Page 36 of Promise Me

“What the hell, man? She’s moving in with you?” He tosses his hands up, letting them drop and slap his thighs loudly.

“She’s not moving in,” I say and sit in my chair. “She’s just staying another night or two.”

Honestly, after we closed the bakery and went back to my place, she made herself at home on the sofa with a book. By thetime I left around ten, she was asleep on the couch. All this to say that Sadie and I haven’t exactly discussed her plan.

My heart races for a split moment at the idea of her being there when I get home.

It’s been years since I had someone waiting for me at the end of the day.

And now it’s Sadie.

“Well, tell her to go home,” Linc says, dropping into the chair opposite me. “Please.”

This time, I’m the one who holds my hands up.

“I will not do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m keeping the peace, just like you asked.”

“Don’t make it sound like you’re doing this for me.”

“I’m not,” I say and smile. “She’s going to be fine, Linc. Breathe. Give her some space.”

A deep wrinkle forms between his eyebrows as he leans back and glowers at me.

“Why aren’t you pissed about this? It’s my sister. You hate each other.”

Jesus. I can’t win here.

“I don’t know, man. She showed up, and she was … nice.”

He barks out a laugh. “To you?”

“Yes.”

“Impossible.”

“I thought so, too, but then I realized that if she was coming to me, she must really need a break.”

His face morphs from angry to defeated in a flash.

With one hand, he rubs his forehead. “I worry about her.”

“I know.”

He blows out a breath.

“At least it’s you. I trust you.”

“Thanks.”

“Dad isn’t as worried. It’s weird. I know he is, but he keeps saying she’s just as grown a woman as she was three years ago, and she can make up her own mind on how to handle this, and I hear him, I do. I just?—”

“Hey,” I say, drawing his attention to me. “She’s going to be fine.”

I want to tell him that I know because I’ve been there, but again, just because I feel like I can relate to her right now doesn’t mean I relate to everything. I mean, hell, a part of me wishes I didn’t remember my love of hockey.

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