Page 42

“You threw a tantrum,” he says. “And now you’re what—shacked up with some dumb jock? You think that’s an upgrade?”

I don’t answer. Because yes, obviously, and Ragnar is far from dumb.

His voice softens. It’s something he does often, the false sweetness. It makes my hackles raise. “I’m willing to forget it happened. If you apologize. If you try harder.”

Try harder?

The words hit me like a slap across the mouth.

For a second, I do what I always do. Nod. Placate. Say whatever I need to just to get out of this hallway and away from him.

But then I remember Ragnar. How he stood behind me, silent and solid. How he slid his hand around my waist and told Christian to leave. How he never once made me feel small.

I think of the girls at the table. Of Quinn saying Ragnar wont let anything happen. I think of the way he looks at me like I’m whole. Like I matter. And I snap.

“No.”

Christian’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

“No,” I say louder. “I’m done with you.”

His jaw tightens. “Sadie—”

“You were abusive,” I say clearly. “Manipulative. Controlling. You tore me down every chance you got and made me believe I deserved it. But I don’t. I never did.”

He takes a step forward, but I hold my ground.

“I don’t love you. I don’t even like you. In fact, I don’t hate you either. You’re nothing to me now. Less than nothing.”

He scoffs. “You think your parents will stand by you if you keep making these kinds of decisions?”

I don’t hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”

“You think someone like him actually gives a shit? You think you matter to people like that? He’ll screw you and toss you away just like everyone else. At least I knew who you really were. Poor little Sadie, only good to fuck and barely that.”

I see red.

I don’t think. I don’t hesitate.

I punch him.

My fist slams into the bridge of his nose with a crack that’s more satisfying than anything I’ve felt in months. Possibly even orgasms with Ragnar, and that’s saying something. He stumbles back, clutching his face, eyes wide in shock as blood seeps between his fingers.

“You absolute dick,” I hiss, my heart racing like a drum line. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. Not anymore. Not ever again. I am too goddamn good for you, Christian, and I’m done letting you treat me like I’m worthless.”

He blinks at me, stunned and furious, but I’m already walking away. My hand throbs and my knuckles sting, but I don’t care. I don’t feel ashamed. I feel free.

The bathroom door swings shut behind me with a satisfying bang.

I lean against the sink, breathing hard, and when I look in the mirror, my reflection is flushed and messy and a little wild. But strong.

Not someone’s mistake. Someone’s choice.

They know something’s wrong the second I slide back into the booth.

Tristan’s eyes snap to my face. “What happened?”

I grab my drink and take a long, steadying sip. “Christian was here. He cornered me outside the bathroom.”

Quinn’s already halfway to standing. “What the hell?”

“I’m okay,” I say quickly. “He’s mad. Said I embarrassed him. Said I should apologize. But I didn’t.”

“What did you say?” Jen asks.

“I told him I’m done. For good. That he’s nothing to me.”

Tristan nods like a general receiving intel. “I’m going to let the bartender know. He doesn’t get to lurk around and intimidate people.”

She’s already out of her seat and heading for the bar before I can stop her.

Mads looks at me. “Do you want to call the police?”

“No,” I say, thinking of the way his nose crunched under my fist. Technically, I assaulted him. “I don’t think that’ll do anything. I don’t think he’ll try anything… but if that ever changes, I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

“Okay,” she says. “But we’re taking you home. No arguments.”

I nod.

Quinn puts an arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I think I might be a little proud of me too,” I whisper.

Jen smiles. “You should be. That was badass.”

By the time Tristan gets back, I’ve finished my cider and my hands have stopped shaking.

“He’s gone,” she says. “Bartender walked him out himself. Do I want to ask about the blood dripping down his expensive shirt?”

I wince. “Thanks. And no, probably not.”

“Always.”

The lights are on when I walk in.

My mom’s in the kitchen, a cup of tea in her hand. My dad’s nowhere in sight, probably already gone to bed. She turns when the door closes behind me.

“You’re home late,” she says.

I kick off my shoes. “It’s not that late.”

“It’s almost midnight. And you’ve been drinking.”

“I had two ciders.”

“You have work tomorrow.”

I drop my purse on the counter harder than I mean to. “It’s a game day. I’m not on until the afternoon.”

She raises an eyebrow. “No need to be snippy, Sadie. We just want to see you be responsible.”

Something inside me snaps.

“Then stop talking to me like I’m a problem to solve.”

Her mouth opens. Closes. “Excuse me?”

I face her fully. “You always do this. I say something, and instead of listening, you correct it. You fix it. You make it smaller.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? You want to know why I stayed with Christian? Why I’m still in this job I hate? Why I’m drowning in a program I never wanted?”

She stares at me.

“Because I’ve spent my whole life trying to be good enough for you and Dad. Because I thought if I was perfect, you’d stay.”

“Sadie—”

“I don’t even know who I am,” I say. “You didn’t raise me to find myself. You raised me to fit. To be polite. To smile. To succeed.”

Her face softens. “Honey…”

“And Christian?” I laugh, bitter. “He was the worst two years of my life. He made everything my fault. Took out every ounce of anger on me. And I believed him. Because I’ve been trained to put everyone else first.”

Her hands tremble around her mug. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you loved him. Because you wanted us together.”

“We didn’t know.”

“I know,” I whisper. “But I didn’t feel like I could give you the chance to know. Because I was afraid. Of what it would mean if you picked him over me.”

She’s quiet. Horror blooming behind her eyes.

“I didn’t know it could be different,” I say. “Until Ragnar.”

That lands hard.

“That’s right,” I continue. “The man you think I shouldn’t see. He’s the first person who actually listens to me. Who makes me feel smart and worthy as opposed to broken.”

She tries to speak. I keep going.

“I’m failing stats. I can’t retain anything. The numbers just vanish. I’m pushing myself through something I hate, and for what?”

“What do you want?” she asks, quietly.

I blink. “What?”

“I’m asking,” she says. “What do you want?”

I stare at her.

“I want a dog,” I say finally. “Or a hedgehog. I want to paint my walls pink and cover them in glitter. I want to take photos of places I’ve never been. I want to start a travel blog, even if no one reads it. I want the space to learn who I am when I’m not terrified of failing you.”

I pause.

“And I think… I want Ragnar.”

She sets the mug down. Comes to me. Doesn’t touch. Just looks.

“You’re not failing me,” she says. “You never have. I’m so sorry you thought you couldn’t tell me who you are. I want to know you, the real Sadie. I want her to know I’m lucky to be her mom.”

For a long time, we just stand there.

And for the first time, I let her see me.