think about it,” I tell her. “But Sadie? Whatever you choose, you’re not doing it alone. I promise.”
