Chapter Nineteen
Twelve years ago…
Sloane paused outside her mom’s bedroom. Her mom was on the phone. Her voice was muffled, but Sloane made out “Where were you?” Sloane’s dad had promised to stop by, since Donovan and Shana were in town for Thanksgiving. The sun had set without an appearance. With a sigh, Sloane continued on her way. Her destination was never more important.
A few minutes later, the door behind her creaked open. She slid her pilfered goods to the side away from the moonlight, then collapsed in relief when she saw it was August. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he said. “You look guilty. What’s up?”
She held up the silver tin. “I’m eating a whole pie by myself.”
The side of his mouth tilted up. “Didn’t your mom tell you to save some for guests?”
“Yes, but I needed it. Y’all don’t.”
He nodded. She waved him over and held her breath as he settled next to her on the first step of the back porch. This was the first time they were alone together in person. She would not freak out. Hopefully. “What are you doing out here?”
“Didn’t feel like sleeping.”
She nodded in understanding. A restlessness she couldn’t shake thrummed through her veins. “Can I ask you something?”
August clasped his hands together between his bent knees and sighed. “Let me guess. You want to know why I’m here celebrating Thanksgiving with the Dells instead of with my own father?”
“Yeah.”
“My dad is off being the great Dale Hodges, celebrated chef. Thanksgiving isn’t a time for family. It’s a time to build his reputation.” He shrugged, like he didn’t care, but even the shadows created by the moonlight couldn’t hide the sadness that filled his eyes.
“I’m sorry. Does he come to see you play?”
“No. Football isn’t really his speed.”
And that hurt him. Which hurt her. “I’m sorry he’s not the parent you deserve.”
August shrugged. “It is what it is. Coach gave us a few days off and your brother insisted I come home with him.”
Sloane’s stomach cramped, but she couldn’t leave the most obvious question unasked. “And your girlfriend?”
“She’s with her mom. It’s not my place to talk about it, but it’s a volatile situation. I wouldn’t have been welcome.”
“Well, you’re welcome here.” So very, very welcome. Crushes were the worst.
“Thanks.”
She had one more pressing question. “Why didn’t you tell Donovan we talk about stuff other than calculus?”
“I didn’t know if you wanted me to,” he said, his soulful gaze never wavering. “Privacy is important.”
She stared at him with wide eyes. “Wow. Thank you.”
His shoulder lifted. Clearly he was uncomfortable with compliments. Sloane bit her lip. She’d had no idea how attractive humility was until that very moment.
“Enough about me,” he said. “What brought you out here?”
Sloane leaned back against the post and stared up at the night sky. “I don’t know. Trying to figure out my future. Do I stay close to home or go across the country for college? When will my mom stop putting on a fake front and admit she’s not getting the financial help she’s supposed to get from my dad?” She shrugged. “My siblings are lucky. They don’t live here anymore. It’s just me. She tries to hide it from me, but she worries about the bills that never stop coming.”
“That’s a lot.”
She shrugged again. Like it was that easy to reconcile her feelings. “It is what it is.”
“Such wise words.”
“Shut up, MOTY.” Laughing, she reached out to push him. Her hand landed on his chest, right on top of his heart. His T-shirt offered little resistance to the warmth underneath. A fierce heat traveled up her arm. The urge to curl her fingers around the fabric and bring him closer surged inside her. Her breath caught. They were so close on the small porch, knees almost touching. Her movement had brought her closer. Their mouths were only inches apart. His lips had parted. Her breath caught. That look in his eyes… like he could feel it too.
He laughed, though it sounded forced. “Only if I can have some pie.”
She dropped her hand. “Right! Yes. Sorry, I should have offered you some. It’s really good. My mom did her thing.” She stuffed some in her mouth to stop her rambling and thrust the pan at him. He cut off a slice with the knife and popped the dessert into his mouth. She was no longer hungry for pie. She stared, rapturously, as he chewed, and the pie slid down his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. She wanted to lick it so very, very bad.
August swallowed. “This pie is fantastic.”
And he had a girlfriend. Time to act like she had some sense. “I know, right! Everyone is always debating pecan pie or sweet potato pie for Thanksgiving. They can have it. Give me my lemon meringue and I’m a happy camper. My mom always makes me one for holidays and my birthday.”
“Your mom is the best.”
“She is. My dad, on the other hand.” She sighed. “He tries, but addiction is hard to break.”
“I get it about not-great dads.” He looked at her like no one ever had. Like he really saw her.
“Is that how you and Donovan bonded?”
His mouth curved upward. “Something like that. As for college, do what’s best for you.”
She nodded. “Thanks for the reminder.” She took a bite of pie. “This pie makes everything better. Eat it with me so I can lie convincingly to my mother when she asks about it tomorrow.”
“You’re going to throw me under the bus, you mean.”
“It sounds so harsh when you put it that way.”
He side-eyed her. “Does it?”
Sloane laughed again. He always made her laugh. And he was so, so handsome. She looked her fill, but she didn’t touch. “Just eat it!”
“Your wish is my command.”