Chapter 14 Sloane
SLOANE
Day one of the girls’ trip starts with wine and ends with more wine.
The cabin I originally booked is bigger than Jax’s emergency shelter with nicer and newer appliances, better furniture, and a gigantic stone fireplace, not the small one we had.
It should feel like an upgrade. Instead, it just feels empty.
“Okay,” Riley announces, setting three wine glasses on the coffee table.
“Ground rules for this week. One: No contact with Chett. I don’t care if he texts, calls, or sends smoke signals.
We ignore him. Two: No wallowing. We process, we vent, we plan, but we don’t wallow.
Three: We actually leave this cabin at some point because I didn’t drive hours to stare at wood paneling. ”
“I like the wood paneling,” I mumble.
“You’re already breaking rule two.” Riley hands me a glass. “Drink.”
Maggie settles onto the couch beside me. “How are you really doing? And don’t say fine.”
“I don’t know.” I take a large gulp of wine. “I just ... I feel like my entire life imploded in the span of a couple of weeks. Two weeks ago, I was engaged. I had a plan. Now I don’t have anything.”
“You have us,” Riley says firmly.
“Riley’s right,” Maggie adds softly. “I know this is scary. But you’re free now. You get to figure out who you are without him telling you who to be.”
“I just wish ...” I trail off, not sure how to finish.
“You wish what?” Riley prompts.
“I wish I had his number.”
Both of them look confused.
“Jax’s number,” I clarify. “We never ... we never actually exchanged numbers. It was an emergency rescue situation. He had my info from the cabin registry, but I never got his personal number. And now he’s gone and I can’t ...” My voice cracks. “I can’t even reach out if I want to.”
Riley’s eyes light up. “I can find him. Look, I already found his socials.”
“No.” I shake my head firmly. “If he wanted me to have his number, he would have given it to me before he left. He made his choice.”
“He told you to process everything,” Maggie points out. “Maybe he’s just giving you space.”
“Babe, you also told him you were leaving to go on a girls’ trip, literally ten minutes after your ex showed up and caused a scene. Maybe he thought you needed an out.”
“Or maybe he realized I’m a disaster and wanted nothing to do with my mess of a life.” I cry.
“Or …” Maggie says gently, “maybe you should stop catastrophizing and just ... breathe. You’ve been through a lot. Give yourself time before you make any decisions about anything.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. But it doesn’t make the ache in my chest any easier to bear.
Day three, and I can’t stop talking about him.
“The thing is,” I say, pacing the cabin while Riley and Maggie watch from the couch, “he had this very specific way of making sandwiches. Like, there was a correct order. Meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato, condiments. In that exact order. And if you suggested putting condiments on both pieces of bread, he looked at you like you’d personally offended him. ”
“That’s ... weirdly endearing,” Riley says.
“It is, right? And he was so competitive about Monopoly. Like, ruthlessly competitive. He bankrupted me three times before I finally beat him, and when I did, he acted all offended, but I could tell he was proud of me.”
“Sloane,” Maggie says carefully. “You’ve been talking about him for twenty minutes.”
“Have I?” I stop pacing. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, but tell us more,” Riley says.
So, I do. I tell them about the farm he inherited from his grandparents.
About the twenty acres of woods and the creek where he fishes in the summer.
About the old farmhouse with good bones that needs work.
About his five brothers, his parents, and his grandmother, who terrorizes everyone.
I tell them about watching Christmas movies together.
About how his grandmother got him into them and how he genuinely loves the cheesy, predictable plots.
About how safe I felt curled up against him on the couch, just existing together.
“You really fell for him,” Maggie observes quietly.
“In three days,” I say, laughing bitterly. “I fell for a guy I knew for three days. That’s insane, right?”
“Love doesn’t follow a timeline,” Riley says with uncharacteristic seriousness. “Sometimes you just know.”
“How can I trust my own judgment when I wasted nine years on Chett? When I couldn’t see what was right in front of me?”
“Because Jax isn’t Chett,” Riley says firmly. “From everything you’ve told us, and there’s been a lot, he’s the opposite of Chett. He encouraged you. He listened. He made you feel seen. Chett made you feel small. There’s a difference.”
“And what if I’m just rebounding? What if I just latched onto the first guy who was nice to me after Chett?”
“Were you attracted to Chett when you first met him?” Maggie asks.
“Yes, but ...”
“Did he make you laugh?”
“Sometimes …”
“Did he make you feel safe? Protected?”
I open my mouth to answer, then close it. Because the truth is, no. Chett never made me feel those things. Not even at the beginning.
“Exactly,” Maggie says softly. “This isn’t a rebound, Sloane. This is you finally experiencing what a healthy connection feels like.”
The tears come then, hot and fast. “Then why did he leave? Why did he give up so easily?”
“Because he’s a good guy. He put your needs first, over his,” Riley states.
This makes me burst out crying even more.
Day five, and Chett won’t stop trying to contact me.
He’s tried texting from different numbers. He’s emailed. He’s sent messages through Instagram, Facebook, even LinkedIn.
“Who uses LinkedIn for relationship drama?” Riley demands, reading the latest message over my shoulder. “This is a professional networking site, you absolute walnut!”
The messages range from apologetic to angry to pleading.
CHETT: Baby, please just talk to me. I miss you so much.
