SLOAN
Her hair, a deep chestnut brown close to her natural color, was startlingly different.
She’d started highlighting her hair in college, lightening it here and there to “add dimension.” Over time, dimension had turned into an entire identity. Lighter and lighter and lighter. Until the brunette she’d been didn’t exist anywhere outside old photos.
Her mouth dried. “I love it,” she managed, even though she wasn’t sure if she completely meant it.
“It’s totally you,” the stylist said, squeezing her shoulder. “The blond was pretty, but this really brings out your natural features and eyes.”
Sloan gave her a practiced smile, thanked her, and gathered her things, but as she made her way over to the front desk to pay, she caught sight of herself in another mirror and her heart stumbled.
I look like a completely different person.
This light. That angle.
She looked like her mother.
Her mouth went dry and she tore her gaze away.
She paid the bill, feeling ashamed that her first worry as she swiped Kyle’s card was what happens if this declines? But it didn’t and, as she turned to exit, she shoved that thought away with everything else she’d shoved away in the last twenty-four hours.
As she turned to leave, she saw Kyle approaching on the sidewalk, a large plastic bag in hand.
He lifted his head and their eyes collided.
And he stopped.
Not like a tiny hitch in his step. Not a polite pause. A full stop.
Something flickered in his expression—shock, maybe—like he’d taken a step into a memory without warning.
Her heart squeezed hard— oh no.
The last time he’d seen her before Vail, she’d probably looked more like this. Less polished. Less . . . curated. Maybe the blond version was easier to forgive.
A split second later, Kyle recovered. He gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and started forward again.
They reached for the door at the same time, and Sloan slipped outside before he could say anything in front of a salon full of women who would absolutely clock the tension and decide it was their business.
“Hey,” she said, aiming for confidence and landing somewhere near functional.
“Hey yourself.” His gaze flicked over her face again—too quick to be obvious, too careful to be accidental.
“You like it?” She gave a small pose that felt ridiculous and necessary at the same time.
His smile softened. “I thought I’d stepped into a time portal or something.” Then he swung the bag up and held it out. “But you need this to complete the look.”
She took the bag and peeked inside. Soft pink puffy fabric. “You got me a coat?”
“Yeah,” Kyle said, like this was normal behavior between people who weren’t even technically friends anymore.
“I mean, we are in a ski resort town.” He pulled it out and held it up for her to slip into.
“I don’t know if this is still your favorite color, probably not, but if you hate it, we can return it and get you something else. ”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn pink. When she was a teenager, probably. Most of the time these days she opted for gray and black. Sometimes a light beige. Safe colors. Background colors.
Colors that . . . hid my true self. My identity.
She took a deep breath.
“It’s perfect,” she said, and yanked the tags off like she was afraid he’d change his mind. “Thank you.”
“There are gloves in the bag, too. Just in case you didn’t bring those either.”
Heat prickled up Sloan’s neck. “I brought gloves.”
Kyle’s brow lifted. “I’m not judging.”
“Oh, shove it. You totally are.”
“I mean, I’m glad. I’m proud of you.”
She gave him a mock scowl. “Don’t get used to it.”
His lips curved in something that was almost a smile, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets as they started forward.
Vail was absurdly beautiful in the morning. Quintessentially, old European style. A dream in the winter.
Snow muffled the village the way velvet quieted a room.
Morning had turned Vail into something crisp and ringing with sunlight as it spilled over the peaks and caught in the snow piled along the walkways, turning every edge and footprint into a scatter of white fire.
In Lionshead Village square, the air smelled like cold and coffee and pine, clean enough to sting at the back of her throat when she breathed it in.
An idyllic day for a quintessential winter wedding.
Their boots crunched over packed snow as they passed stone storefronts and timbered balconies, their windows bright with early warmth and quiet movement inside.
The gondola wasn’t far from here and the lifts were already moving at a low, steady hum threading through the village, and skiers drifted past in easy clusters, laughing.
