30. Sloan #2
“Dammit, Sloan. Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour.” The irritation in his voice was thick.
“I’m home. I’m sorry, I had turned my phone volume off when I started the lesson and forgot to turn it back on.”
“And you didn’t check your phone once?”
His anger made her feel sick. “I—no. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I . . .” He exhaled. “Just been driving all over town. Tara brought a toy with her and left it somewhere and it’s one of those stuffed animals she can’t live without.
I called because I wanted to see if she left it at the paint shop and hoped I could get you before you left.
But by the time I got back there, it was closed for the night. ”
Fuck. I should have called him to tell him I had it.
She hadn’t considered the fact that Tara would be upset, waiting to get it back.
“Oh yeah, actually, Delilah found it. She gave it to me, and I brought it back here to give to you.”
A few beats of silence followed. Then Kyle sighed. “Well, thank God for that. I gotta go. See you in a few minutes.”
Sloan grimaced as the line went dead, staring at the screen.
Oh God. I didn’t know. I hate making him angry.
Maybe she should have realized what a big deal a missing backpack would be to Tara, but the thoughts hadn’t really occurred to her.
Outside of Cheyenne, whose son was barely over a year, she hadn’t been around kids in forever.
And she rarely felt like she could handle grown-ass adults, let alone tiny humans who were a mystery to her.
Not that she didn’t like kids. She just wasn’t used to them. She’d never even babysat.
She pulled a pair of shorts on, then left the room and went to the kitchen, where she’d left the backpack on the counter. The dogs had followed her, thankfully, giving her something else to focus her attention on as she waited for Kyle.
He sounded so mad.
It made sense that he’d been frustrated, of course, especially if he’d been driving around for an hour looking for the backpack and trying to reach her—but he’d been mad mad. Like, unreasonably so.
The sound of keys in the lock made her heart speed up. She picked up the backpack, then went toward the rail above the stairs as Kyle opened the door. “Hey.”
Kyle came in, his expression serious as he closed the door. “Hey,” he answered, his eyes flicking to the backpack. He climbed the stairs, and she held it out to him. “Thanks.”
“Are you going to drive it to Tara now?”
He shook his head slowly, petting Charlie’s head as she rubbed up against his leg. “No, she’s already fallen asleep at this point. Elle said to just bring it tomorrow.”
“I’m really sorry, Kyle. I didn’t see your phone calls—”
“Forget it.” His jaw set, muscles working at his temples.
Sloan hugged her arms to her chest. “I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you. I’m just . . . tired.” He patted Charlie on the head again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He started down the hallway, backpack in hand.
“You are mad at me, though.” She followed him, her pulse picking up speed. “And I’m trying to figure out what I did wrong.”
He paused at the door to his room, his shoulders sinking as he glanced back at her. “It’s . . .”—he shook his head—“I mean . . . you couldn’t have called me? Told me you had found the backpack?”
“It didn’t occur to me it was important.”
Kyle’s eyes flickered with something unreadable and then he nodded. “Yeah. I know. And phone calls are tough to make. Night.” He went into his room.
Ouch.
And then it was clear.
This wasn’t about the backpack.
She followed him. “You’re not being fair. If you’re mad about tonight, fine. Be mad about tonight. I’m honestly sorry. And if I’d seen your phone calls, I would have answered. I called you the moment I saw them. But if this is about what happened over the winter, then just say so.”
“Fine,” Kyle said, turning to look at her. He took off the baseball cap he’d been wearing and set it on his dresser, his eyes narrowing at her. “Maybe we should talk. You start.”
“Don’t put this on me.” Sloan glared at him. “You’re the one that’s in a bad mood over a phone call.”
“I’m not in a bad mood. I’m just . . . a bit baffled. Like it couldn’t have occurred you to call?”
She crossed her arms. “When? Today? Or after my life blew up in January?” She took a step toward him, her own frustration growing. “Because I already explained that to you. And my life was in shambles.”
“Did you, though? Because I get the whole not having my phone number and having a hard time finding me . . . but you know what? You’re not the only person whose life blew up.
And I was just an innocent bystander, going to a wedding as a guest for a friend.
I ended up jobless, arrested, my name dragged through the mud—which, by the way, you made no effort to correct—and then I was in the hospital and lost my autonomy, too.
And I’m still paying the price, trying to piece my life back together.
So, yeah, your explanation seems a little thin. ”
She flinched. He wasn’t wrong. His life had imploded because she’d reached out to him when she’d felt she had nowhere else to turn. But I’m not responsible for everything he’s gone through, and I need to stand up for myself here too. “I had nothing to do with your accident.”
“Debatable.”
“No, not debatable.” Her tone was colder than she wanted it to be. “No one made you take risks on a Jet Ski but you.”
He nodded. “That’s true. No one did.” His gaze hardened. “But I didn’t have my head on straight in Cabo, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that had everything to do with what happened with you.”
That hurt in a way she didn’t want to admit. Because the entire drive from San Francisco, she’d wondered what she would have done if he’d died, rather than just been injured?
“W-what was I supposed to do? I didn’t mean for any of that stuff to happen. What, would you have preferred I just stay with Evan? Get married to a total asshole who clearly didn’t love me?”
“No, I didn’t say that—”
“Then what? What did you want? For me not to involve you? I’m sorry I did, Kyle. I truly am, but I was desp—”
“No, I don’t care about that. I’m glad I could help you, Sloan. But you couldn’t have, I don’t know, released a statement about what actually happened? Told the journalists that it was your fucking ex who was the cheating douche instead of me? Hell, you could still do it.”
Sloan pinched the bridge of her nose. “I couldn’t . . . and I can’t,” she said softly.
Something in his expression flickered. “Got it.” He started to move past her.
Her hand shot out and caught him by the forearm. “Where are you going?”
“Bathroom. I want to brush my teeth.”
“Stop. Wait. Listen to me.” She dropped her hand from his arm.
“I couldn’t because I was surrounded by lawyers at first, telling me what I could and couldn’t do.
And with Evan being a congressman, I was scared.
His mom was being awful, threatening me in every legal way possible.
” She drew a breath, trying not to think about how cruel Bernice had been.
“And Evan was horrible, too,” she continued.
“He carried on with the narrative that I was a . . . slut . . . who’d hopped into the bed of the first man I ran into.
I don’t know if it just made him feel better to pretend that I was a cheater, too, or he just wanted to stick to that story so that he wouldn’t be accused of defamation.
Maybe he just wanted to have something over me so I wouldn’t release the evidence I was given about his affair.
And surprise, surprise, he found all sorts of people willing to come out and put on paper that they had seen us together long before Vail. ”
Kyle’s chin jerked up. “What?”
“People are always willing to curry favors with politicians for a price.”
His jaw clenched so hard she could see it.
“I wanted it to go away —him to go away. So . . . I signed a nondisclosure agreement. Strictly speaking, I’m not even sure I’m supposed to tell you anything about that, but I know you won’t say anything anyway.”
He covered his face with his hands for a moment. Sloan had never seen Kyle so angry, and she hated that she was the one who’d made him that way. Thanks to Evan fucking Tipton.
“I mean, you’re still able to sue if you want. And if I were subpoenaed, I could testify—”
A short huff left his lips as he dropped his hands.
“I have zero interest in doing that. You just said it yourself—he’s a congressman.
You think I want to get dragged through the nightmare that is the US legal system, opposing expensive lawyers I can’t possibly hope to win against?
Hell, I can’t even afford a lawyer for that right now.
I lost my insurance when I was fired. Medical bills . . . weren’t cheap.”