Chapter 52

• Sadie didn’t let go at first — fists knotted in his shirt like she was holdin’ him still enough to spit more truth at him if she needed to. Beau didn’t mind — he’d stand there all night with her cheek pressed wet to his collar if that’s what it took to fix what his hush broke.
• But she was tremblin’. Not from cold — dusk was heavy and wet on her bare arms — but from the way his thumb dragged her jaw up, soft and rough where his nose brushed hers.
• “You hate me?” he rasped — voice gone low, cracked, the wind catchin’ it like an old country song scratchin’ off an old porch beam.