Page 84

Sage seemed to consider this, then shook her head with exaggerated empathy. “Technically, you had your chance.” She grinned. “Technically, you were too slow and technically—” She took a deliberate, enormous bite of cookie and chewed with her mouth open, eyes sparkling with mischief. “—mmm these awwrre meeene nowww.”

His mouth did the corner-twitch thing. The almost-smile that lived right at the edge of his composure like a cat on a windowsill — always there, never quite committing to being fully inside or outside.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Cal said, voice low and warm with amusement.

Sage stuck her tongue out at him, the little silver tongue ring catching the firelight with a quick, mischievous flash.

They settled into a comfortable silence, the crackle of the fire and the faint scent of pine and chocolate wrapping around them like a blanket. Sage watched Cal from the corner of her eye, nibbling another small piece of cookie. I wonder what he’s thinking…

He was staring into the fire, relaxed in his own way — he still looked like a coiled predator that someone had dressed in soft flannel and taught to sit still. His big hands wrapped around the mug, the silver threading through his hair catching the golden firelight like sparks of frost. The warmth from the hearth painted his strong features in gentle, flickering amber.

“Sage.”

She heard it immediately — the shift in his voice. The same subtle weight she’d heard in the diner when he said “my friend,” the same quiet authority from this morning when he’d told her they were going to the doctor. A gravity that hadn’t been there even ten seconds ago.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Everything locked up inside her. Instantaneous. The speed of it still surprised her, even after all these years — the way her whole body could snap from warm and relaxed to braced and ready in the space between one heartbeat and the next. Her spine straightened. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the cookie bag. The half-eaten cookie in her other hand was forgotten, suspended mid-bite, her stomach suddenly tight and sour.

Here it is…

The thought cut through her, cold and clear and ancient, as fear and exhaustion flooded in. Here’s where it changes. Here’s where I need to pay up.

A small, fragile part of her tried to whisper that she was wrong, that he would never do that. But the older, jaded part — the one that had fought everyone and everything — sneered back with sarcastic acid: See? Fucking told you. They’re all the same. You’re Sage Thompson. You don’t get fairy tales.

Sage wanted to cry.

Instead she set the cookie down carefully on the side table. She rigidly folded her hands in her lap, knuckles pale. Her face settled into a flat, guarded expression.

“Okay,” she said. Neutral. Braced. Almost challenging.

Cal looked at her. She watched him read the change — watched those pewter eyes track the shutdown, the armor snapping into place. Something flickered across his face. Not frustration. Something quieter. Sadder.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging loose and open between them — empty, unthreatening. The same way he’d held them across the diner booth when a broken girl had offered him her body for a plate of food, and he had simply sat there, hands open, letting her keep her dignity.

“You’re welcome to stay here,” he said, voice low and steady. “For as long as you want. There’s no timeline, no conditions. You don’t owe me anything.” He paused, letting the words settle the way fresh snow settles — gently, completely, covering everything.

What the fuck?

“But I want you to know you have options. If you’d rather stay with Mary Sue… she’d take you in a heartbeat. I think you know that now. If you’re more comfortable with Dr. Hale, that’s an option too — she has a spare room, and she’s⁠—”

Sage was confused. “Cal⁠—”

“Let me finish, honey.” Gentle. Not commanding, just carefully thoughtful.

“If you want to keep moving — if this isn’t where you want to be — I’ll make sure you have what you need.”

Cal’s voice sounded different.

Is he sad?

He continued softly, “Money. A car. Whatever it takes to get wherever you’re going. No strings. No questions.” He looked down at his hands, at the scars there. “I just need you to know that the options exist. All of them. And whichever one you choose…” Cal broke off for a moment and looked into the fire again. Then back at her. “If you did leave… well… I hope you will stay in touch. So I—” He cleared his throat. “—I mean we… Mama and Dr. Rowan… know you’re okay.”

Sage stared at him.

The fire crackled. Outside, Brutus made a deep, investigative huff, followed by the frantic clucking of chickens who had clearly been located and were not pleased about it.

He… he…