Chapter 65: Sadie: Crossed Lines(II)

SADIE

"How can you take her side?" Dixie shrieks. "You, of all people? How can you do this to me?"

Trey turns toward her slowly, still holding me. My hand rests against his chest, and his heart is pounding beneath it. Mine hasn’t settled since the bottle broke, but the tension running through him makes me think he’s worried about what she might do next.

"Dixie, stop. Step away from the glass."

She shakes her head and moves toward it instead. I look from the shards to her bare feet, hardly believing she’s about to step on them.

"No, please don’t." My voice comes out sharp enough to surprise me. "You don’t have shoes on."

She looks straight at us and takes another step. Glass crunches beneath her foot and my stomach turns. She winces, but when she lifts it again, there’s blood on the floor, and she keeps moving.

"Dixie, listen to me," Trey sounds desperate now. "We’ll talk. I’ll take care of your feet, but you have to stop walking on that."

"You did this to me," she cries. "You knew I loved you. Was I not good enough, or were you just using me the whole time?" She swallows, still looking only at him. "I left my boyfriend because I thought it would make you choose me. You didn’t even try."

"We can—"

"Well, fine." Her gaze flicks to me. "It’s gotten to this."

"Dixie, hurting yourself isn’t going to make this better," I reach out to her. "Trust me, I’ve been—"

"Oh, fuck off." She glares at me.

I nearly glare back. Then I see the blood gathering around her feet and remember she’s still standing on the glass.

"You’re such a hypocrite," she sneers. "Fucking one brother last week and the other the next. You act like you’re better than everyone, when really, nobody’s ever paid attention to you before."

"Yes." My voice shakes, but I nod. "Nobody’s ever paid attention to me. You can have that one. Just step away from the glass, okay? Trey will help you."

She laughs and turns to him. "This is who you’re ditching me for? Or did she do something to you?" Her laugh fades when he doesn’t answer. "Look at me, Trey. I’m not moving until you tell me why you’re doing this."

"I’ve told you. We’re not compatible."

"That’s not an answer!" she shouts. "I won’t accept it."

Trey’s jaw works. He looks at the blood beneath her feet before his eyes return to her face. "Then I’m calling security to remove you."

Dixie goes pale. She seems to have expected him to say something else, but he takes out his phone with one hand, still holding me with the other.

A few seconds pass before someone answers. "I have an intruder outside my unit," he says. "Put her on the do-not-admit list. She’s no longer welcome here, and I need two officers to come get her. She’s injured her feet, so bring a first-aid kit. If she needs an ambulance, call one. I’ll cover it."

He ends the call and puts his phone away. Dixie stares at him for a moment before letting out a disbelieving gasp.

"You’re kicking me out?"

"I tried talking to you calmly. That didn’t work." Trey glances at her feet. "Security will get you help, but I’m not spending the rest of the night arguing with you."

"I hate you, Trey."

That’s a quick turn from begging him to choose her, but I keep the thought to myself. She’s still standing there bleeding.

"I’m going to ruin your life," she says. "You’ll wish you’d never—"

The elevator dings behind us. Two security officers come into the hallway and stop short when they see the glass.

"That’s her," Trey points to Dixie. "Get her out of here, but take care of her feet."

"Ma’am, please step toward me," one officer instructs. "There’s glass all around you."

"I’m not going anywhere." Dixie jerks her arm back when he reaches for it.

"Okay, don’t step on anything else," the second officer adds, moving to her other side. "We’ll help you over."

She protests, but between them, they get her off the shards and support her when she tries to put weight on her feet.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" Dixie shouts as they lead her toward the elevator. "Trey, you asshole! You think you can throw me out and go back to her? Fuck both of you!"

She’s still yelling when the elevator doors shut. My eyes stay on the blood beside the shattered bottle. I know she did it herself, but I can’t stop wondering if she’ll be all right.

"Are you okay?" Trey asks. He checks my face, then my arms. "Did any of it get you?"

"No." I study him for a moment. "Are you?"

"I’ll be fine. Security knows her feet need treatment." He shifts me higher in his arms and carries me toward our apartment, stepping around the glass.

I glance back at the elevator. I don’t know the whole story between Trey and Dixie, but he just watched someone he used to care about hurt herself because he wouldn’t take her back. Whatever else I think of her, that can’t have been easy for him.

Maxwell spent tonight talking about Trey as though all he had to offer anyone was a hookup. Dixie came here expecting him to comfort her, then acted as though he’d wronged her by having feelings of his own. He can be impossible sometimes, but he’s never pushed me to give him anything. There’s so much more to him than the version of him they’ve both decided to believe.

Trey opens our door, and I’m still watching his face when it shuts behind us. He starts toward the sofa with me in his arms, and only then do I remember what we were doing before Dixie interrupted us.

I shove at his chest.

He lets me go immediately. My feet hit the floor, and I stagger back a step.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his brow raised.

I was more than okay with kissing him in the elevator. I wanted him badly enough to forget why I’d started. But I kissed him to distract him from Dixie, and after watching what happened between them, going straight back to it feels wrong. He doesn’t know why I pulled him close in the first place. I can’t keep kissing him while letting him believe it happened for a reason it didn’t.

The trouble is, I can barely explain the difference to myself, much less to him while he’s waiting for an answer.

The first idea I come up with is terrible. I use it anyway, staggering toward the sofa and flopping onto it with my eyes closed and my tongue hanging out.

What are you doing, Sadie? My heart is racing. He carried you three steps into the apartment, and this is the explanation you chose?

Trey doesn’t say anything. The longer the silence lasts, the hotter my face gets. I finally crack one eye open and find him standing over me, hands on his hips, and face scrunched up.

"What are you doing?" Trey asks.

"Drunk," I mumble, letting my head roll against the sofa.

He lets out a loud scoff, sounding almost disappointed. "You want to quit embarrassing yourself, or should I help?"