Sadie (18+)

Chapter 3

"Did you drive here?"

I nodded shamefully. Vincent shook his head in a disapproving manner but held my arm tightly, guiding me into the living room as though I were blind. Only the muted television illuminated the spacious room.

"I'm sorry," I chirped, wiping my tears with my sleeve. "I didn't mean to wake you up, I just had nowhere else to go."

"You didn't. I was already up," he said, motioning for me to sit down on the couch. "Let me get you some water."

I collapsed onto the couch and leaned backwards, pulling my legs up to my chest. I awkwardly pushed strands of matted brown hair away from my sweaty, tear-streaked face.

"Are they asleep?" I asked quietly when he returned. He placed the glass of water on the coffee table, then sat down on the adjacent couch. He brushed a hand through his brown hair before his eyes settled on me.

Perhaps the alcohol was fogging my judgment, but he looked rather uncomfortable. Our relationship had always been surface-level; I couldn't recall him ever seeing me upset like this. I chewed on my bottom lip, unsure of what to say or how to act.

"Yes, both are asleep," he replied. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"I really don't want to talk about it," I admitted. "It's just stupid family stuff."

Vincent tilted his head to the side, his jaw clenching. "Come on. What happened?"

A lump formed in my throat when I thought about my mother. I took a sip of the water, reluctant to explain but did so after a beat. "My mother's an alcoholic—it's changed her and sometimes she's mean because of it. I just got upset over something she said. Sort of freaked out. It was my fault, but still."

"You never told me she was an alcoholic," he said quietly, a frown tugging at his lips. "You know you can always come to us, right? Gina and I are here for you. And Julia, obviously."

I shook my head. "I don't want to be a burden. I'm sure you guys have enough going on."

"Sadie," he said, letting out a husky laugh. "You're family. You'll never be a burden."

It was quiet a moment before he spoke up again, anxiously tapping his fingers on his thigh, "My father was an alcoholic. I'm sure I can understand what you're going through."

"See, that's what I'm talking about," I said, shaking my head. "I'm probably bringing up bad memories for you just by talking about it."

The cushion he sat upon lifted. I watched him walk over to me, my heart fluttering. He sat down gently as though I were fragile, seconds from shattering.

"Sadie, let my family and I be there for you. And don't ever drive while intoxicated again, seriously. Call me or Gina next time. I don't care how late. That was extremely reckless of you."

"I know," I replied, attempting to ignore the heat that flooded into my cheeks. "How'd you know I was drunk?"

"I could just tell," he said softly, his hazel eyes flickering around my face. "You don't hide it very well."

"Oh," I said awkwardly, scratching the back of my head. How mortifying.

"Promise me you'll call me if this happens again."

I held out a pinky. "I pinky promise."

He wrapped his pinky around mine, chuckling.

The tension in the room shifted; I may have been this close to him physically before, but it felt different this time. In the dim light, I could make out the pores on his face, the stubble, the little bend in his nose. I suppressed the urge to reach out and touch him, to run my hands across his skin. There was something quite marvelous about him. I pulled my pinky away, though I could have kept it there entangled with his forever.

I blinked rapidly, disturbed by my own thoughts yet again.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked, perhaps attempting to fill up the awkward silence.

I shook my head. "Just stay here with me, if you don't mind. I don't want to be alone right now."

I cringed when he got up, assuming I'd said the wrong thing and scared him away. Thankfully, he was just retrieving a blanket.

"Lay down," he instructed. I complied, of course, scooting until my back pressed against the sofa. He grabbed ahold of my boots and slid them off, then placed them down next to the couch. "Do you want another blanket?"

"One is fine," I responded, tucking in my knees. "I can do this myself, you know."

He frowned. "Julia loves when I tuck her in, even now. Something about feeling young again, I think."

The thought of Julia sleeping soundly upstairs brought a smile to my face. I missed her—I had needed her tonight, but found him instead. I didn't quite mind the turn of events.

"It actually does sound kind of nice when you put it that way," I admitted. "You'll stay with me for a bit, right?"

He nodded, then draped the blanket over my body, careful to not touch me directly. He sat down next to me after tucking in the sides. I shifted closer to him, resting my head on his broad shoulder.

A sigh escaped his lips after a beat; I felt his body relax and tried to pretend like it didn't have an effect on me, though our proximity was rapidly accelerating my heart rate.

"Is your father okay now?" I asked quietly. "I mean, is he still an alcoholic? I don't think I ever met him."

I felt him shake his head next to me. "He passed away years ago. Liver cancer."

"I don't remember Julia going to the funeral," I said. "I would have remembered. I'm sorry."

"She was young, and we weren't very close—for obvious reasons, of course. My parents didn't come up here much, anyway. We're much closer to Gina's side of the family."

I nodded, acknowledging that sometimes there isn't much else to say. I listened to the house; the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the ice cracking in the water, the occasional creak in the floors, the soft breathing from Vincent next to me. I glanced over, afraid he'd fallen asleep. He sensed my movement and stretched an arm.

"Still awake," he mumbled, clearing his throat. I could tell he was dozing off, as his tone was deep and gruff.

"Don't stay awake for me," I said, frowning. "Don't you have work in the morning?"

"I'll call out if I need to," he replied. "Don't worry about me. You need to rest."

I snuggled in closer as the warmth radiated from his strong body, reveling in his familiar, comforting scent. I shut my eyes, the weight of my head in the crook of his warm neck.

"Thank you," I whispered, my breath against his skin. It was all I ever wanted; a shoulder for my head.

This time, he did fall asleep. His soft snores lulled me into a slumber.