Chapter 34 Sloane
SLOANE
On Wednesday morning, I find Pops in the living room, exactly where I knew he’d be.
The hospital bed sits angled toward the window so he can watch the day happen without needing to be in it.
Sunlight spills across the armrest in a warm square, and he’s sitting in the middle of it like he belongs there—blanket over his lap, remote in his good hand, a baseball game playing on low volume, even though I’m pretty sure he hasn’t cared about baseball since Cameron was seven.
The wheelchair is parked beside him like a quiet warning.
He looks smaller than he used to, not in height—Pops will always look like Pops to me in that stubborn, built-like-a-coach way—but in the way his shoulders don’t sit as broad, the way his cheeks have hollowed out even though he’s been eating decently.
His face still droops slightly on the left side. Not dramatic. Just enough that it makes my chest ache when I catch it in a certain light.
He hears me before he sees me.
“Hey, kiddo,” he says, voice warm.
My throat tightens on impact.
“Hey,” I reply, trying to sound normal and landing somewhere close. I cross the room and lean down carefully—because everything about him feels breakable lately—and press a kiss to his forehead.
He smells like laundry detergent and the faintest hint of peppermint from the mints he keeps on the side table, the ones he offers people like it’s a habit and not a comfort.
“How you feeling?” I ask.
Pops gives me a look. “You gonna let me answer honestly?”
I huff. “No.”
He smiles, and even that costs him a little—his mouth pulls unevenly, and for a second, I hate the universe so much I can taste it.
“I’m all right,” he says anyway. “I’ve been worse.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “That’s the most annoying thing about you.”
Pops chuckles and taps the armrest twice like he’s calling a play. “Any plans today?”
That’s when I notice it. The energy in the house feels…off.
Not bad.
Not heavy.
Just strange. Like someone’s moved furniture in a room I know by heart.
And then I hear it—voices in the kitchen, too loud to be Cameron’s, too bright to belong to the last few weeks.
Laughter. Actual laughter.
My head snaps toward the sound.
Pops watches my reaction like he’s amused.
“What did you do?” I ask suspiciously.
Pops lifts a brow. “What makes you think I did anything?”
“Because you’re smiling like you just rigged something.”
He coughs out a laugh. “Maybe I did.”
Before I can press him, Jade appears in the hallway like a tornado in leggings. She’s holding a grocery bag in one hand and a plastic container in the other, and she freezes when she sees me like she just got caught sneaking in contraband.
“Oh,” she says too brightly. “Heyyyyy!”
Blakely pops up behind her, hair in a high ponytail, cheeks flushed like she’s been moving fast. She gives me a smile that’s sweet but…guilty.
Both of them look like they’re trying very hard not to look at me.
My eyes narrow. “Why are you here?”
Jade blinks rapidly. “To…exist.”
“To exist?” I repeat flatly.
Blakely nods too quickly. “Yes. To exist. Also to bring Pops joy. After all, I am the light of his life and all that.”
“I’m right here, Blakely,” Pops says, dryly. “And lying is a sin last I checked.”
I turn back to them, suspicion sharpening. “Okay. Why are you really here?”
Jade lets out a dramatic sigh. “Sloane, don’t do that thing where you interrogate us like you’re a detective in a crime show.”
“That’s because you look guilty as shit,” I say.
Blakely’s smile wobbles. “We’re not criminals.”
Pops makes a little amused sound. “Debatable.”
Jade shoots him a grin. “Coach, you’re supposed to be on our side.”
Pops shrugs like he has no allegiance.
My stomach flips in that annoying way it does lately, like I can feel the world shifting around me, and I don’t know which direction is safe.
I look back at Pops. “I’m going to—”
“You’re going,” Jade interrupts too quickly, waving a hand at me like she’s shooing a fly. “Yes. You’re going. Go put on shoes.”
I blink. “What?”
Blakely steps forward, tone gentle but firm. “Sloane. Go outside. It would be so good for you.”
“Why?”
Jade smiles like she’s trying to be normal and absolutely failing. “Because…fresh air. Vitamin D. Sunlight. You’re pale.”
I stare at her. “I play basketball, and we live in California.”
“You’re pale emotionally,” Jade says, and Blakely makes a strangled noise like she’s trying not to laugh.
My gaze flicks between them, then back to Pops, who is watching this entire exchange like it’s the best entertainment he’s had in weeks.
“Pops,” I say slowly. “What is happening?”
Pops lifts his brows, innocent. “Your friends are visiting. You’re leaving the house. Seems pretty straightforward.”
I step closer to him, lowering my voice so they can’t hear the tremor in it.
“I don’t like surprises,” I whisper.
Pops’s expression softens. He reaches out with his good hand and catches my wrist, his grip weaker than it used to be but still warm. Still Pops.
