Chapter 17 Sloane
SLOANE
Wednesday night, the night before Thanksgiving, I’m lying in Riley’s guest room staring at the ceiling when my phone lights up.
JAX: Can’t sleep?
SLOANE: How did you know?
JAX: You just liked an Instagram post from 2022. Figured you were scrolling at 1am instead of sleeping.
SLOANE: Busted.
JAX: What’s got you up?
SLOANE: Thinking about tomorrow. Family stuff.
JAX: Nervous?
SLOANE: A little. Things have been weird with my parents since everything happened. Don’t know what to expect.
JAX: Whatever happens, you’ve got this. You’re stronger than you think.
SLOANE: Don’t feel strong.
JAX: You left a nine-year relationship that was killing you. You’re rebuilding your entire life. You’re doing the hard work in therapy. That’s strength, Sloane. That’s fucking courage.
Tears prick my eyes.
SLOANE: Needed to hear that.
JAX: Just the truth. And hey, if it gets overwhelming tomorrow, you know where to find me. Standing invitation.
SLOANE: Your family wouldn’t mind a stranger showing up?
JAX: You’re not a stranger. My grandmother would try to feed you until you explode, and my brothers would embarrass me, but it would be chaos in the best way.
SLOANE: That sounds nice actually.
JAX: So, come. After your family thing. Or instead of it. Whatever you need.
SLOANE: I’ll think about it.
JAX: Good. Now get some sleep. You need to be rested for battle tomorrow.
SLOANE: Battle?
JAX: Family holidays are always battles. But you’re going to win.
I smile despite my anxiety.
SLOANE: Goodnight, Jax.
JAX: Goodnight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.
I set my phone down and close my eyes.
Tomorrow is just Thanksgiving. Just family. Nothing to worry about. So why can’t I shake this feeling of dread?
Thanksgiving morning.
Cold. Clear. Beautiful. I wake up with that nervous energy like something’s about to happen, but I don’t know what.
“You look like you’re going to your execution,” Riley observes over coffee.
“It’s just Thanksgiving.” I try to tell myself.
“You said your mom was weird on the phone, though.” Riley looks at me with concern.
“Holiday stress. She always gets like this.” I shrug.
“Probably.” Riley doesn’t sound convinced. “Text me if you need an escape plan. I’ll fake an emergency.”
“I’ll be fine,” I reassure her.
“Famous last words.” She hugs me. “Be brave. And remember, you can leave at any time. You don’t owe them anything.”
“They’re my family.”
“Sometimes family hurts us the most.” She pulls back, looking serious. “Promise me you’ll put yourself first.”
“I promise.”
I pick up Maggie on the way. She’s quiet, fidgeting with her phone.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, just ... weird feeling about today.”
“Me too. Probably nothing, though.”
“Right. Probably nothing,” she says.
Neither of us sounds convinced.
We pull up at two o’clock exactly. The driveway’s empty except for Dad’s car. Good. Just family.
I grab the wine. Maggie and I head to the door.
“Ready?” she asks.
“As I’ll ever be.” She squeezes my hand, then opens the door.
And my entire world tilts.
Chett.
“Happy Thanksgiving.” He smiles.
“What the fuck?” Maggie gasps.
“Sloane!” Mom appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s dressed up. Hair perfect. Makeup flawless. Like this is a photo shoot instead of a family dinner. “Oh, honey, you look thin. Are you eating? Come in, it’s freezing outside.”
I can’t speak. Can’t move. Can only stare at Chett, looking at me like he’s won the lottery. But I let my mother usher me into my childhood home.
“Surprise.” He grins, that charming smile I used to love, plastered across his face. “Your mom thought it would be nice for us to spend the holiday together. As a family.”
“We can go anytime,” Maggie whispers, not letting go of my hand.
Anger bubbles to the surface. I can’t believe my own family would do this to me, on Thanksgiving.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” The words explode out of me.
“Sloane!” Mom gasps. “Language!”
I’m pointing now, my hand shaking. “What the actual fuck is he doing in this house?”
“Your mother invited me,” Chett says smoothly. He’s wearing the blue sweater I bought him last Christmas. The one that brings out his eyes. He planned this. He fucking planned this. “She thought we should talk. Work things out. The holidays are about family.”
“Work things out?” I laugh, but it sounds slightly unhinged. “We broke up. You cheated on me. There’s nothing to work out.”
“Sloane,” Dad says from his chair, his tone doing that disappointed-father thing. “It’s Thanksgiving. Can we not do this now?”
“Not do what? Acknowledge that my ex-fiancé is in your home like he belongs here?”
“He does belong here,” Mom says, and there’s something defensive in her voice. “Chett has been part of this family for nine years. We can’t just throw that away because you two had a fight.”
