Chapter 24
BEACH ADJACENT
Sloane leaned against the doorframe, letting the sun warm her shoulders, and watched the street for Reese’s car.
Why wouldn’t she get here already? Every part of her missed Reese, craved her in so many different ways.
Her humor, her body, the soft way her hair tickled Sloane’s shoulders when she leaned in close.
Sloane had been anticipating having her here, in her actual space, for a long time now.
She’d spent the morning tweaking the details, turning the tricky shelf plant to the right, adjusting the Race Hair, Don’t Care magnet on her fridge, fluffing the turquoise pillows on her cream-colored couch, and wholly looking at her home through Reese’s eyes to be sure it checked out.
It was more than silly, she knew, because Reese was a very easy-to-please human who smiled at least once every thirty seconds and sank into new experiences like her favorite pair of shoes.
She would love Sloane’s place and make herself comfortable in record time.
It was one of Sloane’s favorite things about Reese.
She relished life and found the dollop of awesome in most everything.
Sloane checked her watch and exhaled, realizing she felt looser than she had since Cassidy’s accident.
California had shown up for the occasion.
The day was impossibly good—sun bright but not harsh, the air warm without too much weight.
On her walk that morning, the boardwalk had shimmered in the new light, the canal just beyond it twirling into small, dancing ripples.
The palm trees swayed lazily in the ocean breeze, as if even they had nowhere urgent to be.
Now, sitting on the top step in front of her place, a few pedestrians drifted by, skateboards clattering over concrete, a dog barking at nothing in particular, but Sloane barely registered any of it.
Her attention stayed fixed on the driveway, on the exact moment Reese would arrive.
She rolled her lips inward, a quiet hum of happiness moving through her as she imagined Reese’s arms around her, the familiar weight of her body, the kiss that would follow after several very long days apart.
The distance was becoming a problem. Even a few days hurt. And yet, even as she ached for that closeness, Sloane hesitated. Wanting Reese this much felt like leaning into something that could vanish without warning, and Sloane had learned how quickly solid ground could give way.
When a black SUV paused in front of her house, Sloane stood and looped a strand of hair behind her ear. Reese emerged with a bag slung over her shoulder, hair down, eyes bright, and looking more beautiful than ever. “Does this place have any vacancies?” She called from the bottom of the sidewalk.
“Yes, but there’s a problem,” Sloane called back.
Reese walked toward her, head quirked. “What’s that?”
Sloane shrugged. “Only one bed.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“I don’t know what we’re going to do about that,” Reese said, pressing her forehead to Sloane’s. “Except I definitely do. I’ve missed you. Hi.”
“Hi, you,” Sloane said quietly, drinking in the moment. Everything in her went warm and soft. This, this right here, was her happy place. She cradled Reese’s face, and they stayed just like that, foreheads pressed, for an extended moment. The best one, really.
“I talk to you nonstop, yet I feel like it’s been a year since I’ve seen you.”
“Half a week: cruel. Do you want to come inside? It’s almost four. In California time, it’s happy hour.”
“It is?”
“Oh yes. If you just say California time, you can make anything true.”
Reese laughed. “So noted.” She followed Sloane inside, seemingly taking in every detail as they walked. “You collect art,” Reese said, pausing in front of a painting of a woman turned half away, sunlight breaking across her face, unfinished in a way that felt deliberate on the artist’s part.
Sloane placed her hands on her hips and studied the piece she’d found in Florence in a tucked-away shop five years ago.
“I don’t know about collect. That’s probably too generous.
But I pick up pieces here and there. When something compels me to pause and stare for a while, I know it’s good.
” She dropped her hands, and Reese threaded their fingers.
“And that’s the extent of my art knowledge. ”
“Well, you have good taste. But we already knew that.”
“Thank you. Oh! And technically, I am collector adjacent. My father has a Rembrandt. Probably several.”
“He probably has more than one bed, too.”
Sloane laughed and gave Reese’s arm a tug.
“I’ll give you the grand tour.” The house wasn’t big because Sloane was raised in excess and never really understood the point of too much space.
Cozy chic was more her vibe. She’d decorated the living room with a softness in mind, leaning into creams and blues and turquoises that reminded her of the ocean just yards away.
“I love this place. And right on the water. Wow.”
