Page 27

“You can safe-drop a kid at any hospital, fire department, police station, already,” she toys with a fry in her hand, tearing it into tiny pieces. “But they aren’t anonymous—not without a box—so…”

So what would have happened to a kid like her? Would her person have gone to a safe location? Would they have kept her? What would that kind of life have looked like?

Would I have ever met her?

I can’t even imagine the disconnect she must feel.

Iceland uses a patronymic naming system.

It means my last name differs from Amma’s.

From my parents’. From Kat. I’m Ragnar ólaffson because I’m the son of Olaff.

Kat is Katrín Olaffsdóttir. Amma’s full name is Gúerun Maria Jónsdóttir.

Or names might not match, but they connect us.

Always. Even after the accident that took their lives when Kat was so little, she still has that piece of Dad. And we both look like mom.

I ask, gently, if she’s ever thought about genetic testing. I know little about them, but there was that documentary about all those half-siblings learning they were conceived using the same donor. It was an enormous scandal in some small town, and it was a 23andme that started it all.

“I’ve thought about it,” she admits, eyes flicking down. “But honestly? It scares me. Not knowing sucks, sure, but rejection? That’s worse. I don’t know if it would be worse to have nothing to report, or if it would hurt more to know I have this big, beautiful family that I could’ve known.”

I frown. Who in their right mind would ever reject her?

“I’m s-sure they think of y-y-you every d-day.”

“It’s fairly common, especially among siblings.” Sadie tells me, “There’s a lot of shame, stigma around adoption. Even if I’m constantly in their thoughts, it doesn’t mean they want to be reminded about letting me go.”

I nod slowly, thinking about the parallel. I know that feeling. Wanting to reach out, wanting connection, but fearing you’ll find you were never wanted to begin with.

“I c-can take y-you home,” I say before I can think better of it. “To Iceland. Kat won’t s-stop talking a-a-about you. Amma would l-love you.”

Sadie’s eyes go round. “You’d really take me?” When I nod, so does she. “Yes.”

“M-maybe d-d-during the all-star b-break,” I offer. “I know they aren’t y-yours, b-but they’d l-l-love to meet you in person, n-not just v-video.”

“Ragnar.” She laughs, a real, bright sound that rolls through me like sunlight. “You’ll probably be playing during the all-star break.”

My heart stutters. Only the best players get invited to the weeklong, all-star tournament.

I’ve never not gone before, but this time…

this time feels different. I’m afraid to assume anything about my recovery, my game play.

I wonder when that’ll change. After the first game?

The first ten? Three seasons from now? I already think it counts as a win that I’m not assuming success overnight, but I am hoping for it at some point.

“You might not believe it yet, but I do. And not just because I helped rehab you.” She grins. “You’re one of the best, Rags.”

I swallow, the words trying to reach down my throat and choke me. She thinks I’m the best. Me.

Sadie clears her throat, changing the subject. “Anyway, you’ve helped me so much with the goddamn math. It’s time I repay the favor.”

I protest instinctively. She’s actually not bad at it, just misses small steps and barely needs my help, but she waves me off.

“I know you’re working on being more social, and you’ve already made so much progress. The Howl post, for example? Adorable. But it’s time to up the ante.”

I raise a brow. “Oh?”

“Not that you couldn’t get a date if you wanted to, you totally could, but I mean for Bill’s birthday gala.

Maybe. Or not. You don’t have to, but I know a lot of the guys are binging dates and my mom is trying to convince me to bring…

someone. And I remember you said that you don’t have issues with… women, but…”

“B-but a casual fuck isn’t the s-same as d-d-dating?”

Warmth curls low in my belly as her cheeks tinge red. She’s adorable. I also don’t think I’ve ever heard her babble. Sadie always knows exactly what to say.She groans, dragging her hands down her face.

“I should just stop talking.”

My chuckle cuts off her spiraling. Her mouth snaps shut, and she shoots me an embarrassed look.

I imagine her at the gala, wearing something hot pink, laughing and lighting up the room.

My chest aches with the realization that she won’t be there with me.

I don’t care how many people will be packed like sardines into the ballroom.

I don’t care how many hands I’ll have to shake, and questions I’ll have to answer.

I’d go to a Gala a day if I could have her on my arm.

But we made a deal, and asking her to go as mine would cross a line.

“P-please continue.”

She leans back, her hands finally down from her face. Her shoulders shift as she takes a deep breath. “I like to plan conversations in advance. I know it’s weird, but I thought maybe we could practice some for then? Or any other date you go on?”

Bill’s birthday is soon, but preseason starts this week.

Anything we practice now is going to go in one ear and out the other, but I don’t dare point that out.

Sadie is glowing at me from across the scratched table.

Confident, happy, the babbling gone. She could ask to wax my groin and I’d probably say yes.

Scratch that.

I’d definitely say yes.Plus, if I agree, that’s more time I spend in her presence. More banter. Just more.

I tilt my head, genuinely curious.

“W-what did you p-p-plan for today?”

“Family talk,” she laughs. “You’re pretty open about them and clearly aren’t uncomfortable talking about your sister. But you can always tell me no. I also brought a crossword or we can discuss Howl, or the weather or the global economy.”

