Chapter 10 Sloane
SLOANE
Iwake up wrapped around Jax like a koala.
My leg is thrown over his hip, my arm across his chest, my face buried in the crook of his neck.
We’re in bed. I vaguely remember him carrying me here sometime after he warmed up, and the morning light filtering through the window is soft and gray.
The storm is still going, but it’s quieter now.
Less violent. I don’t move. Don’t want to disturb this moment.
Because last night changed something between us, and I’m terrified and exhilarated in equal measure.
When I saw him standing there in the entryway, covered in snow and ice, shaking so hard he could barely speak, my heart stopped. Actually stopped. And in that moment, I realized something that scared me more than Chett’s betrayal, more than being alone, more than anything.
I care about Jax Reid.
Not just ‘this is fun’ care. Not just ‘good sex’ care. Real, genuine, terrifying care. The kind where the thought of something happening to him makes my chest ache. The kind where seeing him hurt makes me want to fight the storm itself. The kind I swore I wouldn’t feel again.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Jax mumbles, his voice rough with sleep. His arm tightens around me, pulling me impossibly closer.
“How can you tell I’m thinking?”
“Your breathing changes. You get all tense.” His hand slides up my back, warm and soothing. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
I hesitate. We’ve been honest about the physical stuff, about the ‘fun’ we’re having. But this? This feels different. Bigger.
“Last night scared me,” I admit quietly.
His hand stills on my back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …”
“No, not like that.” I lift my head to look at him.
His hair is sticking up in about fifteen directions, there’s stubble darkening his jaw, and those hazel eyes are soft with concern.
“I mean ... when I saw you. When I realized you could have been hurt. It scared me how much I cared.” Something shifts in his expression.
Softens and intensifies at the same time.
“Sloane ...”
“I know we said this was just fun,” I continue, my heart racing.
“No strings, no expectations. Just two people stuck in a storm. But I don’t think I’m very good at casual, Jax.
I thought I could be, but …” He cuts me off with a kiss.
Not hungry or demanding like before. Tender.
Sweet. Devastating in its gentleness. When he pulls back, his hand comes up to cup my face.
“I’m not good at casual either,” he admits, his thumb stroking my cheek. “I tried to tell myself this was just helping you get over your ex. Just having fun while we waited out the storm. But Sloane ...” He takes a breath. “You’re not casual. Not to me.”
My heart does that stupid flipping thing, except it doesn’t feel stupid anymore. It feels right.
“What are we doing?” I whisper.
“I don’t know.” His eyes search mine. “But I know I don’t want to stop.”
“Even when the storm ends. Even when we must go back to real life?”
“Especially then.” He leans his forehead against mine. “I live two hours away, Sloane. That’s nothing. That’s easy. If you want ... if you want to try this. Really try.” The hope in his voice undoes me completely.
“I don’t know …” I tell him honestly, and I see something flicker in his eyes. Hurt, maybe. Or fear. “I want to, Jax, but …”
“I understand.”
“You do?” I’m surprised. He nods. “I’m worried that what we’ve created here is the blizzard talking.
Us getting caught up in something that feels amazing right now but falls apart when we’re back in the real world.
” I take a shaky breath. “I don’t want to lose myself again.
I did that with Chett. I made myself smaller and smaller until I didn’t even recognize who I was anymore.
And now, here I am, not long after leaving him, already caring for someone else. What does that say about me?”
“It says you’re human,” Jax says firmly. “It says you’re capable of moving forward. Of opening yourself up even after being hurt. That’s not weakness, Sloane. That’s strength.”
“Or stupidity.”
“Or bravery.” He kisses my forehead. “Look, I’m not asking you to have all the answers right now. I’m not asking you to move in with me, or marry me, or make any big decisions. I’m just asking ... can we see where this goes when we’re not snowed in?”
I want to say yes. Want to throw caution to the wind and just let myself fall completely. But the fear is still there, tight in my chest.
“Can I think about it?” I whisper. “Is that okay?”
Something in his expression softens. “Of course it’s okay. Take all the time you need.” He pulls me back against his chest, his arms wrapping around me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
We lay like that for a while, and slowly, the tension in my body eases. Maybe I don’t have to have all the answers right now. Maybe it’s okay to just be uncertain.
“The storm sounds like it’s calming down,” I observe eventually.
“Yeah. Probably won’t be long before the roads are clear.” His hand traces lazy patterns on my back. “What do you want to do today?”
“I don’t know. Something normal. Something that doesn’t involve life-altering decisions or emotional confessions.”
He chuckles. “I think I can manage that. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Pancakes?”
“You’re going to spoil me with all this cooking.”
“That’s the plan,” he says, and there’s something in his voice, something warm and promising, that makes my chest ache all over again.
After breakfast, we end up on the floor in front of the fire with an old, battered Monopoly set Jax found in a closet.
“I should warn you,” he says, counting out the money. “I take Monopoly very seriously.”
“Oh really?” I raise an eyebrow. “Are you one of those people who gets aggressive about Mayfair?”
“I’m one of those people who will bankrupt you without mercy and then make you watch while I build hotels on every property I own.”
“Wow. Sexy.”
He grins. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until you see my negotiation tactics.”
“Are you going to negotiate shirtless? Because that seems like cheating.”
“Everything’s fair in Monopoly and war, sweetheart.”
We play for two hours, and he wasn’t kidding about being competitive. He’s ruthless and strategic. When I try to negotiate a trade, he absolutely uses his attractiveness as leverage, leaning close, using that low voice, touching my hand as he moves his game piece.
