Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Sage

The day after Trevor ambushed me at the hardware store, Molly shows up on my front stoop. Or rather, Bash's front stoop. This isn't my home anymore. It's time to stop playing pretend.

"Hey!" Molly holds up a box. "Viv baked you some treats as a thank-you for all your hard work on the… the book nook… Sage, are those your bags?"

"The van is done," I tell her. My eyes burn, and I despise the thought of sneaking away with my tail between my legs, but I can't imagine facing Bash right now. If I had to look him in the eyes and tell him my plan, he'd try to stop me. Try to argue with me. I don't want to have to see his expression when I tell him that I love him, but I don't love him enough to stay. Because if I did, I'd lose myself in him, and I'd end up resenting that, and then he'd end up resenting me .

My heart breaks just thinking about it. It's easier to leave now than have it all fall apart later.

"Yeah, I mean…" Molly sets her container of goodies on the small table by the door. "It's in the driveway."

"What I mean to say, Molly, is that it's time for me to go. No more excuses."

"You don't have to leave," she tells me.

"Yeah, actually, I do."

Molly opens her mouth to argue, and I can't do this with her, either. Instead of trying to explain, I pull out the piece of mail Trevor handed me yesterday. It's on official bank letterhead. Molly skims it. Her usually pink cheeks grow paler by the second. There's no way she reads the whole thing, but she gets the idea.

"Foreclosure?" she asks, waving the letter toward me. "Is this about your farm?"

"Ranch," I correct automatically. "Remember that guy I was telling you about? The one who was going to save the farm? Without the marriage, he won't pay. And without his money, I lose everything. He even pulled some strings at our local bank to make it happen even faster. If I don't get home yesterday… Everything my family has built for generations. Our legacy. It will be like my dad's life meant nothing."

Molly glares down at the paper as if she wants to tear it to shreds. It would be cathartic, for sure, but it won't make a difference. I knew this was coming. It's the reason I agreed to marry Trevor in the first place.

"Oh, Sage. This is horrible news. Talk to Bash. I know he'd help. He wants you here. We all do."

I drop down onto the couch. Annie Oakpaw must sense that something's wrong because she pokes her head out of the hallway. When she sees Molly, she growls and sinks down on her haunches, unwilling to retreat but disinterested in mingling with a stranger.

"I know he'd help. Only, that feels awful. I can't be a kept woman. I need to be able to stand on my own two feet."

The cushions shift as Molly joins me on the sofa. "We all need some help sometimes."

"Yeah, but not that much." I gesture toward the paper. I owe a lot of money. Hundreds of thousands worth. I can't guarantee that I'll be able to pay him back, either. Otherwise, I'd have just gotten a loan from the bank and been done with it.

Molly sets the paper between us. "I think he'd do anything to make you happy and wouldn't even blink."

"Maybe he wouldn't, but I would. And I don't want him to ever doubt why we're together. I don't want him thinking it's about the money. I want him to know it's because…"

She leans toward me. "Say it. You love him. I see it in your eyes."

And I do. God, how I love Bash. It's a love that fills up every corner of my existence, bright and overwhelming. It's in every breath I take, every thought that crosses my mind, laced through the dreams that haunt my sleep. Loving him is like breathing—natural, essential, life-sustaining. But as much as my heart screams to stay, to hold on and never let go, I know I have to leave.

The weight of my debts, the shadow of my obligations—they hang over me like dark clouds, threatening the one good thing I've found in so long. I can't let him be tainted by my troubles, can't let doubts or debts cloud our future. So, I have to go, to protect him, to preserve what pure thing we have. It guts me, tears at me, leaving a hollow ache where my heart used to be. But it's the only way, even if every step away from him feels like a piece of me is dying, left behind, and irretrievably lost.

"I do. But it doesn't matter. My goal has always been to save the horse farm, preserve my father's legacy." My voice falters, caught on the edge of my own doubts.

"Bash would understand. He comes from the most amazing family. He knows the power of showing up for your people."

"Putting this kind of pressure on our relationship would ruin what we have." I shake my head, the weight of the decision making my shoulders slump.

Molly reaches out to flick my shoulder. "Getting married to an asshat like Trevor would also mess things up, don't you think?"

"You don't get it." I turn my back to the arm of the sofa so that I can face her fully. "With Trevor, I know exactly what I'm getting into. We have a deal. It's a business transaction—don't make that face, I know it's not romantic, and I've made my peace with that." Mostly. "But what am I going to do? Ask Bash for a huge loan without collateral? From then on, no matter what, we're going to have this financial cloud looming over our heads. He will always wonder if I'm with him because I'm using him… even if he tells himself I'm not, he'll wonder. And he'll be right to wonder because I need the money, Molly. I couldn't be with someone who was penniless because then I would lose everything. So, if I'm with someone rich…" I trail off, groping at the air for words.

"There are people who will call you a gold digger," Molly says.

"And they won't entirely be wrong," I admit, my voice a whisper. "At least with Trevor, it's all out in the open. He's using me as much as I'm using him. I don't have to feel guilty about it."

Molly cocks her head and purses her lips, her eyes probing. "But is that what you want for yourself? Not just preserving the farm—but living half a life, tethered to someone you don't love?"

I pause, the question piercing through the layers of justifications I've built around my heart. "It's not just about the farm, Molly. It's about... stability, predictability. It's what I thought I wanted—what I needed after so much uncertainty. But," I let out a long breath, "deep down, part of me wonders what it would be like to chase what makes me happy, not just what makes sense."

