to us, and I should have protected you sooner.
I shouldn’t have let that behavior slide. I
should have held him accountable when I had
the chance, and then maybe no one would have been hurt.
So, here it is. I’m sorry.
I’ll probably say it again another thousand
times and every chance I get, but I hope you know it’s true. Mom said, “All men make
mistakes, but good men make it right.” So,
that’s what I’m trying to do now.
Here I sit in my favorite diner while I
write this letter to you, trying to imagine you rolling your eyes as you read it. Giving me shit for trying to be such a “fancy writer.” Telling me to stop trying to be so fucking righteous.
Obviously you’re still seventeen in my mind.
I know you’re twenty-five now, but until I see you again, you’re still that same sarcastic,
bratty teenager I remember. Still my best friend. Still the kid I would spill my guts to, just so you could give me the worst advice
possible.
And while I know you’re not a kid
anymore, I’d still die for some of that bad
advice.
So, tell me what to do, Isaac.
With some coercion that I’m sure you would
have loved to see, I managed to get Dad to
sign the property title of the club over to Sage.
Because she deserves it.
Because I hate to say it, he was right. I
can’t have the church and her—not in the ways that I want.
So I can either give up my dreams of
running this place on my own, or I can give
up her.
And you’re probably thinking, “Jesus,
Adam. How is that even a question?” I’d just like to point out that Sage has never been a bad influence on my life, but I have always been one on hers. So, I really am thinking about her in this scenario. I’m just afraid that she’d be better off without me.
With all of her brilliant ideas and good
intentions, I can only imagine what she could accomplish.
I have no clue what my future holds, but
I know what hers will.
A
According to the woman who worked at the club, Sage’s ex-boyfriend skipped town and
closed it down once Dad’s stuff went public.
Apparently, all the VIP assholes were afraid of their secrets getting out, so they pulled their patronage.
Which means it’s all hers.
So who am I to interfere? Right?
Am I only being selfish if I stay?
After all of this, would I hold her back?
And this is what made me think of you. I
understand that I was too much like our dad
to earn a place in your life, but I still want you to be happy and free and never face his
judgment or bigotry again. I want all the best things in the world for you, Isaac. I hope
you find love. And success.
I hope you’ve found a new family.
And I hope you never miss me a day in
your life.
Because I understand now that loving
someone doesn’t mean forging a way into their life. It means being able to step out of it for their sake.
I know you may never read this letter, but
I’m going to continue writing them. Maybe
someday you’ll write back, but it’s okay if you don’t.
You’re free from him, and you’re free from
me.
I love you, Isaac.
And I’ll keep praying that there will come
a day when I can wrap my arms around you
again.
Your brother,
Adam
Forty-Seven
Sage
I ’m on the verge of tears as I drive. Am I overreacting?
No.
I’m going with my gut and my gut is telling me that something is up with Adam. He’s not answering his phone and he left me with the signed transfer of ownership paperwork along with a fifty-thousand-dollar check from his account and the note reading, Your first investor.
My heart is telling me he would never make a deal with his father for that club.
My gut is telling me to worry.
There are only a handful of places I could imagine him to be. I called his mother right away and she said she hadn’t seen him. And a swing by the old church proved wrong again. Why he would go there, I don’t know. But I had to at least check.
I drive around town for a few minutes, mostly worrying that he went back to his dad’s hotel or he’s on a one-way plane ride out of town. Of course, I’m just being dramatic now.
When I look down at my phone, I realize it’s Saturday, at eight in the morning.
And realization dawns.
Of course.
Pulling into a spot along the street, I snatch the folder off the passenger seat and fly out of the truck. As I hurry along the quiet sidewalk, I worry my lip, running my tongue over the ring as I do when I’m mostly nervous.
The bell above Sal’s chimes as I enter. The crowd has already gathered in the lobby, but I push past all of them, ignoring the hostess at her stand as I take stock of the patrons at the bar. The last seat on the corner, where he usually sits, is filled—by someone else.
“Can I help you?” the hostess asks as I let out a despondent sigh.
My eyes scan the rest of the diner, landing on a dark-haired man with his head down like he’s writing something.
“Ma’am?” the hostess calls again, but I ignore her, rushing toward the booth in the back where Adam is sitting alone.
People are staring at me, and I get the feeling I’m causing a scene, but at the moment, I don’t care.
“What are you doing?” I ask loudly as I approach his table, slamming the papers down next to his cup of coffee. The panic is coming out as anger, but I need him to assure me he didn’t do what I think he did.
As his head snaps up to find me standing there, there’s softness mixed with surprise in his eyes.
He reaches for my hand.
“Hey, Peaches. What’s wrong?”
At the sight of him, tall and handsome and as perfect as the day I met him, I feel a swell of emotion bubble to the top. My voice cracks with my next words.
“Tell me, Adam. Did you make a deal with the devil for this?”
His shoulders fall away from his ears.
“Wha—” he starts before gesturing for me to sit down. I feel the eyes of the other diners on us as I stand there in a panic, but at the moment, I really don’t care. “Sit down, Sage.
Let’s talk.”
My eyes are stinging with tears as I stare at him. I didn’t realize fully until this moment how much of a permanent fixture Adam has become in my life. Just the thought of my apartment without him leaves me feeling shattered and hopeless. It started out as a scheme, but it was never truly fake to me. From the very beginning, I felt the comfort of his voice and the safety of his touch. Even when our dating was supposedly fake, I felt the pride of having him at my side, calling him mine. It was reckless of me to spend even one
second around Adam Goode because my heart was at risk from the moment he gave me his seat four months ago.
“Just answer the question,” I reply shakily. “What did you give him to get this?”
He looks at the envelope. Then he shakes his head.
“Nothing.”
“What?” I drop into the seat across from him. My heart is hammering in my chest, and I’m lost in a fury of emotion.
Should I be angry or confused, or relieved? Because right now, I’m all of them.