CHAPTER 30

THE brAVEST THING

SAGE

“Will you judge me if I pop the button on my shorts?”

Maggie arched a dark eyebrow at her from where she was wiping out glasses with a towel. “You’ll get no judgment from me.”

Sage reached down below the bar and slipped open the button of her jean shorts. “Fuck,” she sighed, feeling her stomach relax into the extra few inches of breathing room. “That feels good.”

“You’re drunk.”

Sage waved a hand in the general direction of her friend. “I know this.”

Maggie looked at her like she was a vaguely disappointing sandwich. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

“Why?” Sage frowned down at her almost empty margarita. She threw the rest of it back and slid the glass down the bar, watching the way the condensation smeared across the shiny wood.

Maggie looked at the glass, obviously unimpressed. “Because talkin’ is better. Thoughts get all twisted and fuzzy, and sometimes you don’t actually know what you feel until you say it out loud.” She filled a glass of water from the tap and slid it down the bar toward Sage. “And you’re my friend and I’m supposed to help when shit like this happens. It’s how the friend thing works.”

Sage took a long drink of water. She was drunk enough that she felt the tequila in her mouth, in the way that her lips and tongue lagged just a little behind her brain when she tried to speak.

“David did a shitty thing.”

“What’d he do?”

“I told him not to do something and he did it.”

Maggie blinked at her. “Sage. Come on. You’re givin’ me nothin’ to work with here.”

Sighing, Sage slumped back into her seat.

It had been six days since she’d told David to get out of her apartment.

The first three days she’d been pissed. So pissed that she’d snapped at the perfectly nice cashier at the grocery store when he didn’t give her the two-for-one discount on her wine. She’d needed the space to breathe and recalibrate, to move through the hurt and disappointment until what was left was herself.

The next two days she’d genuinely been so busy with school that she’d barely had time to feed herself or go to the bathroom.

But now? Now she really fucking missed him. She’d had a taste of life without David Hughes in it and she didn’t want that. Not when she could make the choice to be with him again.

“He offered to call a friend and hook me up with a coaching job here in Charleston, and I told him no. Then he went behind my back and did it without telling me. I didn’t realize it was David’s friend until I was at the interview. It was my dream job, Maggie. It was everything I’d ever wanted, and they even offered me the position at the end.” She winced, remembering the sharp sting of humiliation she’d felt in that moment, like everyone was in on the joke except for her. “I thought they picked me because they wanted Sage Fogerty, but they only picked me because of stupid David Hughes and his stupid beautiful face that everyone seems to love.”

Maggie tapped her nails against the polished wood of the bar. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Maggie seemed to be wrestling with what to say next. “So he made a mistake.”

“Yes!” Sage slapped a hand down on the bar, wincing when the surface of her skin smarted. “I told him not to and he did!”

Maggie nodded. “But you got an interview for your dream job.”

“Yes.”

Maggie gave her a look that Sage didn’t like. Not at all.

Sage narrowed her eyes at her. “What.”

“So we’re mad at David,” she started. “I get that. But don’t you maybe want to consider sayin’ yes?”

Hurt flared in Sage’s chest. “You don’t get it,” she said, leaning forward until her chest rested on the bar in front of her. “I can’t just forget that the only reason I got the job was because of him.”

“Hey,” Maggie said, bracing herself on her elbows and looking Sage intently in the eye. “I’m on your side here. All I’m sayin’ is to think about it.”

Sage let herself imagine, just for a moment, that she was the kind of person who would consider saying yes to the job. That she could rewrite the pieces of herself that reacted to help like an unwanted touch. Because it was a good job. An incredible chance to start a career in coaching.

But she was who she was, and in spite of all of the ways that she’d grown and changed, Sage Fogerty couldn’t forget where she came from. She’d never completely outrun the fact that she was Cheryl Fogerty’s daughter, or the girl that Evan White chose out of a random lineup of her peers.

Those pieces of her didn’t define her, but they were there to stay.

“Even the really good ones make mistakes sometimes,” Maggie mused, tucking a piece of her now-blue hair behind her ear. The color suited her. “So is it over?”

“Over?”

“Are you breaking up with him?”

“Fuck no!” Sage realized how loud she was and felt her cheeks flush. “No. I don’t want it to be over.”

“So then what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” Sage admitted. “I’m afraid, I think.”

“Of what?”

Sage let out a pained laugh. “Of everything! Of choosing him and him not choosing me back. Of forgiving him.”

“Why?”

“What if I’m wrong and he hurts me again?”