“I haven’t touched my Foster trust fund, but the F1 money was good. You’ll likely find that out soon enough. Plus, my automotive consulting work is fairly specialized.”
“So you can be neighbors with the ocean because you’re Moneybags McGee.”
“Well, my friends just call me McGee.”
Reese turned. “I like it. And I like you. End of story.” She gave Sloane’s arm a tug, and it brought her closer.
They could hear the waves rolling in from the back deck, which felt more romantic than she’d ever fully realized on her own.
She wanted to be kissed so badly. She wanted to be taken.
She wanted to escape the world with Reese Maddox because, with her, the world seemed so much more interesting.
Details snapped sharply into focus like the sound of the waves.
Jokes were funnier. Even food tasted better.
“Have you ever had sex on the beach?” Reese asked, running her thumb over Sloane’s bottom lip.
“Once, years ago. Sexy in theory. But a lot sandier than I would have guessed.”
Reese winced. “Maybe we stay beach adjacent then.”
“Are you making plans for the next few days?”
“And every day after that,” Reese said quite seriously. The declaration sent a flutter through Sloane’s midsection. “Does that scare you?”
“Nothing about you scares me.” She hesitated. “But what you do for a living hits pretty close to home.”
Reese nodded, absorbing. “You’ve been quieter since Cassidy.”
“What if it had been you?” The rush of emotion that nearly toppled her wasn’t new.
She’d been battling it for a while now, but it was gaining ground.
She felt tears prickle, hating that the mood had shifted, but knowing it was important to communicate.
“It scares me that I grow closer to you every single day, knowing the kind of heartbreak that might be waiting for me that very next weekend.”
Sloane swallowed hard. The words had tumbled out before she could sand down their edges. “Every time you strap into a car, I’m bracing for the call. And I hate that part of myself, the part that counts risk like it’s some kind of debt I’ll eventually have to pay.”
Reese’s hand slid beneath her jaw, grounding and warm.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Look at me.” When Sloane did, Reese’s expression was open, unguarded in that way that always undid her.
“I don’t pretend it isn’t dangerous. I know exactly what it is.
But I’m careful. I prepare. I listen. And I love what I do. ” She took a breath. “I also love us.”
The words landed with a quiet weight between them. Sloane laughed weakly, the sound breaking around the ache in her chest. “You say things like that like it’s easy.”
“It isn’t easy,” Reese said. “It’s just worth it.
” She leaned in, pressing a kiss to Sloane’s forehead, then her temple, a trail of gentleness that felt deliberate.
“And for the record, I worry too. About you. About losing time. About all the ways life can blindside you.” She smiled, small and earnest. “We’re both brave in different directions. ”
Sloane rested her hands at Reese’s waist, grounding herself there. The waves rolled in behind them, patient and constant, as if reminding her that fear didn’t get to be the only thing that stayed. “I don’t want to hold you back,” she said. “I just … want you to come back.”
Reese’s smile softened. “Then that’s the deal,” she said. “I go fast. Then I come back.” She nudged Sloane’s nose with her own. “And right now, I’m very much here.”
That was enough. It had to be.
Sloane pulled her closer and kissed her—slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that communicated everything Sloane was feeling.
Reese responded in kind, hands firm at Sloane’s back, like she was anchoring them both to the moment.
When they finally broke apart, Reese rested her forehead against Sloane’s again, grinning. “So. Happy hour?”
Sloane smiled through the last of the sting in her eyes. “On the deck,” she said. “Beach adjacent.”
“Perfect,” Reese replied. “I knew this place had potential.”
It was dinnertime in Venice Beach, and Reese’s mouth watered. For more reasons than one, if she was being honest.
Sloane stood at the stove, barefoot, weight shifting easily from one foot to the other as she worked, knowing the rhythm of her own space.
The stir-fry chicken and vegetables she’d tossed together made the kitchen smell heavenly of garlic and ginger, and a bite of citrus cutting through it all.
Sloane’s hair was pulled up in a careless twist, the kind that suggested it hadn’t been meant to last, wisps escaping at her temples and along the elegant line of her neck.
That neck—bare, vulnerable, impossibly distracting—caught the late light pouring through the windows and turned it into something Reese felt low in her body.
She didn’t even realize she’d gone still until a second passed. Then another.