Page 74 of Left-Hand Larceny
“Sadie.”
She blinks up at me, lashes wet, breath shallow. “Sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean for you to see that.”
“I’m g-glad I did.”
She shakes her head, hair sticking to the gloss on her lips.
She exhales, shaky, “I thought I could handle it.”
My thumbs stroke over her cheeks. “You d-don’t have to h-handle anything alone.”
She closes her eyes as if my words hit too deep, and then she folds. Stepping into my chest like she’s giving up a fight I didn’t even know she was still having. Her arms come around my waist and her forehead drops against my sternum. I wrap both arms around her and hold tight, blocking out the lights and the violin and every single person in this cursed room.
“I’m sorry,” she says again, voice muffled against the crisp cotton of my shirt. “That I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Y-you owe me n-nothing,” I say into her hair. “This i-is not your f-fault.”
She doesn’t answer, not with words.
Just nods. Just breathes. Just fits. And for now, that’s enough.
From the far side of the room, Spags appears. Calm. Collected. Like he knew.
“You two,” he says, tone light, almost bored. “Need an escape?”
He jerks his head toward the rear hallway. I glance at Sadie. Her hand is trembling slightly. Her breathing is ragged. I nod. Slide my hand down her back.
“C-come on.”
“Ragnar, I—I can’t leave.”
“Yes, y-you c-can.” I stop, turning to face her fully.
Her eyes are wide, frantic.
“People will notice. My mom—she’ll search for me. Someone will ask questions, and Christian—he’ll twist it. It’ll be my fault. I’ll get in trouble.”
My jaw tightens. I step into her space, not to intimidate—just to steady. To hold her up when her fear wants to drag her under.
“You w-won’t,” I say firmly. “You won’t get in t-trouble.”
“But—”
“Look a-at me, Sadie.”
She does.
“I don’t c-care who’s w-w-watching. I don’t care what he s-says. You do not owe this night your b-b-body, your p-peace, or y-your silence. You want o-out? I’ve g-got you. And i-if a-a-anyone has a problem with it, they c-come to me.”
Her breath catches. Her fingers twist into mine.
“I’ve g-got you,” I say again, voice like iron wrapped in velvet. “L-let’s go.”
And this time, she follows.
“I have to at least say my goodbyes, Ragnar.” She says, tears audible between each word. “My boss—”
Over her shoulder, I make eye contact with Spags. He gives us a casual thumbs up.
