Page 62 of Second Best Again
The kettle hissed, steam clouding the warm glow of the kitchen lights. Sage focused on the swirl of milk in her mug, on the spoon clinking against porcelain. Wordlessly, she took a mug from the cupboard, set the tea bag in, and poured the hot water. Then, taking a deep breath without even realizing it, she turned to face him.
With a clarity that made her chest feel strange, she realized she was always on eggshells around Ronin. Always holding her breath, measuring herself, softening her words. It wasn't even Ronin's fault. He expected peace at home, and she had twisted herself in knots trying to give it, as if disturbing his calm was a sin.
The guilt was a familiar weight. Every flare of temper, every snapped word, every outburst during these last few confusing years...she had carried them like scars, convinced it was her failing, her body and mind out of control. But the truthwhispered back now, relentless, because even before David, the cracks had been there...she had just refused to see them.
She set the mug down on the island in front of him, her hand trembling faintly as she pulled back to clutch her mug.
Ronin cradled the mug she'd set in front of him, staring into the steam as though the right words might rise from it. His voice was low when he finally spoke. "Are you with him? With Euan?"
There was pain in the question, pain in the way his eyes lifted to hers.
Sage's breath caught, but she didn't look away. Her grey eyes shone, steady despite the twist in her chest. "Yes. It might seem too soon...but I think I may be in love with him."
Chapter 44
Ronin's brow furrowed, confusion shadowing his face. "I don't understand. You said...you said you wanted to forgive me."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and familiar. She leaned against the counter, the words coming like an avalanche she could no longer hold back.
"I fell in love with you long before we had a life together," she said softly. "You may not remember... I was behind on my rent in my first year. You overheard me talking to a friend, I think, though I didn't know it at the time. And when I went to pay, it had already been taken care of. My landlord described you well." Her throat tightened, the memory sharp and tender all at once. "No one had ever done something like that for me before—definitely not my mum, not anyone." Sage gave him a sad smile.
"I guess I carried a torch from then on. And when you and Mia called it quits, it felt like a sign. Like maybe...maybe it meant I had a chance," Sage mused, but there was no sorrow in her voice now, just self-reflection.
"But the truth is, I shouldn't have had to try so hard just to be enough. I should have asked you about those photos in the box; I should have had the self-respect to face it. But I didn't because I was afraid to lose you. I didn't want to lose the love I thought we had."
Ronin leaned forward to hold her hand, his voice hushed. "I told myself I was over Mia. And I was grateful for you...so grateful when I fell apart. But then that turned into something else. I did fall in love with you, Sage. You weren't wrong. I was happy. And I do love you."
She nodded slowly, but the pain had dulled into just a vague memory. "Just... not enough to put me first. And that's what I deserve, Ronin. I deserve what you gave Mia. What, in a way, you even gave Amanda." Her voice was steady, though her throat burned. "I deserve to come first, not second best. And even if I'd never met Euan, it is still time I learned to put myself first."
Ronin closed his eyes, his shoulders bowing under the weight of what he had carelessly thrown away. The silence between them this time felt final, a door gently closing.
"Forgiveness doesn't mean I can forget what you've done," she said quietly. "I guess there will always be a place in my heart for you—you gave me David, and he's everything to me. But you also gave me pain that I didn't deserve, Ronin. You made me feel less, and I don't want to feel that way anymore."
Ronin's throat worked as he listened, his eyes shadowed but unflinching. At last, he gave a slow nod. "I'll...come early to collect David tomorrow."
Before either could say more, they winced as a crash echoed from upstairs, followed by David's frustrated roar. "Bloody...! This game is rigged!"
Sage and Ronin looked at each other and, despite the heaviness between them, a shared smile broke through. For a moment, it was almost like old times.
Ronin rose, taking the untouched mug to the sink and rinsing it before placing it carefully on the drying rack. Another nod, brief but weighted, and he turned for the door.
Sage watched him go, the silence of the kitchen folding back in around her, leaving only the faint echo of her heartbeat.
A few hours earlier...
Ronin had hurried through his morning meetings, his mind restless, never truly in the room. He should have been there yesterday, helping with the move. He regretted letting the trip drag on, but Lyric had made another mess of the scheduling and someone had to clear it. The new girl was well-meaning, but a total klutz, and his patience was running thin.
He'd been drifting through life for months, existing between the office and his new apartment—a place that felt more like a hotel room than a home. The only bright spots had been the weekends of David's matches, the proud flare in his chest when his son ran the pitch. And Sage.
He'd started to notice Sage again in a way he hadn't in years. The glow of her skin, the quiet confidence in her step, the way her laughter had grown freer. She seemed lighter, a version of herself that Ronin had only seen glimpses of over the years. And it struck him like a blade: he had never truly treasured what he had, and now he was paying for it.
His mother had been relentless—insisting he should've left Sage penniless after the separation. He'd had to shut her down firmly. He might have been many things, but he wasn't going to do that to Sage.
Then Euan's name had come up one afternoon when he was driving David home from school. David had mentioned him casually, as someone Sage had met. Ronin's chest had gone cold when the familiar name Sage had mentioned once before popped up again. The moment he'd dropped David off, he'd called the private investigator he had used to trail Amanda. It was all he could do not to corner Sage and demand answers, even though he knew he had no right to do that.
What he found had unsettled him more than he had expected. Euan Robertson was the exact opposite of Ronin—confident, successful, irritatingly handsome. A man who had stepped up to raise his orphaned niece, and whose life was otherwise remarkably clean. Video games, a long-ago relationship, a string of casual flings. Nothing sinister, nothing to give him an edge.
He hadn't asked Sage about it. And when the months stretched in silence, a fragile truce hanging between them, he had let himself hope that maybe there was space still to reconcile.