“You’re a monster,” I tell him when he bankrupts me for the third time in a row.
“You love it.”
And the terrible thing is, I do. I love how playful he is. How he makes me laugh even when I’m losing. How he celebrates every little victory like it’s the Super Bowl.
We’re in the middle of our fourth game, and I’m actually winning this time when my phone rings. I glance at the screen and my stomach drops.
Mom.
“Are you okay?” Jax asks, noticing my expression.
“It’s my mom.” I stare at the phone like it’s a snake. “I haven’t talked to her since ... since everything happened.”
“You want me to give you privacy?”
I shake my head. “No. Stay.” I need him here. Need his solid presence.
I answer on the fourth ring. “Hi, Mom.”
“Sloane.” Her voice is tight with worry. “Oh, thank God. Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m fine. I’m at a cabin. Why?”
“Chett has been calling us nonstop. He says you’ve disappeared. He says he’s been trying to reach you for days, and you won’t answer your phone. He’s beside himself with worry.”
Of course he is. Chett is playing the concerned boyfriend card after what he did.
“I blocked his number, Mom.”
“Why would you? Sloane, what’s going on? Did you two have a fight? He mentioned something about a misunderstanding ...”
A misunderstanding. Like walking in on him fucking his assistant is just a miscommunication.
“Mom.” I close my eyes, gathering my courage. “The wedding is off.”
Silence. “What?”
“The wedding. It’s not happening. Chett and I are done.”
“Sloane, you can’t just … what happened? You two have been together for nine years. You can’t throw that away over one fight.”
“It’s not one fight.” My voice is shaking now. “I caught him cheating, Mom. With his assistant. In our apartment.”
Another silence, longer this time. Jax’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently.
“Oh, honey,” Mom says finally, and her voice has softened. “I’m so sorry. That must have been devastating.”
“It was.”
“But ...” Here it comes. I can hear the ‘but’ coming from a mile away. “Are you sure you can’t work through this? Couples therapy, maybe? Nine years is a long time, sweetheart. And everyone makes mistakes.”
“Mistakes?” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. “He made a choice, Mom. Multiple choices. To cheat. To lie. To blame me for it.”
“He blamed you?”
“Said I’d been distant. That I’d let myself go. That she made him feel wanted.”
“That’s …” She stops, gathering herself. “That’s not fair. That’s not right. But, Sloane, are you sure you’re thinking clearly? You’ve been under so much stress with work and wedding planning. Maybe you need some time to process before you make any permanent decisions.”
My chest tightens. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Even now, even knowing what Chett did, she’s suggesting I reconsider.
“I am thinking clearly, Mom. For the first time in a long time.”
“Where are you right now? Are you safe?”
“I’m safe. I rented a cabin to clear my head. Got caught in the storm.”
“Alone? You’re alone in a cabin during a blizzard?”
I glance at Jax, who’s watching me with concern. “Not exactly alone. Someone helped me. Made sure I was okay.”
“Who?”
“Just ... a friend.” The word feels inadequate for what Jax is, but I don’t know how else to describe him.
“A friend.” Mom’s voice has taken on a suspicious tone. “What kind of friend?”
“The kind who was there when I needed help.”
“Sloane ...” She sighs. “Please tell me you’re not doing anything rash. You’re vulnerable right now. Hurt. You’re not thinking straight.”
And there it is. The implication that I can’t be trusted to make my own decisions. That I’m too emotional, too broken to know what I want.
“I need to go, Mom.”
“Sloane, wait …”
“I’ll call you when I’m back in Denver. We can talk more then.”
“Your father and I love you. We just want what’s best for you.” She throws out to me.
“I know. I love you too. Bye, Mom.”
I hang up before she can say anything else and just sit there, staring at the phone in my hand.
“Are you okay?” Jax asks quietly.
“She wanted me to reconsider. To maybe try therapy with him. Like what he did is something we can just work through.”
“Maybe she’s worried about you.”
“I know. But it’s also ...” I set the phone down carefully. “It’s reality. My parents are practical people. Nine years is a long investment to them. They probably already told people about the wedding. Sent save-the-dates.”
“So?”
“So that’s who I am in the real world. The girl whose mom thinks she should give her cheating ex another chance. Who cares more about what people think than whether I’m actually happy.”
Jax takes my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. “You are not that girl. You’re the woman who walked away. Who chose herself. Who drove into a snowstorm alone because she needed space to figure out who she is without him. That takes fucking courage, Sloane.”
“Then why does it feel like I’m running away?”
“Because standing up for yourself always feels scary at first. But you’re not running away. You’re running toward something. Toward the life you actually want.”
I want to believe him. Want to believe that I’m being brave instead of cowardly. But the doubt is still there, worming its way through my chest.
“What if I don’t know what I want?” I whisper.
“Then you take time to figure it out. No pressure. No judgment.” His thumbs stroke my cheeks. “But, Sloane? Don’t let your mom’s opinion or anyone else’s make you doubt yourself. You know what happened. You know what you felt. Trust that.”
I lean forward, pressing my forehead against his. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not making me feel crazy. For just ... being here.”
“Always,” he says simply.
We sit like that for a long moment, the Monopoly game forgotten, the fire crackling beside us.
And slowly, the tightness in my chest eases.
Maybe I don’t have all the answers. Maybe I’m still confused, scared, and uncertain about everything.
But I know one thing for certain, whatever I decide about my future, it’s going to be my choice.
Not Chett’s. Not my mom’s. Mine.
And that has to be enough for now.