“You know,” Maggie said, walking back over to brace her forearms on the bar in front of Sage. “People don’t talk about how hard it is to offer forgiveness. Not just sayin’ the words, but actually believin’ in it. I think it’s one of the bravest things a person can do.”

Sage hummed. “He’s so tall.”

Maggie cackled. “That he is.”

“And he wants to go down on me.” Sage plucked a piece of ice from her water, squeezing it between her fingers until it popped out one side and skittered across the surface of the bar. She frowned at it.

“I was so not expectin’ that,” she heard Maggie mutter. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Sage shrugged, thinking back to the one time she’d let Evan put his face between her thighs. “Dunno. Tried it once and the guy gave me shit for taking too long. Never done it since.”

She looked up and caught Maggie’s horrified expression. “What the fuck is wrong with men,” Maggie said, shaking her head. “So are you thinkin’ about lettin’ David, you know, celebrate lady-taco Tuesday?”

Sage cracked up, snorting loudly before getting control over herself. A little glimmer of vulnerability snuck through the tequila haze. “I don’t let anybody see me like that,” she said quietly.

Maggie, to her credit, leaned in closer. “Like what?”

Sage fumbled for the right word. “Vulnerable.”

Maggie gave her a sympathetic look. “Guess you’re just gonna have to decide if David is just ‘anybody’ or if he’s somethin’ else.”

Sage didn’t know what to say to that, so she refocused her energy on trying to talk Maggie into making her another margarita. Unfortunately she failed, in spite of her whining and complaining about the terrible service. She even threatened to leave a one star online review.

“You’ll thank me tomorrow,” Maggie had said as she ushered Sage out the door and into the passenger seat of her small SUV.

“Why am I in your car?” Sage asked much too late. They were already driving.

“I’m takin’ you home.”

Sage scoffed. “I can walk just fine.”

“You’re irrationally stubborn and very silly,” Maggie commented as she turned into the apartment complex. “Think you can make it from here?” she asked, coming to a stop next to the curb.

“Chya.” Sage paused to lean on the door. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

Maggie’s eyes softened. “Right back atcha.”

Sage shut the door and started walking toward the gate, pleasantly surprised that her feet and legs were cooperating.

“Sage!”

She turned back to see that Maggie had rolled down the passenger window. “Miss me already?”

Maggie laughed and shook her head. “Don’t even think about goin’ to see him tonight!”

How did she know…

“But I miss him! And he’s tall!”

“And you’re gonna make a fool of yourself.” Maggie started to pull forward. “Go get your ass in bed, and then you can go see him in the mornin’. Don’t you want to brush your teeth before all the make-up sex the two of you will be havin’?”

“You’re a terrible wing-woman!” Sage shouted after the car.

Sage resumed her walk to the gate. It only took her three tries to get the code right.

Luckily for Sage, she wasn’t great at doing what people told her to do.

She’d make a quick stop at her apartment to brush her teeth and then she’d go see him.

It was the perfect plan.

She pushed her front door open with her shoulder and fumbled with her phone, narrowly avoiding accidentally calling Danny with the Flip-Flops, a guy she’d hooked up with in California a few summers back. Once she’d pulled up David’s contact, her thumbs tapped out a message that had become familiar. One she’d sent every night, even when she wasn’t quite ready to forgive him.

Home and safe.

* * *

It was too bright when Sage blinked her eyes open.

Immediately she squeezed them shut again, not ready to face the sun and the headache and the roiling in her stomach and stupid fucking hangovers can go fuck themselves.

After a minute of trying to will herself back to sleep, Sage relented, flinging back her covers and dragging herself out of bed. Her first stop was the kitchen, where she threw back two glasses of water and then shuffled to the bathroom to brush her teeth, feeling herself relax a miniscule amount when no longer confronted with brutal, fuzzy cottonmouth. She groaned audibly as she dragged on clothes and stuffed her feet into her running shoes.

The walk to the gym only added to her misery, which was compounded by the realization that she hadn’t made it to David’s apartment the night before. And if she hadn’t made it over there, that meant that things were still unresolved between them. He probably thought she wasn’t going to forgive him.

But she couldn’t go over there like this. Workout first, then food. Then go get David Hughes back.

She suffered through her workout, only making it through a half an hour of moving before the demand for something in her stomach had her limping back to her apartment.

Ten minutes later she sat on the floor with a plate piled high with bacon, and nothing else. It was exactly what she needed.

By the time she’d finished the plate, exhaustion was weighing down her eyelids. Maybe just a quick nap and then she’d go over there . Mind made up, Sage fiddled with her phone alarm and then crawled over to the couch. With her face buried in the pillows and her legs draped off the edge of the cushions, she fell fast asleep.