“I know,” he says quietly. “But sometimes surprises are good.”
My throat tightens.
I swallow hard, then force my voice to be steadier. “Where am I going?”
Pops’s eyes hold mine. “Out.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He smiles faintly. “It’s the only one you need.”
I stand there, frozen, because leaving the house feels like stepping away from a cliff edge. Like if I turn my back on him, something will happen, and I won’t be here to catch it.
Pops must see it on my face, because his grip tightens a fraction, and he says it—simple, steady, like he’s giving me permission to breathe.
“I’m not going anywhere, kiddo.” His voice is warm. Certain. “Have fun. I love you.”
For a second, everything in me goes quiet.
No buzzing panic. No checklist. No scanning for symptoms.
Just that sentence.
I swallow. My vision blurs. I blink hard.
“I love you too,” I manage, voice thick.
Pops gives my wrist a gentle squeeze, like that’s enough emotion for one morning. “Go.”
Jade clears her throat loudly behind me. “Yes. Go. Before I physically carry you outside.”
I straighten slowly, smoothing my hands over my leggings like that will smooth out the knot in my chest.
I lean down again and kiss Pops’s temple this time, careful and slow, like I can memorize him with my mouth.
“I’ll be back later,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says softly. “Now, go live a little.”
I step back.
Jade and Blakely practically herd me toward the front door like I’m a reluctant toddler.
As soon as I’m in the entryway, Jade shoves my sneakers at me.
“Put those on,” she orders.
“Are you insane?” I ask, but my voice is softer now, less sharp.
Blakely opens the door before I can stall.
Sunlight spills in, warm and bright—California doing what it does best, refusing to match anyone’s mood.
I step outside, and the door closes behind me with a soft click.
For a second, I just stand there on the front porch, wincing at the day as if it’s too loud.
Then I see him.
Logan is leaning against his truck at the curb like he’s trying to look casual and failing.
In one hand, he’s holding a clear cup with condensation beading down the sides.
He pushes off the truck when he sees me, and the smile that spreads across his mouth is small, restrained—like he’s trying not to scare me with how much he wants this to be good.
“Hey,” he says.
I stop at the end of the walkway, squinting at him like my suspicion came back online.
“What is this?” I ask.
Logan lifts the drink slightly. “A bribe.”
My mouth twitches. “To do what?”
“To get you in the truck,” he says, eyes glinting behind the sunglasses. “Voluntarily. Preferably without kicking and screaming.”
I fold my arms. “Are you kidnapping me?”
Logan’s smile deepens. “It’s only kidnapping if you don’t get caffeine first.”
I shake my head, but my heart does that stupid flip again.
He walks toward me slowly, stopping close enough that I can smell him—clean soap, a hint of something spicy, the warmth of him in the sun.
He holds out the latte like it’s an offering.
“Iced vanilla,” he says. “Cold foam. No weird surprises.”
My favorite.
My throat tightens unexpectedly, because it’s such a simple thing.
And it’s also…proof.
That he notices. That he remembers. That he’s been paying attention even while everything is falling apart.
I take it, fingers brushing his for a second.
“At the party, you said you wanted a normal day.” Logan’s voice softens. “I can’t make everything bad go away, but I wanted to give you as normal of a day as I could. Jade and Blakely insisted on helping, which is how they ended up here.”
I lift a brow. “And you listened to them.”
He gives me a look. “I’m not an idiot. They’re terrifying.”
That pulls a laugh out of me before I can stop it—quick, surprised, almost rusty.
Logan’s smile shifts, like hearing me laugh does something to him.
“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the passenger side. “Day date. No pressure. We can go home whenever you want. If you hate it, you can blame your friends.”
I stare at him over the rim of the cup, my chest tight and full at the same time.
“Where are we going?” I ask quietly.
Logan’s mouth curves. “You’ll see.”
I should argue.
I should demand details.
I should keep control of every variable like I always do.
But Pops’s voice echoes in my head.
Have fun.
So I take a breath that feels like stepping off a ledge.
And I nod.
“Okay,” I say.
Logan’s relief is instant. His shoulders drop slightly, like he didn’t realize how hard he’d been holding himself together.
He opens the passenger door for me like he’s trying to be old-fashioned on purpose. Like he wants this to feel different.
I slide into the seat, clutching the latte like it’s a lifeline.
Logan shuts the door gently, then jogs around the front of the truck.
As he climbs in, he glances at me, that familiar teasing edge returning like it’s something he’s offering.
“You ready?” he asks.
I take a sip. Perfection.
I swallow, then look at him.
“No,” I say honestly. “But I’m coming anyway.”
Logan’s smirk softens into something warmer.
“Good,” he murmurs, and then he pulls away from the curb, the truck rolling forward into the bright, ordinary day.
And for the first time in a long time—
I let myself go.