Page 53 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

“It suits you. In a rugged, stripped-down way.”

“I feel calmer out here. Get less bogged down in my thoughts. But the gym is pretty awesome too. Pushing myself and sweating my ass off is a great stress reliever. What about you?” I take a blade of grass and use it to draw a line down her shin. “Did you get into axe throwing to destress?”

“Not exactly.” She shivers but doesn’t nudge the tracing grass away. “I can thank a horrible date for that.”

My frown muscles kick in. “I already don’t like the jerk.”

“You and me both. His name was Derek, and he was a mansplaining idiot. Took me axe throwing to show off, but he wasn’t great at it, barely listened to the instructor. I, on the other hand, followed everything she said.”

“You were always a kiss ass,” I tease.

“I like learning!” She tosses a stick at my stomach.

I mime being wounded, then take the branch and break it into smaller pieces. “You were a great student, so I’m not surprised you learned fast. But back to the jerk. I’m guessing he couldn’t handle you being better than him.”

“He pouted the whole night and never called again, thankfully, but I got hooked. Couldn’t go often enough to join regular competitions, but I loved how empowered I felt when I hit the target. Like I could take on the world and win.”

“Being around Max today made me feel something similar.” I think about our book club talk, how deeply his reactions affected me. “Knowing him makes me feel bigger than I am. More than I am. Like I have a stronger purpose in my life.” I scrape a hand through my hair and duck my head. “I already love him so much it hurts.”

“Oh, Des.”

Her hand comes to my knee, and I look into her eyes. A swirl of affection glows in their depths, filling my lungs with more than purpose. A deep well of emotion rises in me, achingly tender but also fierce. The urge to protect her and our son. To care and provide for them any way I can.

To love Sadie with my whole heart and body.

I catch a wisp of her loose hair, rub it between my fingers. “Can I kiss you, Sprite?”

Her breaths tremble, but she nods.

Heart beating a mile a minute, I cup her cheeks, tilt her face up to mine, and finally press our lips together.

Lightning. That’s the only way to describe the feel of Sadie Jones. A crackling zing through my body. I kiss her softly, tender presses that turn my body hot and hard. I lick her bottom lip, a question. Open up for me? She does—fuck, yes she does—and she moans, unabashed and needy. Because this. This is us kissing deeply, feeling every hardship and memory we’ve earned, good and bad. We’re a portrait of sadness and hope and missing and first loves torn apart too soon.

The Taste of Wonder, that’s what I’d call this work of art.

Before I get carried away, I press my forehead to hers. “That was some kiss.”

She rubs her nose against mine. “I think my stomach fluttered away.”

My smile comes so easily it almost freaks me out. “I’ll make sure to catch it for you.”

And be the man she deserves.

If I want any kind of future with my family, I need to quit procrastinating. Switch gears from Happy Hiking Leader to Take-No-Prisoners Law Student. Give Sadie the security she’s been fighting for since I disappeared, starting with a visit to Duke University.

SIXTEEN

Adulting is no joke. The past five days have been nonstop planning and doing. And stressing. I drove to Duke University and stressed the whole way there. I spoke with the dean and stressed throughout the whole meeting. I exhumed my sad story of my criminal dad and witness protection and—you guessed it—I melted into a puddle of stress sweat. I’m as exhausted as a test subject who’s been forced to stare at the color yellow for hours, but sleeping’s still been an issue.

It’s nearly midnight. Bats are flying as I lounge in my backyard. I’ve already finished Divergent—book club with Max resumes Monday, after which I’ll be telling him who I am. That upcoming confession is part of the reason I can’t sleep. As is the slow pace Sadie and I have set with each other. Neither of us has pushed for another date yet. I’m letting that kiss and fun afternoon linger, living off of every remembered word and intimate moment. Hopefully Sadie is reliving our date too, settling into the idea of us. As consuming as those Max and Sadie thoughts are, school seems to be pushing to the forefront of my insomnia.

Feeling unsettled, I pull out my phone and text my caftan-wearing former neighbor, who is also a night owl.

Des: I found a craft I’m actually good at.

This week’s effort is embroidery bracelets. Shock of all shocks, I’m not half-bad at them. I’m sticking to basic braiding patterns. Chevron V shapes that aren’t perfectly uniform, but working with string beats origami paper cuts and needlepoint wounds. I bought green, pink, purple, white, blue, and orange thread—no exhausting yellow—and have already finished one.

Mirielle doesn’t reply right away. Hopefully she’s asleep, not chasing serenity like me. I pin the top knot of another bracelet to my sweatpants when my phone buzzes.