“D-do you want to discuss the g-g-global economy?”

“God no.”

My lips twitch upward.

The lunch is surprisingly smooth, the banter easy.

Natural. I find myself stuttering less, not because I’m magically cured, but because I’m relaxed.

Every time I talk to Sadie, the words seem to come easier.

Maybe because she doesn’t seem to tap her foot while waiting for me to finish a sentence.

We talk about family, sort of. I tell her about the house in Akranes, making note of the way her eyes light up at the mention of the Guolaug natural springs.

Not nearly as well-known or as popular as the blue lagoon, their location in the breakwater of Langisandur means you can soak in the warm water while looking out over the ocean.

It’s also mostly visited by Islandigar , as opposed to the lagoon that mostly sees tourists.

If you go there, don’t get your hair wet.

When the check comes, I reach for it immediately.

“Ragnar!” Sadie protests, trying to grab it.

“It’s a f-faux d-d-date, right?” I tease. “I’ll c-can c-c-cover it.”

She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine, but only because I know how much the Arctic pays you.”

She winks. I grin.

We’re gathering up our things to leave, Sadie zipping her tiny backpack—how does it even hold anything?—when I gather my courage.

“Sadie?”

“Yes?” She doesn’t even look up at me,

I take a slow breath. “On the c-call… w-w-with Kat… you said your p-pink g-g-glasses are your favorite part of yourself.”

Her cheeks flush. “Oh. Yeah. I mean, I guess.” Her laugh is hollow. Forced. I wait until she’s done fidgeting, then meet her eyes. Serious as a hip abductor injury.

“You’re a-allowed to p-pick anything to be your f-favorite, but… if you e-ever want… I c-can give you a l-list.”

She blinks, wide-eyed.

“It d-doesn’t ha-ave to be right n-now,” I add softly, “but anytime, j-just ask. I can g-give you o-options.”

The door chimes faintly as Sadie and I step out of the restaurant into the crisp air.

She laughs softly under her breath, eyes bright as she hugs her arms tightly around her.

I wonder if she’s cold, or if I overstepped and she’s trying to hold herself together.

I want to offer to do it for her. Instead, I watch her emotions dart across her face, and smile when she isn’t looking.

This wasn’t a date. I know that. She knows that. But it feels like something. Warm. Light. Easy.

We walk side by side toward her car, and I slow my steps deliberately so she can set the pace. She’s talking about the team’s upcoming travel schedule, how she’s worried Vic’s going to wear himself out before the playoffs, but I’m only half listening, too caught up in the sound of her voice.

I glance down at her hand brushing near mine, close but not quite touching.

My chest tightens.

I shouldn’t.

“Ragnar?” Sadie nudges my arm gently, pulling me back.

“S-sorry,” I murmur, blinking down at her. “What did you s-say?”

She blinks, eyes wide. “When you said a list, did you mean a list of things you like about me?”

My ears burn, but I don’t look away. Nothing could make me look away from her right now. “Y-yeah.”

Sadie’s mouth opens, then closes. She looks away quickly, hands finding and tugging on the end of her long braid.

Did I go too far?

But then she laughs softly, shaking her head. “You’re dangerous, ólaffson.”

My heart stumbles. Dangerous? To her? Never.

We stop at the corner, and she turns to face me fully, teeth worrying her bottom lip.

“I should go,” she says, voice soft. “But…” I lift my gaze to meet hers. “I’m glad we did this,” she murmurs. “You’re doing great, Ragnar.”

I swallow thickly. “Th-thanks to you.”

Sadie’s eyes sparkle as she smiles. “Team effort, remember?”

She steps back, lifting a hand in a little wave, but something flickers in her eyes. Hesitation.

“C-could I…w-walk you to your car?” I ask quietly.

Her smile warms, and she nods.

We move together down the block again, the silence between us thick but not uncomfortable. When we reach her car, she pauses, turning slightly toward me.

“I—” she begins, but then shakes her head. “Never mind.”

“Sadie…”

She looks up at me, eyes wide and shining.

I take a slow breath, feeling the words stick in my throat, but pushing them out anyway. “Thank y-you. For t-today. For…for all of this.”

Her lips curve upward softly. “Anytime, Rags.”

I lift a hand, almost touching her shoulder, but hesitate at the last second. She notices, stepping closer just slightly.

And for a heartbeat—just one—we hover there, on the edge of something new and inevitable.

I can feel the warmth of her body, the electric crackle of the air between us, smell the soft scent of her shampoo.

I’ve spent years training myself not to want things I can’t have.

But Sadie? She’s slipping past every defense I have, weaving herself into my thoughts, my routine, my heartbeat.

I can’t risk messing this up. She deserves someone who knows what they’re doing.

Someone smooth, confident, easy. Not a man who fumbles his words and second-guesses every step.

Not a man who promised he wouldn’t ask for what she isn’t offering.

I pull back, stuffing my hands back into my pockets so they don’t go rogue and twine my fingers with hers.

I’d been planning on skipping out on Bill’s party. Crowds, people, money. I can write a big check from the comfort of my couch, thank you. I had no intention of setting foot in the ballroom unless it was inked into my contract… now? Now I’m looking forward to it. Just so I can see Sadie shine.