23. Sloan
SLOAN
“I don’t think I experienced this part of home ownership before,” Sloan said, carrying an armful of bags into her bedroom.
She set them on the floor beside the door as Kyle looked up from where he lay on his back beside an almost-built bed frame, power drill in one hand.
Both dogs were curled beside him, as though they’d adopted him in her absence.
Sadie lifted her head and sauntered over for a pat, but Charlie stayed put.
“What’s that?” he asked. The position made a few veins in his bicep pop—and the one in his forearm.
Maybe it was that.
Maybe it was the power tools. Or the T-shirt and jeans.
But her heart skipped a beat.
“Having to buy two more things for every one thing I buy. I get a lamp, and suddenly, I need a nightstand to put it on and light bulbs to go in it. A headboard . . . which meant a drill and those little slider things to go under corners. Raw ingredients for the pantry, and then a hundred spices I didn’t realize I also need. ”
He grinned. “You could do it my style and just get salt and pepper.”
She set her hand on her hip. “Which is why you’re forced to go out to eat, I’m sure. Speaking of which, I picked up some Italian subs on the way back. You hungry?”
“Starved.” His gaze flicked back to the bed frame. “Almost finished, though. Meet you in the kitchen?”
“Sure. I’ll lay out my best tableware.” She fished around for the bag of subs from the pile she’d dropped, then headed back down the hall.
Having Kyle here this afternoon had been nice.
Almost too nice. The quiet domesticity of it all—him assembling furniture, her painting the bathroom until she’d realized she needed another can of paint and an edged brush for the trim—and the rhythm of it had a peacefulness that she appreciated but never felt permanent.
For far too long, she’d always felt like she couldn’t relax in the calm, forced instead to hold her breath and wait for the other shoe to drop.
But she liked him being here. Liked the fact that he wasn’t making things too complicated for her. He was steady in a way that she hadn’t appreciated enough when she was younger.
She pulled the subs out and then went to the fridge for a couple of cans of soda she’d picked up when they’d gone out the day before. She was doing her best to resist the urge to find excuses for him to stay longer, and hopefully, he wouldn’t see her offering dinner that way.
Being independent doesn’t mean digging up old boyfriends who are too nice to say no every time you need help.
That’s what Penny had said, anyway. Penny had voiced her opinion about Sloan’s decision to move to Nashville in the most older-sister way possible: loudly, negatively, and without mincing words.
But maybe Sloan needed to hear it. Because here she was, letting Kyle build furniture for her.
The sound of the dogs’ nails clicking against the wooden floorboards told her Kyle was probably coming down the hall.
Sure enough, three seconds after the dogs came in, Kyle appeared in the doorway.
“You now officially have a footboard, bed frame, and headboard. After we eat, I can help you slide the mattress on.”
“I can probably manage that on my own. I don’t want you to get hurt lifting it.” She set the soda on the counter, then gestured to the subs. “They’re both the same—Italian with all the fixings. No onion, though, because it upsets my stomach.”
“Awesome, thanks.” Kyle lifted one, then grabbed a can of soda.
Sloan took the other one, then sat down on the floor, legs outstretched in front of her. “Sorry about the lack of seating.” She swatted Charlie away as she came to investigate the food. “Out. Go join your sister in the living room.”
He smiled gently, then came and joined her, back against a counter. “No, this is perfect. Every time I’m with you, I get to experience a whole new side of floorspace living.”
She smirked, unwrapping the sandwich. “I’ll try to assemble the stools for the counter tonight. That way, the next time you come back, I might be able to actually offer you something that resembles a chair.”
“I can put those together before I leave if you want.” Kyle popped open the tab on his soda can. “It won’t take lo—hey!”
Too late.
Charlie had grabbed a hold of Kyle’s sandwich and took off running with it in her mouth.
Kyle reached for it reflexively with his left hand, then a flash of pain crossed his face, and he let out a noise that sounded like a yelp. Scrambling, Sloan put out a hand toward him. “Oh my God.”
As Kyle’s face reddened and he held his shoulder with the opposite hand, Sloan stood and bolted after the dog. “Charlie!” she cried. “Charlie, get back here. Bad dog!”
She’d only gone a few steps when she slid, her heel catching a trail of mayonnaise, oil-covered tomatoes, and deli meat.
Crying out, she only barely managed to register that she was falling before she landed, straight on her backside, the back of her head making contact with the floor a moment later. “Ow!”
Dazed, Sloan blinked up at the ceiling.