CHETT: This is ridiculous. You’re throwing away our entire future. It was a mistake, Sloane, a fucking mistake. You’re not perfect either.
CHETT: I talked to your mom. She agrees you need to speak to me.
That one makes me see red. “He talked to my mom?”
“Block him,” Maggie says immediately. “On everything. And maybe we should talk to mom.”
Right. Mom.
She’s called six times since the cabin incident. I’ve answered twice, and both conversations ended with me in tears and her suggesting I’m making a mistake.
“She’s making this harder for you,” Maggie counters. “You need support right now, not judgment.”
“She thinks I’m throwing away nine years over one silly mistake.” I groan.
“It wasn’t one mistake,” Riley snaps. “It was a pattern of disrespect and manipulation that culminated in him fucking his assistant. That’s not a mistake. That’s a choice. Multiple choices.”
“I know that. But she keeps saying things like ‘relationships take work’ and ‘nobody’s perfect’ and I start to doubt myself.”
“Don’t,” Maggie says firmly. “Don’t let her make you doubt yourself. You caught him cheating. That’s not something you work through. That’s something you walk away from.”
I nod, wiping my eyes. “You’re right. You’re both right.”
“Of course we are,” Riley says. “We’re always right. It’s our thing.”
Day seven, and Riley forces me to watch a Christmas movie.
“It’s tradition!” she insists when I try to protest. “You love Christmas movies!”
“I loved them with Jax,” I mutter, but I let her put on some movie about a baker and a Christmas tree farmer.
Five minutes in, I’m crying.
“What’s wrong?” Maggie asks, immediately concerned. “Do you hate it? We can turn it off.”
“No, it’s not that.” I wipe at my tears, frustrated with myself. “It’s just ... this was our thing. Me and Jax. We watched these together. And he actually loved them, you know? He didn’t just tolerate them for me. He genuinely enjoyed the cheesy plots and the predictable endings.”
“Oh, Sloane,” Riley says softly. “This is kind of pathetic.”
Maggie gasps, and I look at my best friend.
Then I burst out laughing because it is. I’m pathetic.
“I’m sorry, guys.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Maggie tells me, while glaring at Riley.
“Hey, sometimes you need to tell your friend when she’s being a bit much.”
“I am, aren’t I?” I sigh.
“We still love you,” Maggie adds.
“And Jax does sound awesome, so we get it. Plus, losing good dick is a good reason to cry,” Riley jokes.
“I miss him.” I sigh. “I don’t even have the right to miss him because we’re practically strangers. People don’t fall for someone in a couple of days.”
“Some people do,” Maggie says gently.
“You think he’s as miserable?” I ask
“From everything you’ve told us. I think he is,” Riley says.
We sit in silence for a while, the movie playing in the background forgotten. Finally, Riley speaks up.
“Okay, new plan. Tomorrow, we’re going into town.”
I look at her like she’s crazy. “What? Why?”
“Because you’ve been in this cabin for a week and you’re driving yourself insane. We need food, we need supplies, and you need to see something other than these four walls.”
“I don’t want to go into town.” I groan.
“Too bad. We’re going.” Riley’s tone brooks no argument. “We’ll get dinner at a bar, walk around a little, maybe do some shopping. Normal human activities.”
“Fine.” I grizzle. “You’re right. We should go out.”
Day eight dawns cold and clear. The storm that trapped me with Jax is long gone, replaced by brilliant blue skies and sunshine that makes the snow sparkle.
“Come on,” Riley says, physically dragging me out of bed, where I have been festering away all day. “We’re doing this. Put on something cute.”
“Why does it need to be cute? We’re just going to a bar.”
“Because you need to remember you’re a catch. That you’re hot and desirable and men would be lucky to have you,” Riley states.
“I don’t want men to notice me.”
“I want men to notice me.” Riley smirks.
“Do it for yourself,” Maggie adds.
I sigh but comply, digging through my bag for jeans that fit and a sweater that isn’t covered in wine stains. I even put on makeup, just a little, but more than I’ve bothered with in weeks.
When I emerge from the bedroom, Riley wolf whistles. “There she is.”
I roll my eyes.
“You look great,” Maggie adds. “Now, let’s go before you change your mind.”
The drive into town takes twenty minutes. It’s a small mountain town, the kind with one main street lined with local shops and restaurants. Charming in that way small towns are.
“There,” Riley points to a bar called The Antler. “That looks promising.”
“It looks like every other mountain town bar,” I observe.
“Exactly. Which means the food will be good and the beer will be cold. Come on.”
I follow them inside, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in my stomach. It’s a bar. Just dinner. Nothing to worry about.
We’re halfway to a table when I hear it. A familiar laugh. Deep and rich, and the sound makes my entire body freeze.
No.
No, it can’t be.
I turn slowly, and there, at a corner table surrounded by what must be his brothers, is Jax.
He looks tired. There are shadows under his eyes. And when he laughs at something one of his brothers says, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
He looks miserable.
And then he sees me.
Our eyes lock across the crowded bar, and everything else fades away. The noise, the people, Riley and Maggie beside me. All of it disappears. It’s just him and me and the week of silence between us.
He stands up slowly, and I can see his brothers turning to look at what caught his attention. Can see the exact moment they realize who I am.
“Well,” Riley says quietly beside me. “This just got interesting.”