The Quite Ridge

Chapter 34-Sadie

Maddie didn’t drive back toward town right away.

She sat there for a second, her hands still on the wheel, her eyes fixed ahead like she was working through something she hadn’t said yet. The engine idled low beneath us, steady and constant, but it didn’t match the way everything inside me felt.

Too calm.

Too normal.

Like it didn’t belong here.

I didn’t rush her.

Didn’t say anything either.

Because I didn’t know what to say.

Because anything I said would make it real.

And once it was real—

there was no going back.

Everything felt different now.

Heavier.

Like something had shifted and settled into place whether I wanted it to or not.

“We’re not staying there,” she said finally.

Not a question.

Not something she was asking my opinion on.

I nodded. “I know.”

My voice sounded distant.

Like it didn’t belong to me.

She turned her head then, her eyes settling on me in a way that made it harder to look away. “That wasn’t nothing, Sadie.”

No.

It wasn’t.

I looked down at my hands, my fingers curled slightly into my palms like I was holding onto something I couldn’t see. “I didn’t leave it like that.”

“I know you didn’t.”

Her voice was steady.

Grounded.

But there was something under it now.

Something sharper.

Something that hadn’t been there before.

“Then who did?” she asked.

The question pressed in harder than it should have.

Because I had an answer.

Because I knew exactly who it was.

And I still couldn’t make myself say it.

My throat tightened, the words sitting there, waiting, but not moving.

“I don’t know,” I said.

It came out quieter this time.

Thinner.

Even I didn’t believe it.

She didn’t look away.

Didn’t let the silence take it.

“You’re lying,” she said.

Not accusing.

Not angry.

Just certain.

That somehow made it worse.

My chest tightened, something in me pulling inward like I was trying to protect something that was already exposed.

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

She didn’t raise her voice.

Didn’t push harder.

But she didn’t back down either.

That stopped me.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

Because she could see it.

I let out a slow breath, my shoulders dropping just slightly, like I didn’t have the energy to keep holding it all together anymore. “I don’t know how he would’ve found me,” I said.

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Before I could take them back.

Not everything.

But enough.

Maddie didn’t say anything right away.

I felt the shift.

The moment everything changed.

“Who?” she asked.

I stared straight ahead, my eyes fixed on the trees in front of us even though I wasn’t really seeing them. “Someone I knew before I came here.”

That wasn’t the whole truth.

But it wasn’t nothing either.

Her grip tightened slightly on the wheel, her fingers pressing into it like she needed something solid to hold onto. “Sadie.”

I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them again, the weight in my chest settling deeper instead of lifting. “It’s not supposed to be like this,” I said quietly. “He’s not supposed to be here.”

The words felt heavier once they were out.

Like they stayed in the space between us.

Like they changed something.

“Is he dangerous?” she asked.

I didn’t answer right away.

Because the answer wasn’t simple.

Because it wasn’t just yes or no.

Because it was everything in between.

I swallowed, my throat tight. “He doesn’t stop,” I said finally.

That was the truth.

The part that mattered.

The part that explained everything without saying it directly.

Maddie exhaled slowly, like she was taking that in, letting it settle before she responded. “Okay,” she said. “Then we handle it.”

I blinked, the word catching me off guard. “Handle it?”

“You’re not staying there,” she said again, firmer now. “You’re coming with me.”

“I don’t want to drag you into this.”

The words came out before I could think them through.

Before I could stop them.

“You’re not dragging me into anything,” she said. “I’m already in it.”

That landed harder than I expected.

Because she was right.

Because there was no separating it now.

Not after today.

I nodded slowly.

“Okay.”

She shifted the truck into gear, pulling away from the cabin without looking back.

I didn’t either.

I didn’t want to.

Because looking back would make it feel like I was leaving something behind.

And I knew I wasn’t.

The house felt different the second we walked in.

Warmer.

Louder.

Alive in a way the cabin hadn’t been.

The sound of movement, the faint hum of something running in the background, the simple presence of another person—it made the space feel grounded.

Safer.

But it didn’t take everything away.

Maddie tossed her keys onto the counter, the sound sharper than it should have been, then turned toward me. “Sit,” she said.

I didn’t argue.

Didn’t have the energy to.

I sat.

She moved around the kitchen like she needed something to do, grabbing a glass, filling it with water, then handing it to me without saying anything.

“Drink,” she added.

I took it, my fingers wrapping around the glass tighter than I meant them to. The coolness grounded me just enough to notice how off everything still felt.

She leaned back against the counter, her arms crossing, her eyes on me the entire time.

Not casually.

Not lightly.

“Start talking,” she said.

I let out a breath, my eyes dropping to the glass in my hands. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Try the part where someone was in your house,” she said.

Fair.

I nodded slightly, my throat tightening again. “His name is Derek.”

Saying it out loud made everything sharper.

More real.

Like it locked something into place that I couldn’t undo.

Maddie didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t react.

She just listened.

“We were together,” I said. “Before I moved here.”

“How long?”

“Too long.”

The words slipped out without thinking.

Without filtering.

She nodded once, like she understood more than I had said.

“Why’d you leave?” she asked.

That question stayed.

Longer.

Heavier.

Because that part mattered.

Because that part explained everything.

I hesitated, my fingers tightening slightly around the glass. “He doesn’t take no for an answer,” I said finally.

Maddie didn’t move.

But something in her shifted again.

More protective.

More alert.

“He’s been texting me,” I added. “Since I got here.”

That part hung heavier in the room.

“You didn’t block him?” she asked.

“I did,” I said. “He just… finds another way.”

Her jaw tightened slightly, her eyes dropping for a second before coming back to me. “Does he know you’re here?”

“I didn’t tell him,” I said.

But even as I said it—

we both knew that didn’t matter anymore.

My phone buzzed.

The sound cut through everything.

Sharp.

Too loud.

I froze.

Every part of me went still.

Maddie didn’t move.

Didn’t speak right away.

“Check it,” she said.

I didn’t want to.

Everything in me told me not to.

But I did.

Unknown number.

My chest tightened instantly.

I opened it.

You always run.

My breath caught.

My fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

Another message came through.

Doesn’t mean I won’t find you.

The room felt smaller.

Colder.

Like the air had shifted again.

I stared at the screen, reading the words over and over like they might change if I looked long enough.

They didn’t.

Maddie stepped closer, her voice quieter now. “What does it say?”

I swallowed, my throat tight. “It’s him.”

That was enough.

She didn’t need more.

Didn’t ask to see it.

“Okay,” she said, her voice steady again. “Then we deal with it.”

I looked up at her.

“How?”

She didn’t hesitate.

“We don’t let you be alone.”

That landed.

Hard.

Because it meant something had changed.

Something I couldn’t undo.

And for the first time—

I didn’t know if I felt safer.

Or more trapped.