“A fight?” My voice is getting louder. I can’t help it. “He fucked his assistant! On our kitchen counter! That’s not a fight, that’s a dealbreaker!”
Mom makes a strangled sound. “Sloane Marie, we do not use that language in this house.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have invited my cheating ex to Thanksgiving!” I scream at her.
I feel Maggie’s hand on my arm. “Sloane …”
I spin to face her. “Did you know about this?”
“No!” Her eyes are wide. “I swear I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t want to tell you because you wouldn’t have come,” my mother states.
“Of course I wouldn’t have come. Because this is an ambush. This is manipulation.” I’m yelling now.
“It’s not manipulation,” Mom insists. “It’s an intervention. Sweetheart, you’re not thinking clearly. You’re making rash decisions. We’re just trying to help you see reason.”
“Reason?” I’m shaking. With rage. With hurt. With the betrayal of it all. “The reasonable thing was leaving a man who cheated on me.”
“It was one mistake,” Chett says, stepping closer. I step back. “One mistake in nine years, Sloane. You can’t just throw away everything we built over one mistake.”
“Stop calling it a mistake. You kept making that mistake for six months,” I yell at him.
“I know I messed up.” His voice shifts, goes soft and pleading. The voice he used to use when he wanted something. “But, baby, I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I know you love me too.”
“I don’t.” The words come out flat. Final. “I don’t love you, Chett. I hate you.”
“You don’t mean that.” He moves closer again. Too close. I can smell his cologne. The expensive kind he only wears for special occasions. “You’re just hurt. I get it. I hurt you. But we can work through this. Couples therapy, like your mom suggested.”
“You talked to my mom about couples therapy?” I look at her. “You’ve been talking to him? Coordinating with him?”
Mom has the grace to look uncomfortable. “He called us. He was worried about you. We were all worried about you.”
“Because I left him?”
“Because you’ve been acting erratically,” Dad chimes in. “Driving to the mountains alone during a storm. Sharing a cabin with that man …”
“Jax,” I snap. “His name is Jax.”
“That man,” Dad continues like I didn’t speak. “Chett told us you were ... intimate with him, while you were still engaged.”
The room tilts.
“An affair?” My voice is quiet now. Dangerous. “He told you I had an affair?”
“You were sleeping with him days after breaking up with me,” Chett says, and now there’s an edge to his voice. The mask slipping. “You were still wearing my ring when you drove up there.”
“I took the ring off before I left Denver.”
“Semantics.” He waves a hand dismissively. “The point is, you barely know this guy, and you’re throwing away our entire relationship for him. That’s not rational. This is not you.”
“You don’t get to tell me what’s me.” I’m shaking harder now. “You don’t get to tell me anything. You lost that right when you fucked Brittany.”
“It was a mistake!” Chett yells at me.
“I don’t care.” I’m screaming now. Don’t care who hears. “Every time you fucked her, that was a choice. Every time you lied to my face, that was a choice. Every time you blamed me for your actions, that was a choice. So don’t you dare stand there and act like I’m the one who ruined this.”
Silence falls.
Maggie looks proud of me. Mom looks like she might cry. Dad looks uncomfortable. And Chett ... Chett looks angry. Really angry.
“You’re really going to do this?” His voice is cold. “You’re going to choose him over me? Some random hick you barely know?”
“Don’t call him that.”
“What else should I call him? Your rebound? Your midlife crisis?” He laughs bitterly. “Because that’s what this is, Sloane. You’re having a breakdown and making terrible decisions.”
“The only terrible decision I made was staying with you as long as I did,” I spit at him.
“You’re going to regret this.” He steps closer, and there’s something threatening in his posture now. “You’re going to realize what you gave up. And I won’t be here waiting.”
“Good. Don’t wait. Move on. Marry Brittany. I literally don’t care. Just leave me the fuck alone.”
“Sloane Marie!” Mom gasps.
But I’m done. So fucking done.
I turn to my mother. “How could you do this? How could you invite him here without telling me?”
“I thought if you two just talked …”
“You thought wrong.” Tears are streaming down my face now. “You thought your need to save face was more important than my feelings. You thought keeping up appearances mattered more than the fact that he destroyed me.”
“Sweetheart, I just want you to be happy,” she mumbles through her tears.
“No, you don’t. If you wanted me to be happy, you’d support me.
You’d be angry on my behalf. You’d tell him to get the fuck out of this house.
” I’m sobbing now, ugly crying in front of everyone.
“But instead, you’re taking his side. You’re making me feel crazy for having boundaries.
You’re trying to guilt me into going back to someone who treated me like shit. ”
“That’s not what we’re doing,” Dad says, but his voice lacks conviction.