Evan’s favorite kind of day.
The day would have been perfect. Had they got married today. Ironically, she had zero doubt that she’d made the right decision.
The sky was a hard, stunning blue, the kind that made winter feel as elegant as Bernice had proclaimed it would be when they’d settled on the wedding date.
She gave Kyle a sidelong glance, but he’d gone silent, brow furrowed in deep thought, like he was holding an entire argument inside his skull.
Embarrassment burned Sloan’s cheeks—cold and shame mixing together—but something about walking through the town with him made her breathe a little easier, like the day was holding its breath, waiting to see what she would do with it.
“How did breakfast go?” she asked, mostly to break the silence. She’d grabbed a cup of oatmeal and a latte from the coffee shop across from the salon while waiting for it to open, but she kind of regretted not going with him for a full breakfast.
Kyle drew a deep breath, and his exhale made a pale cloud in front of them. Then he stopped and grabbed her hand, holding her back as they neared his rental car.
Sloan’s pulse jumped at the contact. Not in a romantic way. Definitely not. Just in a . . . why does my skin feel like that way.
“I told Davy about you.”
She stilled, her eyes locking with his. “What?”
“I didn’t want to lie to her, or to you. You don’t deserve that, and I’m a terrible liar. But Davy is my friend—”
“She’s also Evan’s friend,” Sloan snapped, anger rushing in so fast it blurred her thoughts. “She’s going to go straight to Evan.”
“I asked her not to. And she promised me she won’t, for now. And that, if she does, she’ll tell me before she does.”
Sloan wrenched her hand free of his grip. “I thought I could trust you.”
“You can. That’s why I’m telling you the truth now rather than waiting until the lies pile up, leaving you feeling even more betrayed.”
Sloan crossed her arms hard. Rage wanted somewhere to go, and Kyle was conveniently in front of her.
“I know it’s not what you wanted, and you can be angry, but you’ll have to talk to Evan eventually and the last thing I want is to complicate anything further with lies that will hurt people like Davy.”
On the one hand, she understood.
On the other— God dammit.
She hated that he’d decided for her.
“You couldn’t have waited for . . . a day? You know. Respected my wishes?”
Kyle’s jaw tensed. “Evan filed a missing persons report, Sloan.”
The words landed like a slap.
“He’s suggesting that you might have been taken.” Kyle’s gaze held hers, steady. “This whole messy, not talking to people thing is about to get a whole lot worse.”
Motherfucker.
Her hands clenched until her nails bit into her palms. “Of course he did,” she hissed. “Because why in the hell would I leave him if I wasn’t forced? He’s so perfect, right? No one would ever willingly walk away from Congressman Evan Tipton.”
She stalked toward the car. “Come on,” she snapped. “Let’s go.”
Kyle didn’t move right away. He stared at her like she’d grown antlers. “You still want to go?” The doors unlocked as he approached.
She flung the passenger door open and climbed in, irritation prickling under her skin. “Yes, I want to go.”
Kyle got behind the wheel, still watching her out of the corner of his eye like he wasn’t sure what version of her was going to show up next.
“Don’t you see?” Sloan said, voice rising.
“I left a note. I left my engagement ring. I emailed him pictures of the goddamned evidence.” Her throat burned.
“And that’s not good enough. What does he do?
He tracks my phone, goes knocking on cabin doors like a psycho.
Files a fucking missing persons report. Don’t you get it? ”
She was practically shouting now as Kyle started the car, still staring straight ahead. He didn’t interrupt though.
She unzipped the coat he’d bought her, feeling like she’d burst out of her own skin if she didn’t.
“He’s not only trying to save face, he’s trying to force me to talk to him.
I ignored years of red flags, thinking that we’d be happy because of the occasional good times.
But he cheated, Kyle, and I don’t believe that I should just ignore that and go through with the marriage. I’m sick of feeling . . . manipulated.”