Molly leans forward, her expression softening. "Sage, sometimes the best thing you can do for the legacy you're trying to save is to live a life that's true to you. Maybe that's the real way to honor your dad's memory—not just through the land, but through living fully." Her words settle over me like a gentle challenge, nudging the edges of the future I'd resigned myself to. "I understand what you're saying, but I wish you'd reconsider. Because those of us who know your heart would never even think you were a gold digger. In the meantime, do you want my help loading your stuff?"

The offer hangs between us, laden with more than just the weight of boxes and suitcases. It's about choices, paths diverging, and perhaps the beginning of a journey toward something that feels like true north.

Molly cocks her head and purses her lips. I can see that she wants to say even more, but I know she can't because I was up all night thinking about it. Choosing Trevor over Bash sounds crazy on paper, but it's more responsible in the long run. At least this way, what I had with Bash gets to stay real, even if I have to leave it in the past.

Even if I have to spend the rest of my life reliving a memory.

I finally let out a sigh. "That's mighty sweet of you."

Molly helps me pile my belongings in the van, although I notice her stopping to text when she thinks I'm not paying attention. I hope she's not alerting Bash to my impending departure. If he calls, I'm putting him through to voicemail. My heart can't take it. I'll talk to him, just not right now. Not when I'm standing in his driveway, worried I might not find the strength to get in my van and drive away.

Bash never calls, though. Instead, all around the neighborhood, doors start to open. The women I've gotten close to over the last few weeks trail out, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs, sometimes with kids in tow.

Mona arrives hand in hand with Viv. She's as deadpan as ever, but Vivian's eyes are red. "You're really going? Who's going to teach me about power tools now?"

"You can still watch my streams," I tell her. I want to promise to stay in touch, but that would be a lie. Am I really going to call and text this girl while doing my best to put the memory of my time in Vegas firmly in the dust? Yeah, not likely. I'd drive myself crazy keeping in close touch with my new girlfriends and not with him .

"You should keep the dress and the shoes," Layla tells me. "You never know when you might need to dress up, and they suit you."

"Thank you." I hug her, which sets off a whole series of hugs from everyone else, including a tearful Viv.

Delilah hands me a small gift bag. "There are a few hair care products you might want, just in case." She's walking Nudacris, who whines when he sees Annie watching from the van window. She paws at the glass and chirps until I let her out to say goodbye. As before, Nudi flips on his back and lets Annie lick his belly.

"Looks like she wants to help him with his grooming, too." My stupid voice cracks when I try to laugh, giving away my emotions. I cannot cry. I refuse. If I do, they will, and my resolve will crumble under the weight of our tears.

Scarlett offers two small palettes of makeup. "This is what I used on you."

"Y'all really are too sweet." I hug the rest of them goodbye, then retrieve Annie and return her to the van. She doesn't want to leave Nudi, but we've got a long drive ahead of us.

I'm a coward for not texting Bash sooner, and I know it, but what else am I supposed to do? At the last minute, I pull out my phone. "Do you mind if we do a quick goodbye TikTok?"

The ladies all agree, and soon I'm holding up my phone and doing my best to be my usual, carefree internet-persona self. I don't film it as a live, since I plan to keep this short and sweet.

"All right, folks, I'm about to hit the road! I just wanted to say a quick goodbye to everyone here in Vegas. I've had an amazing time getting to know the folks on the Venom team—who knew a country gal could love hockey so much? I never expected to have an experience like this, and it's been unforgettable. But all good things must come to an end, so Annie and I are saying goodbye to our new friends. We're homeward bound."

The ladies behind me wave and call out. Seen through the camera's lens, I can appreciate that the weather is perfect and the breeze is just right. I end the video, type up a quick caption, and hit post. When I'm done, I send a link to Bash.

Then I pause, my fingers hovering over the keyboard of my phone. This goodbye needs more, deserves more. I open our chat, the familiar string of messages a testament to the countless moments we've shared, each one echoing with laughter and whispers of promises neither of us were ready to make. I type, each word heavy with the weight of what I'm leaving behind.

Me: Hey Bash, I just posted something for you. Thank you, truly, for every incredible moment, for every laugh and late-night conversation. It breaks my heart to miss your big game—I know you wanted me there in person—and you deserve all the support in the world. Know that no matter where I am, I'll be wearing your jersey, shouting at the screen, and hoping with everything I've got that you lift that Cup high. You've shown me kindness and affection like I've never known, and I'll carry that with me, always. Take care, and play your heart out. I'll be watching, and I'll be with you, in spirit if not in person.

Sage

XXX OOO

I reread the message, each word a small echo of my aching heart, then hit send before I can change my mind. As I turn off my phone, the silence feels heavier, filled with the ghost of his laughter and the warmth of his gaze, now just memories I'll hold onto, maybe forever.

Even though I can't kiss him goodbye, I can do that much. It'll be my way of getting closure.

Molly gives me one last squeeze. "We're going to miss you, Sage. You're one in a million." I know she means it, too.

I wish I had a choice. I wish I had a backup plan. All I can scrounge up is gratitude for the time I got to spend here, the adventure I can look back on with nothing but delight. Someday I'll be able to tell my kids about this.

Someday, I'll remember this with a smile instead of a broken heart.

Today, I climb into the van, beep the horn twice, and wave. I go out with a smile, waving until I reach the end of the block and turn the corner.

I don't let myself cry until I hit I-15.