Chapter 32: Sadie: Leftovers

SADIE

You’ve got to be shitting me. Is this some kind of stress hallucination?

I stare at Paige, half-convinced if I blink hard enough she’ll turn into one of the mannequins behind her. She doesn’t. Of every person, in every store, in every part of this city, it’s really her?

Rude, honestly, of the Moon Goddess not to grant me this one small mercy.

Her perfect features pull into a cold smile as she steps forward. "Nice meeting you here, Trey."

She certainly seems happy about it.

Relief floods through me when Trey ignores her and keeps moving toward one of the sofas inside the store.

He lowers me onto the sofa, and the position gives me an excellent view of Paige looking like she wants to set me on fire with nothing but eye contact.

Trey turns toward one of the sales attendants hovering nearby. "Get me dresses in—" He looks down at me. "Size?"

"Six," I answer.

The sales attendant barely gets a step away before another voice cuts across the store.

"Actually, bring every dress you have in a six."

My hand stills against the sofa.

No way.

With Paige already here, Ezra shouldn’t surprise me nearly as much as he does when he steps out from behind a curtain.

What the hell is this?

With one hand tucked into his pocket, he looks around the room before his attention finally lands on me. His eye twitches slightly, enough to tell me he’s not as relaxed as he’s pretending to be.

"You don’t need to bother," he tilts his head in Trey’s direction. "I’m already buying every size-six dress in the store."

Jerk. Asshole. Barbaric.

Paige isn’t even close to a size six. Unless he’s taken up cross-dressing, this little stunt is aimed entirely at me.

From the corner of the store, two sales attendants cover their mouths, watching us like we’re the day’s free entertainment.

Ugh. Paige and Ezra are such losers. Grown adults who can’t see me in public without turning it into an event, and judging by the way Ezra is looking at Trey, he’s already gearing up to prove it again.

I reach for Trey’s hand and tug lightly.

"Let’s just go," I say under my breath. "It’s not worth it."

He gives me no indication he heard me, only steps forward until my hand slips from his and falls back onto my thigh.

Across from him, Ezra straightens and Paige shifts closer to his side.

"You’re actually trying to compete with me over dresses now?" Trey asks. "How badly do you need to win at something?"

Ezra’s easy smile flattens. "You can’t—"

Trey scoffs. "Actually, why don’t I just buy the store? Then you can lose one more time and we can all move on."

My lips part.

The warmth from the car feels very far away all of a sudden. This version of Trey is colder, every word placed exactly where it’ll hurt, and the worst part is how effortless he makes it sound.

"What have you ever won that wasn’t handed to you on a platter?" Ezra fires back. "What?"

Trey pulls out his wallet and slides a card between two fingers. "What’s your monthly allowance again, brother? You even got enough to cover every dress in here?"

Ezra’s jaw hardens.

Trey looks him over, somehow with even less respect than he gave my outfit earlier. "That shirt looks cheap. The brand asked me for a collab once but I turned them down." He pockets his wallet and turns to the attendant. "Get me the dresses I asked for."

She hesitates between them before starting toward the racks.

"Don’t you dare move," Ezra snaps, stopping her cold.

Paige folds her arms, looking between the attendants. "Didn’t you hear him? Get every size-six dress in the store."

Nobody so much as reaches for a hanger.

I sink a little farther into the sofa. "Paige, maybe sit this one out. You’ve embarrassed yourself enough already."

Her head snaps toward me. "What did you say?"

"You heard me."

"Sadie." Ezra cuts in sharply. "You really need to learn your place. Don’t know when to shut up, do you?"

Trey moves before I can decide what I want to say to that. He steps directly into Ezra’s line of sight, broad shoulders blocking me almost completely from where I’m sitting.

"What’s her place?" he asks, taking another step toward him. "Huh?"

Ezra looks over Trey’s shoulder at me.

There’s no anger in his face, just that old, flat dismissal I know too well. The look that says nothing coming out of my mouth could possibly be worth listening to.

Then he turns back to Trey with a smirk.

"You’re really going this far for my leftover?" His brows lift. "Are you that desperate?"

That should hurt more than it does. Maybe I’ve finally reached my limit, because instead of sinking into myself, all I feel is anger—hot and sudden enough to make my hands tense against my thighs.

"Leftover?" Trey repeats, his jaw tightening. "Bold of you to say that when..." He gestures lazily at Paige. "When she’s with you."

Ezra’s focus cuts to Paige. Her entire face has gone tight, lips pressed together as she stares at Trey.

Something heavy drops into my stomach.

Oh.

Don’t. Don’t do the math on this one, Sadie.

I do the math anyway. After all, there’s really only one way to take that, isn’t there?

Paige and Trey have had something going on.

It shouldn’t matter. Trey can hook up with whoever he wants, and Paige can collect Mercer brothers like limited-edition handbags if that’s what makes her happy, so why does the realization scrape at something inside my chest?

I look down at my hands.

She’s had Ezra. Trey too, apparently. Meanwhile, I spent three years being Ezra’s mate and he barely touched me, which means I’m not even technically his leftover. That would require there being something to leave behind.

The thought presses under my ribs until it hurts.

It’s disgusting. Annoying. Stupidly unfair in a way I can’t explain without sounding pathetic. The three of them have managed to sleep with each other and sitting here between them suddenly makes me feel ridiculously small.

I can’t stay here.

The second I push myself up, pain shoots through my feet so fast I have to grab the edge of the sofa and wait for it to ease.

"Sadie."

I ignore Trey and take another uneven step.

"Where are you going?" he demands.

"I lost the mood." Each word comes out clipped enough to make the point for me. "I don’t need dresses anymore."

"Sit back down."

Of course it’s an order. Because why would Trey Mercer discover the concept of asking nicely today of all days?

I shake my head and keep moving. "I said I don’t want them."

"Sadie—"

"Listen to her, brother." Ezra cuts in, and I stop. When I glance back, there’s a smugness on his face that makes my skin crawl. "Don’t fight a lost battle, especially for a lost cause."

My fist clenches at my side. "I’m not leaving because of you."

The smugness on his face doesn’t move, which only makes me angrier.

"I’m leaving because the two of you are disgusting to be around." My attention shifts between him and Paige. "You’re mean, obnoxious, obsessed with making everything ugly, and still convinced that makes you important. It doesn’t. It just makes you exhausting."

I turn toward the exit and keep going, limping badly enough that every few steps send another sharp ache through my feet. Whatever damage I’m doing can become Future Sadie’s problem. Right now, I just need out of this place. Away from Ezra, Paige, the stupid dresses, and especially whatever Trey meant when he pointed at her.

By the time I make it outside the mall, my feet are throbbing.

"Sadie!" Trey’s voice follows me through the entrance. "Can you stop walking, damn it!"

I stop and press my tongue hard against the inside of my cheek.

A few seconds later, he catches up to me, nose red from the cold and anger burning in his dark green eyes.

Anger? What exactly does he have to be angry about?

"What do you think you’re doing?" he demands. "Why couldn’t you just let me sort it out?"

For a second, all I can do is stare at him, because somehow he’s managed to come out here acting like I’m the problem.

"I want to go back," I say. "Take me back, Trey, or I’ll call a cab."

His expression hardens.

I turn away before he can say anything else, but his hand closes around my wrist, dragging me back.

"Let me go." I snap but even a sharp pull does nothing. His grip stays firm. "Trey, let me go. You’re hurting me."

His eyes drop to his hand around my wrist. His fingers go still, something cutting through the anger on his face, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it appeared. His grip loosens.

"Get in the car," he barks, already walking ahead.