When Sadie had moved away, not long after she had finished grad school, Bill had been relieved - grateful - to have such a sweet temptation removed from his life...or at least kept at arms length while he tried to work out the mess that was his marriage.

Though him and his wife had decided to separate, there was a part of him that had still wanted to love Barb, wanted to make their marriage work. But he had quickly come to the uncomfortable conclusion that perhaps the problem was no longer fixable, and nothing he could do would ever change them. They had struggled for a long time. Perhaps too long.

Then Bev had gone missing, and he had thought only of being there for his wife.

But she seemed to think of little else except her own anger.

Filling his chest with another deep breath, Bill let it out slowly, checking the clock on his dashboard and calculating how much longer until he reached his destination.

Now...now he wished Sadie did not live quite so far away. It was only a forty minute drive, but it was late, and he was so so tired.

His marriage was over. Really over. Completely over. Bill didn't think he had truly even seen that until Barb herself had spoken those words on the dusty old porch of her spiteful, hate-filled childhood home. She had always had a way of seeing things in a harsh, biting clarity before he ever could.

Then she'd sent him off with their hurting daughter and the expression she knew was guaranteed to shred his heart - her own special brand of scorn mixed with hurt and disdain. As if he had purposely done something to cause her a grievous wound and she both hated him and pitied him for his unforgivable idiocy.

The truth was he had never wanted to hurt her, never meant to. But one could only be pushed so many times... Even if she would never see it. He had tried all he could.

He did regain a modicum hope, for Jean at least, when to his surprise, Barb had shown up at his place back in Colorado not even a day after he had left with their daughter. After an apology to Jean, and a long hug (and not a word to him) Jean had agreed to go back home with her mother.

Bill was grateful for that. He did not think he could bear for Barb to loose her, as well. Not now. They had a bond; Barb loved her daughter even if she had no idea how to show it. He desperately hoped they would find some way to work it out.

So finally he was alone again. It felt odd after so many days with drama and heartbreak and chaos, to sit in comfort and peace, alone with his own mind. He felt uncomfortable, empty and unsure.

And he thought of her. The woman he'd met two years ago, a grad student in one of his classes. Bright and quick to smile. Beautiful and happy. But almost 19 years younger than himself. For a long time he'd resisted, avoided her completely if he had too. He hated that cliche of a mid-life crisis, but she had never seemed to care at all.

Bill spent more than an hour arguing with himself, hating himself and them forgiving himself, picking up his phone and then setting it back down. He knew he was not without blame. He hadn't cheated on Barb, not physically, not before they separated, but he had thought about it. Then he had used his time with Sadie to escape his problems. He had used her, no matter how much he liked her or how honest his intentions were, to ease his own pain.

Home alone now, truly all alone, he found himself only able to think of her. The way she kissed him like she didn't mind if she never breathed again. The way she wrapped her arms around him like nothing could ever make her let go. And the way she had looked, nodding with a forced, watery smile, as he told her he wanted to try and make his marriage work one more time.

If he was going to make it right, make something right, now was his chance, and he didn't want to sit and let it pass him by if there was any hope.

Sadie was good, and kind. She deserved an honest conversation and he wanted nothing more than just to be with her, in her arms right now.

When Bill pulled up, the little house was dark except for the flickering light on the porch. He parked on the opposite side of the quiet street and locked his car. It was late, almost midnight. She knew he was coming, so he knew she was up, probably in her kitchen.

Bill went through the gate at the side of the house so he could circle around the back. A path he'd taken once or twice before, but it felt different this time. Dim yellow light spilled from the windows in the back to the yard, and he rapped lightly on the back door to the kitchen before opening it quietly.

Sadie looked up from a magazine on the table as he came in, her eyes lighting and he felt his heart thud hard in his chest as if starting to repair at the mere sight of her. "Hello."

"Hey." She smiled, standing to hug him, and then turned to the stove. "Let me make some tea, yeah?"

"Sure." He sat down at her table and he watched her as she stood on her tip toes to pull a pan from the cupboard and then set some water to boil. Her feet were bare, her legs bare beneath a pair of cotton shorts. She had a worn tank top on, her favorite he remembered, and a button down shirt over that. It hung off her shoulders, too large for her and he realized it was one of his. He wanted to curl his fingers around the loose edges, pull her to him and strip the shirt off her. Haul her into his lap and never let go.

But he owed her more than that, so he kept the tempting thought to himself, for now, taking a seat at her table.

When she'd turned the stove on, she faced him, studying him for a moment before she spoke. She leaned against the counter. "How'd it go?"

"Oh Sade," he sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. "It was an absolute nightmare. Bev is - Bev is gone. And it's over. For good."

He'd dropped his head to his hands overwhelmed with the weight of emotion, but he heard her take a step toward him and he looked up again to see her. The light in the room was dim and soft, but it made her skin glow. Her long brown hair was tied back, swept over one shoulder and he longed to bury his face in it but he didn't know if the gesture would be welcome.

Still, her soft brown eyes sparked with sympathy, and she reached for him. "I'm so sorry, Bill. I'm sorry. I know what your family means to you."

They were family, even if his marriage was over, and he cared about them all. The relief of her understanding of this was like a breath of fresh air when he'd been trapped under water for so long.

Sadie ran her fingers through his hair and Bill gave in to every emotion he was feeling, accepting them. She was standing right in front of him now and he reached for her, his hands sliding around her hips as she moved closer.

Slowly he closed his eyes and pressed his cheek to her stomach just below her breasts and she cradled him, running her hands over his shoulders and through his hair and he breathed, slow measured breaths, willing the stress and chaos to dissipate from within the comfort of her arms.

They stayed like that for a long while.

"Sadie," he finally murmured, shifting to wrap his arms tightly around her waist "I'm sorry."

He was. And he wanted to make it up to her.