* * *

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

Sage ran down the stairs from her apartment, her hair flapping around her shoulders.

Some quick nap, she thought as she tried to button her jean shorts while sprinting down the sidewalk. Now it was dark, and she’d wasted an entire Saturday sleeping.

Objectively, there wasn’t a rush. There was no reason for her to be running like a raging bull was hot on her heels.

But now that her mind was made up, she didn’t want to wait a second longer.

She was barefoot, and felt a wave of gratitude for smooth cement sidewalks. She also hadn’t showered after her workout, which wasn’t at all ideal. But at least she’d managed to grab shorts from the hamper of clean laundry that sat in her dining room to go with her t-shirt.

She was too old to pull off running through an apartment complex without pants on.

As soon as she got to David’s apartment, her fists banged on the door. Over and over and over and —

“Sage?”

David stood in his doorway, dark eyes blinking at her like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He was shirtless, leaving his broad, hairy chest on display. Her gaze fixed on the dip between his pecs, where she knew her cheek fit perfectly when he held her.

“Hi.” She held her hand up in a wave and then immediately regretted it, lowering it and instead shoving it into the way-too-small pocket of her shorts.

His wide mouth pulled up into a hesitant smile that was so hopeful it made her chest ache. “Hey.”

“I’m so tired of missing you.”

A breath left David’s mouth in an audible whoosh . “Come here, Lefty.”

She closed the distance between them, burying her face into his solid, warm body and wrapping her arms around his middle. She inhaled deeply, unashamed to be drinking in the scent of him. Taking in his comfort.

She felt his arms encircle her, holding her tightly against him. She felt the low, contented hum vibrate in his chest and the press of his face into her hair.

This. This was exactly where she wanted to be.

“I’m so sorry, Sage. I need you to know how sorry I am.” His voice was gentle against her scalp.

“I know,” she replied, and she did know. She knew because she knew David and trusted him more than was logical. And she knew that they needed to talk, to clear the air between them so that they could move forward together. But first, she let herself simply enjoy him. Sage nuzzled her face into his chest, wrinkling her nose and grinning at the tickle of his chest hair.

“I was about to hop in the shower,” David said, like he was offering an explanation for his lack of a shirt.

Not like he needed one.

She tilted her head up, eyes grazing the underside of his strong jaw before meeting the maple brown of his gaze. “Great,” she said, her smile spreading across her face. “I need a shower too.” Extracting herself from his arms, Sage walked around him and into the apartment, heading straight for David’s bedroom.

“Fuck,” she heard him mutter behind her, but she was distracted by the unmistakable tinkle of Daisy’s collar as the golden dog ran out of David’s office. Her long ears flapped with every bounding step, and Sage dropped to her knees.

“Hey pretty girl,” she sang, burying her face into the soft hair on Daisy’s back. “I missed you so much.”

Daisy licked her face in response, and Sage told herself it was because the dog missed her too, and not because she tasted of salt and sweat. She felt the weight of a hand on her upper back and she looked up, finding David staring down at her with unmistakable intention.

“Should I get the guest shower set up for you?” His voice was low and rough, textured in a way that she swore she could feel against her skin.

“Nah,” she said, climbing to her feet. “Yours should be fine.”

His nostrils flared as his eyes darkened. “Well come on then, Lefty.”

Sage followed him through his neatly tidied bedroom and into the bathroom, which, in all the time they’d spent together, she’d never been in. “Holy shit,” she said, taking in the white, stone counter, raised sink bowl, and, most impressively, the walk-in shower tucked into one corner. “Do you pay extra for this?”

David let out a low laugh. “Oh yeah.”

Sage started undressing, tugging off her shirt and wrestling her way out of the still-damp sports bra that seemed determined to stick to her body.

She noticed David staring at her bare skin, and she threw her discarded t-shirt at him, catching him right in the face.

“You’re a mess,” he grumbled, shaking her shirt from his face and looping his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats.

Luckily she didn’t need her eyes to remove the rest of her clothing, freeing her up to take in her fill of David’s naked body. His thighs flexed as he stepped out of his pants, and she stared unabashedly at the thick length of him, already bobbing, half-hard between his legs.

He moved to the shower, reaching in and fiddling with the knobs until the hiss of good water pressure hitting the tile filled the room.

“I got some stuff for you,” he said, kneeling down to open the cabinet under the sink. “There are a few shampoos for you to choose from. I tried to get organic ones, but I didn’t really know what I was looking for. I noticed that you smell like flowers, so I got a jasmine one — I hope that’s alright. And I’ve got clean towels, and a scrubby thing if you like that, and —”

“David.”

