Page 54 of Left-Hand Larceny

“F-family is supposed to b-b-be the p-place you can be m-messy. The p-people who w-w-won’t j-judge or c-care.”

I laugh and it comes out watery. “To be fair, I haven’t actually tried being messy.” Because what if I’m right? What if it isn’t okay? What if that teensy-tiny chance they turn their backs turns out to be true?

We stand there, awkward and tender and too close to something dangerous again. It’s becoming something of a habit for us. Like setting boundaries spoke this attraction, this pull, into existence. I can’t be sorry.

Finally, I take a breath. “In the spirit of fairness,” I say. “Can I tell you a secret, too?”

He nods.

“Sometimes,” I whisper, staring at my shoes. “Sometimes I think I’m so concerned with who I’m supposed to be that I have no idea who Sadie Jones actually is.”

I’m in school for something I don’t love because I’ve put too much time in to quit now. I’m working a job my parents chose because even if I don’t love it, I don’t want to disappoint them. I dated a boy I didn’t even like because everyone said we were perfect together.

I say my favorite color is a sedate blue like my mother’s, when it’s the brightest pink imaginable. Violently pink. Shield your eyes neon. I read fantasy novels because Tristan recommends them, but I prefer a sappy romance. I say I’m fine not knowing anything about my lineage, my biological family, so I won’t hurt anyone’s feelings. They gave me everything. The least I can do is to be grateful. Right?

Now I might be attracted to this gorgeous man even as I insist we’re just friends. Yet another thing I am burying deep, lying about. To myself.

Every single one of those things I could change. I could. The real secret is that I’m too afraid of the fallout.

I peek up at him, feeling my heart pound. His reaction could hurt me, but I’m unable to not gauge his response. It feels like being underwater, kicking up to the surface, feeling the burn and ache in my lungs as I stretch for air.

Ragnar doesn’t look shocked or judgmental. He nods, almost like he knows what I mean, what I’m trying to say.

“It—” his throat moves as he swallows. I want to press my nose to his skin. I think it would calm the nerves vibrating through every cell of my body. “It’s o-okay.”

His hands tighten over mine before he drops them, taking a step back. Cool air rushes into the space between us and I shiver. Right. I can’t be clutching the team goalie in the middle of the Stand hallway. Not where just anyone could walk by. Definitely not when I’m the one who said his attraction, giving into it, would be a colossally bad idea. It really doesn’t matter that I feel like my skin stretched thin and my lungs filled with pond water the minute he let go.

“I-if it h-helps, the r-real Sadie?” Ragnar’s words cut through the rising panic. “I l-like her. A lot.”

And somehow, those words make it a lot easier to breathe.

I sit across from Sadie at the same table as last time, the smooth wood still sticky under my forearms. The afternoon sun oozes through the oversized windows. The late-lunch crowd thinned to only a few tables. A trio of women on the jukebox warn about a boyfriend being back in town, the music filling the quiet gaps between clinks of cutlery and bursts of muted laughter from the counter.

Sadie curls her fingers nervously around her glass of water, the black polish on her nails chipped at the edges. Her dark braid slips over her shoulder as she leans forward, the pink streak glinting under the light.

“My professor didn’t grade the last assignment yet,” she says, voice a little rushed, “but she gave me this little thumbs-up when I left the lecture, so,” Sadie wiggles her thumb in the air, grinning sheepishly. “I’m hoping that’s a good sign.”

I nod, feeling a swell of quiet pride. Even to someone as socially challenged as me, that seems like a fairly obvious good sign.

“Yes. I-I w-would agree.”

She flushes, the color a soft pink high on her cheekbones. I once heard her tell Quinn that she’s glad she doesn’t blush. That was right after a teasing joke had turned the other woman the color of a fire engine or the Chicago jersey her husbandstill wears just to mess with Vic. At the time I thought it was funny Sadie didn’t know, but then Quinn didn’t correct her and I realized no one besides me seemed to notice. I like that fact significantly more than I should.

“Thanks, Rags.” She ducks her head, almost shy, but I still see her lips curve in a smile. She runs her pointer finger through the condensation on her glass. “I really appreciate all your help.”

I push aside the menu. I already know what I’m ordering. She, however, seems hesitant, eyes darting over the laminated pages but not landing anywhere. She wasn’t this hesitant the last time we came. I try to catch her eye and she avoids me. I frown.

The last time we were here, I ordered nothing, mostly because I was headed back in to the gym. Maybe she’s worried I won’t eat again? It’s not what would bother me, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worrying the woman across from me. It’s the kind of thing that would bother Kat. I have a memory seared in my brain from the last time I was home: my baby sister furiously opening the refrigerator and sighing like the world was ending. All because she wanted a yogurt and had decided she couldn’t eat it if no one else was hungry. There’s an obvious solution.

Our waitress looks like she’s doodling on her notepad as she hovers. We’ve already sent her away twice, not quite ready to order. This time I make eye contact and nod, telling her to come back. A sigh lifts her shoulders.

“I-I’ll have the t-t-turkey c-club. No…no…no m-mayo please.” When I look across the table, Sadie is staring at me wide-eyed. “F-fries?” She nods, just a slight dip of her chin, but it’s enough. “Sh-she’ll have f-f-fries with extra k-ketchup. Did you w-want anything e-else?”

Sadie shakes her head and the waitress barely even glances at us as she jots down our orders before she shuffles away.

“Sorry,” Sadie says, her eyes jerking sideways before coming back to mine. “I wasn’t sure—I could have done that. Thank you.”

I can’t help the smirk that tugs at the edge of my mouth.

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