For some reason, it wasn’t just the way he’d cheated, but the way he’d told Felicity to let that journalist into Sloan’s wedding prep right after she’d declined.
Again. Evan knew Sloan loathed the spotlight.
That she liked reporters and journalists even less.
That she wanted to keep some things from their wedding private.
And what had he said? “If I can handle a few photos, so can Sloan.” Like the opinion she’d voiced didn’t matter. Like she didn’t get the final say because that rested with him.
Her voice shook with anger. “I’m done with that. Now, I get to do something—have my say —and if I don’t feel like fucking talking to him for a few hours , that’s my call. Not his.”
The anger hit with a force she hadn’t expected it to.
Not tears—she didn’t want to cry.
She wanted to punch something.
To scream.
To stomp.
How dare he?
How fucking dare he?
She sat there, shaking, stunned by her own intensity.
But somehow, letting all of that out made her feel absurdly better.
“You know what I feel like doing?” she asked, hands shaking.
“Killing someone?” Kyle deadpanned, not skipping a beat.
A bubble of laughter rippled through her without warning. “Yes.” She shook her head. “But that’s not what I meant.”
Kyle’s mouth curved, like seeing her laugh physically relieved him. “Okay. Then what?”
“I feel like skiing,” Sloan said, and the words surprised her even as they came out.
“Just to spite him. He was always begging me to go out there with him and I hated going and it made him furious. And he wanted to spend the morning of our wedding skiing. So . . . fuck him. I’m going to do it without him. ”
Kyle gave her a look of confusion. “You want to go skiing right now?”
“Yes.” She exhaled. “But not here. I don’t want to run into anyone here for the wedding.”
Kyle ran his hand through his hair, as though he was half tempted to pull it out.
“I—” He glanced at her, cautious. “Okay. My buddy Dean has a place in Breckenridge. He could probably lend us gear, too, so we don’t have to rent it and show ID.
” He paused. “It’s about a forty-five-minute drive, if you want to go. ”
“Perfect,” she said, settling back in the seat. Then she added quickly, “If you don’t mind.”
“What about your dog?” he asked, raising a brow.
The thought clouded her heart. But it wasn’t like Sadie was in danger or anything, either.
They’d hired a trusted dogsitter to stay at the house with her for the wedding.
And, truthfully, Evan probably wasn’t even thinking about Sadie.
He barely tolerated her . “She’ll be okay for now,” she said, forcing steadiness.
He frowned, maybe wondering if she’d been exaggerating anything before.
“I don’t think Evan will steal her.” But that doesn’t mean he won’t weaponize her, either . She swallowed. “I just . . . want to get her before he thinks of doing something petty and stupid.”
Kyle’s arms flexed, protectively. “Breckenridge,” he decided, shifting the car into reverse. “Then we figure out the dog plan.”
She nodded, staring out the windshield at the bright, ridiculous day.
He shifted the car into reverse. “Sounds like a plan.”
“You’re still on my shit list,” she said. “Sort of.”
That finally cracked a real smile on his face. “Noted.”
The warmth of that smile did something inconvenient to her stomach.
Then she added quietly, “But thank you for not lying to me. It means a lot.”
More than she’d realized it would.
Kyle’s gaze flicked to her softly and he nodded once.
She turned away fast, catching her reflection in the window, thinking about Kyle’s words.
“That’s why I’m telling you the truth now, rather than waiting until the lies pile up, leaving you feeling even more betrayed.”
Sloan had always hated liars, and it was possibly why Evan’s betrayal angered her so much. Who knows how many other women Evan had slept with over the years? After all, once a cheater, always a cheater. Now, despite knowing I left willingly, he’d filed a missing persons report. Ass.
Kyle’s first thought in this whole big mess was to be honest with Sloan. I appreciate that more than he can know. He’d always been one of the good ones with an natural instinct to take care of people, even when it cost him. Maybe because he has two sisters.
He’d grown to become a good man, too.
A friend.
And right now, I could use one of those.