He pulled back and looked up at her. “Hm?”

“Get in the fucking shower.”

His expression softened, his smile curving into the same one he gave her when she did something especially ridiculous, or when she woke up in the morning to find him already awake and watching her. It was one of those expressions that reminded her that what she had with David Hughes was uniquely good.

She loved it when he looked at her like that.

He pushed up to his feet, and her mouth watered as she watched the flex of his quads as he straightened. Steam already filtered out from the gap above the shower door. David reached out and pulled the door open.

Sage climbed in, stepping under the wide spray. The water was hot enough that it smarted perfectly against her skin. She felt David’s body behind her, the barely-there brush of him as he circled around her.

They stood there with the water falling between them, their naked skin speckled with droplets. David’s dark hair was plastered down on his forehead, and a few pieces curved around his ears.

“Can I wash your hair?”

Sage looked up at him, more than a little bit perplexed by the offering. “You don’t have to,” she said, hoping to reassure him.

His mouth twitched up into a smile. “I want to.”

Shrugging, Sage nodded. She couldn’t imagine the appeal of doing something so mundane for someone else.

And then his strong hands pulled her directly under the stream of hot water, and a steady finger on her chin tilted her head back. His fingers threaded through her long hair, and ohhhh shit . That felt really fucking good.

Her eyes must have fallen shut at some point, because she heard the click of a bottle cap and then the sweet smell of jasmine filled the shower. David’s fingers were just rough enough against her scalp, scratching and applying the perfect amount of pressure.

“I’m never washing my own hair again,” she said with a sigh.

David’s chuckle was low. “I think I can work with that,” he murmured. He rinsed her hair with the same attentiveness before applying conditioner.

He pulled her away from the direct flow of the water, and when his hands brushed over her shoulders, they were slicked with soap. “Sage,” he began, his voice graveled. “When I texted Michael, I never thought —” He cut himself off, and she opened her eyes to see him shaking his head. He ran his soapy hands over her stomach, caressing her skin like it was his job to cherish her. “I was thinking about the help that I got along the way. How my college coach made a call to get me my first coaching gig in Atlanta. And I just thought I could do that for you — help get you in the door. Because you’re going to be incredible, Sage. You’re going to be an amazing coach, and I never would have sent that text if I didn’t believe that.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” Sage said softly, “and I hear where you were coming from with the job, but I’m not going to take it. I know that I’m being stubborn about it, but I said no, David. I said no and you did it anyway.”

David’s eyes closed and he shook his head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, the words heavy with emotion. After a moment he seemed to collect himself and he knelt down in front of her, hands kneading into her thighs. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Her hands found their way into his wet hair. “Look at me,” she asked, tugging gently on the dark locks. When his face tilted up, a smile spread across her face unbidden, an involuntary reaction to seeing David Hughes on his knees before her. “You screwed up. Just like I screwed up months ago when I disappeared on you. We’re still getting to know each other; of course shit like this is going to happen. And I forgive you. I forgive you because there have been a million little moments that have shown me the man that you are. And not being with you?” Sage shook her head, smiling so fondly at this incredible man. This kind, caring man who made a mistake. “Not being with you fucking sucks, David.”

His laugh was ragged. He stood up, and Sage glanced down at the bottle of body wash he held in one large hand.

Her mouth dropped open, her gaze darting between the green bottle and David’s confused expression.

“No way.”

“What?”

“No fucking way do you use Irish Spring.”

David held up the bottle. “Yes? Is there something wrong with it?” His mouth pulled down into a frown as he turned the bottle around to look at the back. “I mean, I guess it’s not organic, but I’ve never —”

Loud laughter burst from Sage’s chest, so consuming that she threw her head back even as she wrapped her arms around his naked torso.

“Why is my soap so goddamn funny?”

“I just,” Sage gasped, struggling to draw in air. Was she actually crying? Yep. She was laughing so hard that she was crying like a madwoman. “I had this whole thing about only hooking up with men because they used grown-up soap,” she said, and then another wave of laughter overtook her. Once she regained her composure, she pointed at the bottle. “Unlike the college boys, who all used Irish Spring.”

David looked incredulous. “What? Everyone uses Irish Spring.”

Sage grinned at him. “They really don’t.”

“My dad uses Irish Spring,” David protested, but she could see amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I’m calling the guys as soon as we’re out of the shower.”

“You’re going to have to wait,” Sage said, pressing her wet body against his.

He looked down at her. “Oh yeah?”

She drew courage from his blatant attraction. The way his feelings for her were right there, tossed out into the open for anyone to see. No hiding. No hesitation.

“I want you to go down on me.”