Page 64 of Found by the Pack
I lean back in my chair, stretching my legs out. “I’ve been on back-to-back shifts. No way I’m doing a night of forced small talk on top of that.”
Shepard gives me the raised-brow look, the one that says he’s already decided I’ll end up doing the thing I’m refusing. “Just think about it,” he says, pushing off the doorframe. He heads for the door, Gus trailing after him.
When the door clicks shut, I sit there staring at the wall, thinking about Sadie.
I’ve thought about calling her. Even just sending a text. But every time I picture her face from the other day—how crushed she looked when I told her I’d shared what she’d told me with the others—I stop myself.
She doesn’t need me barging in, not right now. I’ve always been too quick to jump, too quick to go all in. I don’t pace myself, and it blows up in my face.
See? This is why you keep your distance, Boone.
But then I think about her working alone, about that stiff little smile she gives when she’s trying to hide how tired she is, and I get pissed at myself.
Maybe a few drinks at the cliffs isn’t a bad idea after all.
I grab a clean black Henley from the closet, roll the sleeves halfway up. Dark jeans, boots. Nothing fancy, but enough that I don’t look like I just stepped off shift. Jacket over my arm.
I grab my keys and head out before I can overthink it.
The drive to the cliffs is short. I can see the glow from the bonfire before I even park—the orange flames throwing sparks into the air, music drifting across the water, the smell of charred wood and sea salt mixing in the cool night air.
Jake’s voice carries over the hum of conversation as I walk up. “…and please, make sure no fires spread beyond the pits. The cliffs are dry this time of year, and we don’t need to give the department extra work.”
He’s got that easy captain’s authority, half instruction, half friendly reminder.
I grab a beer from one of the coolers near the circle of picnic tables. The glass bottles are slick from the ice. As I pop the cap, I catch sight of Julian leaning against a post, deep in conversation with Elias.
Julian’s been leading half the real estate developments in town lately—revamping the old dockfront, putting in new shops on Main. He waves me over, and for a few minutes I let myself get pulled into talk about zoning permits and how the mayor’s been dragging his feet on certain projects.
And then I see her.
Sadie’s standing with Cora and Grace near the edge of the firelight, her head tipped back just slightly as she laughs at something Cora says. The sound carries, light and warm. She’s wearing a soft cream sweater tucked into dark jeans, her hair pulled back loosely with a few strands framing her face. Even from here, I can tell she’s more relaxed than the last time I saw her.
But then her gaze shifts, scanning the crowd, and lands on me.
The smile falters—just for a heartbeat—before a shyer version replaces it. She lifts her hand in a small wave.
That’s all it takes for me to excuse myself from Julian, mumbling something about catching up later. Elias has already steered the conversation elsewhere anyway.
I weave through the clusters of people until I’m standing in front of her. The firelight flickers across her face, catching the gold in her eyes.
“Didn’t know you’d be here,” I say.
Her lips press together like she’s holding back a dozen answers, but what she says is, “Can we talk?”
There’s a seriousness in her voice that pushes aside whatever easy greeting I might have had lined up.
“Yeah,” I say, shifting the beer to my other hand. “Lead the way.”
She glances toward the far end of the cliffs where the light doesn’t reach and starts walking. I follow, keeping half a step behind. Her shoulders are set, but not in that tense, defensive way I’ve seen before—this is something else.
When we reach the quieter stretch, the noise of the crowd just a low hum behind us, she stops and turns to face me.
She’s the one who asked if we could talk, but when we’re far enough from the noise, it’s like we both forgot how. The fire is just a smear of gold behind us now, the wind cooler here at the edge of the cliffs, the music muted to a pulse you feel more than hear.
She looks at me like she’s deciding if I’m worth the trouble.
I shove my free hand into my pocket. “So… this is awkward.”
