SLOAN #2
He just held her closer, his heartbeat steady against her ear. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “I’m so sorry, Sloan. I’m so sorry that you felt that hopeless.”
She gulped a breath, then wiped her tears away and sat straighter, searching his gaze. “Yeah, well . . . Evan just basically equated his mistake of cheating on me with my mistake of wanting to die.”
His hands rose and cupped her face, his palms warm with careful pressure, thumbs brushing away the last of the wetness on her cheeks like she was something breakable he intended to protect. “He’s a bastard. But I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”
She shook her head.
“Don’t let him use that to hurt you right now. People say all sorts of things when they’re trying to save their own pride. For some reason, sorry is always last on that list.”
She blinked a few more times, searching his face, her pulse returning to a normal pace. His eyes, a light blue with a more vibrant, darker blue radiating from his pupils like sundials . . . God, they were so familiar.
Too comforting.
She found herself startled to believe how well she still registered it all.
His hands, his voice, the heat of his body through layers of clothing.
She had been little more than a girl when she used to stare into those eyes, letting herself get lost in the comfort of his arms, the softness of his kisses.
“You didn’t,” she whispered.
His brows furrowed. “What?”
“You didn’t say anything mean when I broke up with you—when I hurt your pride.
You didn’t pick the worst thing about me and throw it back in my face.
” Her mouth dried. “I did, though. I was horrible to you. You were just a kid, trying to pass your classes. Trying to pay your way through college. Dealing with your own stuff. Of course you couldn’t have just taken a semester off to nurse my wounds.
Yet I screamed at you. Called you names. ”
Kyle looked away, jaw working once. “Sloan . . . it was a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry, though.” She said it because she needed him to hear it. Maybe even hear herself say it. “I don’t think I said it well enough last night, but I am. I was a mess. I fell apart after Mom died, and I took it out on you.”
He leaned his head back against the wall. “I knew all that already. I understood that when it happened.”
She sat back on her heels, her chest aching. “But I didn’t. I didn’t get it for a long time. Maybe not even until after I was forced into therapy.” She stared at her hands. “I threw so much away, including you, and I didn’t care.”
Kyle’s fingers closed around hers, gentle but firm.
“I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago.” His gaze held hers.
“To be honest, I’m a lot better at forgiving everyone else than I am at forgiving myself.
I spent years wishing I’d been able to come up with a better way to be there for you in the months after your mom died. ”
That nearly took her breath away. She’d broken up with him, and he’d wished he’d done more to be there for her?
Wow.
Even as a young man, he’d been exceptionally kind.
Which was more than she deserved.
The words came out before she could overthink them. “Can we be friends, then? I just . . . could really use a friend right now.”
A few beats of silence passed before Kyle cracked a smile that shone in his eyes. “Woman, I don’t know what the hell it is you think I’ve been doing the last twenty-four hours, but it’s called being a friend .”
A shaky laugh escaped her—more breath than sound—but it loosened the tension in her chest.
True.
Her shoulders lifted as she inhaled a breath and released it. “Okay. Then we’re friends.” She blinked. “So, where do we go from here?”
Kyle scrubbed a hand down his face, then straightened like he was switching into problem-solving mode.
“Uh . . . Bozeman, tomorrow. And then, wherever the road leads.” He hesitated.
“Although, Davy called and told me my production company booked me for a trip to Cabo in two days, so that’s where I have to head, at least.” His expression grew more playful.
“And I think we should probably make a pit stop out to the living room before Dean and Francesca wonder what the hell is going on.”
Cabo in two days? She hadn’t expected the sudden pinch of disappointment with that hit. “Oh, you’re leaving so soon?”
“Yeah, something about orca pods being really visible right now.”
She nodded like she understood.
Of course he had to go. He had to get back to work. Unlike her, he actually had a job. A life that didn’t revolve around Evan’s schedule and Evan’s money and Evan’s expectations.
But I can’t think about that right now. About how I need to figure out what I’m going to do now that I don’t have Evan paying my bills.
“Sounds good,” she said lightly. “How about I follow you out there in a few minutes? I need to wash my face. Make sure my nose isn’t red.”
His eyes danced with amusement. “Sweetheart, it’s definitely red.” He stood, dusting off his jeans. “Remember how I used to call you Rudolph when you cried?”
He winked then opened the door. “See you out there.”
She smiled to herself as she gathered herself. Rudolph. She hadn’t thought of that in years.
She slipped into the bathroom and found the switch. The light snapped on. Her reflection stared back—eyes a little swollen, cheeks flushed, nose undeniably red.
He was right.
She sighed, turned on the faucet, then splashed some water on her face. That might have been one of the worst phone calls she’d ever had—yet she felt strangely okay.
Not fixed or healed. Not even remotely safe. In fact, he didn’t even confirm he’d call the police and let them know the truth. But steadier.
Optimistic, in the way she felt when she decided and finally stopped fighting it.
Even though she hadn’t wanted to talk to Evan, she was relieved it was over, rather than looming like a shadow in the corner of every thought.
Now they could all just go about their lives.
The police could call off their search, and she’d eventually find a way to call her dad and get his help disentangling her life from Evan’s.
Dad was good at those sorts of things, at least.
Shutting off the water, Sloan tilted her head as she studied the reflection staring back at her.
New hair. New freedom. New relationship status.
Life is a blank slate.
And that’s a good thing.
For now, though, she could use dinner with kind people who didn’t make love feel like a debt.
And maybe a drink.