Page 35 of Sage Haven
I settled into a corner table near the window, where sunlight filtered through the glass in lazy streaks.
My hands wrapped around a mug of black coffee, fingers tight on the ceramic, as if the heat could thaw the cold pit that was heavy in my stomach.
When Sam arrived, I spotted her before she reached me.
There was something different about her this morning.
A glow beneath her skin that gave a quiet radiance that hadn’t been there before. She practically floated toward me, all wide eyes and soft smiles.
“You’re positively glowing,” I said, tilting my head as I watched her slide into the seat across from me.
She grinned, cheeks flushing the prettiest shade of pink. “I guess that’s what a great man can do for you.”
I smirked, because she was being coy on purpose, probably because I was the one who ruined the whole evening.
“Castor seemed kind,” I offered carefully. Then, after a pause, I added with a dry note, “Not that I remember much. Given my embarrassing exit.”
Sam laughed, and it was light and easy, giving me a smile that told me I didn’t need to worry about what happened. Like it was already water under the bridge in her eyes. “Oh, Sage, don’t even worry about that. We all have our moments.” She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze softening. “And Cas… is amazing. He sees me. Really sees me. I’ve never felt so… understood. I’m not at all upset we cut thenight early to have some time together, uninterrupted.” She chuckled, then exhaled, her fingers fiddling with the handle of her cup. “I am just ready to take things to the next level with him.”
There was hope in her voice. Vulnerability.
Before I could respond, she waved it off with a little laugh.
“Enough about my guy,” she said, mischief returning to her tone. “I want to hear about yours.”
I froze for a heartbeat too long. My fingers tensed on the mug.
Why was I so self-conscious?
Why did I suddenly feel like I was caught in a lie I hadn’t even told yet?
The time I’d spent with this man from the crowd clung to me.
Half-remembered.
Half-imagined.
Like a dream I couldn’t quite wake from.
“There’s not much to tell,” I said, keeping my voice casual. “He barely spoke to me. And when I woke up, he was gone. I barely remember much from last night.”
The words sounded hollow.
Like something was missing.
Like I was leaving something out.
And I was.
The whole drink debacle. I certainly remembered my stupidity on that one.
Sam’s expression faltered, just a flicker, but it was there.
She’d expected a different story.
Something exciting and romantic.
Some reckless adventure she could live through me.
