Page 9 of Beautiful Ruins
Every lie I’d told myself about moving on shattered the second she walked out that side door. Even through all that anger, all the hurt, she was still Sadie.
My Sadie.
Jazz twisted her hands in her lap, the tension palpable. Itwasn’t just me Sadie had left all those years ago. It was her, too. Sadie and Logan were inseparable, but Jasmine became a huge part of their lives when she and her family arrived in town thirteen years beforehand.
I remembered the day. Sadie’s face had lit up when she talked about the new girl at school. I knew Sadie loved Logan, but once hormones got involved, having a male best friend could be difficult, I supposed.
Logan didn’t say as much, but I knew when he and Sadie had argued. He’d come home sulking and sit in his room for the rest of the night. The next day, it would be as if nothing had ever happened.
“Did you . . . talk to her? Did she say why she’s back?” Jasmine’s voice wavered.
Maybe she didn’t really want answers, just someone to say it out loud, so it felt real. That Sadie Cooper was back in Barrenridge.
I sighed, pressure mounting in my chest. I wished I had the answers she was looking for. Hell, I wished I had the answerIwas looking for.
I rubbed a hand over the stubble on my jaw. “No, I didn’t speak to her,” I said, unable to look directly at her. “And no, she wasn’t exactly forthcoming about why she’s back, Jazz.” The words tumbled out harsher than I meant them, but I wasn’t going to sugarcoat the truth for her.
If Jazz wanted to know why Sadie was back, she could damn well ask Sadie herself and leave me the hell out of it.
Chapter Three
SADIE
You know those dreams where you’re falling, and just before you hit the ground, you’re jolted awake? Except I didn’t wake up. I hit the ground. Hard.
Because someone was banging on my bedroom window. Or, more like pounding.
The ceiling fan whirled above me as I kicked the tangled sheets from around my ankles. I didn’t bother to get up, just lay there staring into the darkness like it might give me a clue what I was supposed to do next.
A dog barked somewhere down the street, likely because of the ruckus going on outside.
“Sadie!” Rowan’s muffled voice seeped in from outside the window.
For crying out loud. Was he serious?
I took a deep breath as the night pressed in around me. I was going to ignore him, let him get it out of his system, whatever that was. Eventually he would get bored and go back home.
“Sadie!” Another bang against the glass, and I jumped. “I know you’re in there. Just . . . shit?—”
A loud thud followed—something heavy hitting the wall beneath the window. I froze. Another muttered curse. Then the unmistakable scrape of boots on brick, like he was climbing or—shit, had he fallen?
Groaning, I pushed myself up from the floor, flicked the switch on the lamp on the nightstand, and walked over to my window, yanking it open.
As much as I didn’t want to deal with Rowan right then, I also couldn’t let him plummet to his death. Even though it would have been his fault for being so stupid as to climb two storeys.
Those golden eyes met mine once again, this time up close. Too close. My heart stuttered in my chest. Damn traitor, same as when I was sixteen. Seemed I hadn’t learnt a bloody thing when it came to Rowan.
“Can’t you use the front door like a normal person?” I stood back, crossing my arms over my chest as though I was refusing to let him come in. We both knew that was just a facade.
Sighing, I finally stepped back, and he spilled through the frame, mumbling incoherently to himself, the smell of whiskey and cigarettes clinging to his clothes like a second skin soaked in regret.
He shoved himself back onto unsteady feet and glanced around the room as though it held fond memories for him. He was taller than I remembered, or maybe just broader. He was no longer in his black cut, but I was thankful he was still wearing a faded grey T-shirt—I didn’t need the distraction of what was underneath. His jaw was clenched beneath that thick layer of stubble, his hair a mess of waves like he’d run his hands through it too many times to count.
Tattoos covered both arms, but down one forearm, there was one that caught my eye. Logan’s name.
He turned on me then, those eyes—God, those eyes—locking on to mine with a kind of desperation that made it hard to breathe. “Why now?” he choked out, the words a forceful shove against my chest.
Why, what? There were plenty of questions that could have started with ‘why.’
