Page 125 of Promise Me

“Four days.” Carver grins.

“When do we get started?” Archer asks.

“Right now,” I stand quickly, my chair screeching as it moves back. The three of us head for the door and for the first time in days, I have a smile on my lips.

I’ve got my friends back for the weekend, which means there is one more group I need to message right now.

I reach into my pocket and send a quick group text to Linc, my dad, and my brothers. One that is short, sweet, and to the point. A text I should have sent three years ago.

Hudson

I need your help.

CHAPTER THIRTY

SADIE

I’m losing my mind.

I can almost laugh at that saying because I actually did lose mine.

But now it’s back, and it’s a lot to pack in.

I roll to my side and pull my comforter all the way to my chin. This has pretty much been my spot for the last three days. The only times I’ve left were to find food. My dad has checked on me a few times a day, but my answer is always the same when he asks me how I’m doing.

Fine.

Just one word.

At this point, I’m sure he thinks I’m crazy. I’m more distraught over my memory coming back than I was over losing it. Yes, not remembering my mother’s funeral sucked, but Hudson made it special for me. He didn’t force me to just move past it—he let me go on as if my life just picked up where I left off three years ago.

That means something to me, and I’m not sure how to cope with all of it.

Silent tears start to fall, the way they have at random moments since it all came back to me. I can remember us in Mrs. Whittaker’s space and arguing just as clearly as I can remember waking up in Hudson’s arms a few days ago to find him watching me. I can remember the way he kissed me good morning and held me and the way he rolled me to my back and showed me how much he cares about me.

I swipe the tears away the best I can.

The emotions I have for him are so overwhelming that I don't know where to start processing first. And the worst part is, I want to call him and get his help. He’s the one I want to run to right now, but … I don’t know what to do.

I inhale and then sit up.

I cannot keep crying over this.

A knock sounds at my door, and like clockwork, my dad pokes his head in.

“Hey, hun, how are you?”

“Fi—” I start to say but stop myself. “Why did you let me keep working at the bakery?”

My question catches him off guard, but he nods and sits on the corner of my bed. This topic is long overdue, but now is as good a time as any.

“You said you wanted it, and for a time, I think you did. But no matter how many times I could see that it wasn’t what you wanted anymore, you held your head high and said that it was.”

“Oh.”

“You know,” he goes on, “if you still want to sell it to Brooke, even knowing everything you know now, I think you should.”

My next breath hitches, and the tears start again. “But I made it this far just fine. I can’t just sell it and erase Mom’s biggest memory. The thing she loved most.”

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