“You okay?” Kyle groaned.
Her butt was bruised, her dignity a bit worse for the wear, but . . . yes ? “I think. You?”
“Yeah. Just forgot I shouldn’t move my arm that direction.”
“Let me get you some ice. I have that at least.” Sloan rolled onto her side in time to see Kyle crawl over toward her.
His dimple showed in his cheek as he chuckled, surveying the damage. “I think maybe some dog obedience classes might be in order.”
“She’s a brat. I’m sorry.” Sloan sat up a few feet from him. “You can have my sub instead. I’ll get this mess cleaned up.”
“I don’t want to deprive you of your dinner. Why don’t we just split it?” His eyes flicked to her hair. “Hang on.” He reached over and plucked a few pieces of shredded lettuce from her hair.
Silly as it was, a flutter went through Sloan’s chest.
Stop it, you foolish woman.
He hadn’t given her a gentle caress, just taken trash out of her hair. What is wrong with me? “Thanks,” she said, her voice scraping out lower and rougher than she wanted.
“Just when I think there’s no way to make the scenarios we find ourselves in worse, you always find a way to surprise me,” he teased.
“Oh God, isn’t that the truth?” She cracked a smile, then went over, plucked her sandwich off the floor, and set it on the counter. “Let me go find Charlie and stick her in her crate before she eats anything else. I think she’s had dinner early tonight. And oh—ice!”
She grabbed a grocery bag from the stash she’d started under the sink, then filled it with ice straight from the dispenser on the door. As she passed Kyle, she handed it to him. “Be right back.”
Charlie, it turned out, had hidden in the bedroom where she’d been before, her dark eyes filled with guilt and shame. Once Sloan had coaxed her out of the room, she headed back with Charlie toward the kitchen to find the floor already cleaned—Kyle wiping the greasy remnants off with a spray mop.
The bag of ice remained on the floor.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, confining Charlie and turning toward him.
“No big deal. You fell down, too, you know.”
“I’m fine,” she said, brushing it off. He didn’t need to know that her butt cheek was hurting. “It’s you I’m worried about. Especially with that shoulder. Are you managing okay? I know you’re going to PT and seem pretty independent, but maybe, you overextended yourself here today.”
Kyle gave her a sharp look, then returned the mop to the closet at the end of the kitchen. “Don’t do that,” he said quietly, handing her half the sub.
Something in his tone gave her pause. “Do what?”
He met her gaze again. “Coddle me.” He took a bite. “Sub’s good.”
“I’m not—” She stopped, thinking about his words, aware that she’d clearly struck a nerve. “I’m not coddling you.”
“Fine then . . . pity me—whatever it is. Believe me, I get enough of that lately. I had an accident. It’s fine. But I’ll rip my hair out if it’s what everyone uses to define me and what I should or shouldn’t be doing from here on out.”
The honesty of his words struck her deeply.
“Okay, maybe I was coddling you,” she said, standing across from him.
She focused on her sub for a few moments.
She chewed slowly, thinking about all the videos she’d watched of him the last few months.
Probably not something she wanted to admit to him yet, but it had given her insight into the man Kyle was now—and the persona he’d put on for the camera.
He was smart. She knew that from high school.
Adventurous. Capable. A little reckless, obviously, but that clearly spoke to something else.
And independent, too. A free spirit who didn’t play by other people’s rules.
She could only imagine how things had changed for him as a result of the awful events from winter.
“So, I take it your family has been a bit overbearing after the accident?”
“Putting it mildly. I swear, those first days after they took my chest tube out, my mom considered chewing my food for me so I wouldn’t have the possibility of choking on it.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”
He laughed and sipped his soda. “Sorry. But yeah. It’s been a lot. It doesn’t help that I’m staying at my parents’ for now. But I went looking for an apartment this morning, so it shouldn’t be for too much longer. I love my family, but they’re all driving me crazy.”
Apartment?
The wheels of her mind turned, and not in a great way, so she shut it down. “Did you find anything?”
“There were a few places I liked, but most had a wait list. I did find one that has a unit coming available in forty-two days, so I might just sign the lease and be done with it.”
“That’s . . . not bad.”
“Not great either. I might lose my mind if my parents or sisters ask me how the job search is going again.”
She bit her lip.
She shouldn’t suggest it. She should let the half-baked, not-fully-formed idea die before she did something stupid like—“What about staying here while you wait for the unit? I have a few spare rooms.”
Kyle coughed lightly, as though he’d just choked. “Here?” He raised a brow.