35. Sloan
SLOAN
Kyle’s arms were around her before Sloan could even ask for a hug, and she sank against him, her stomach knotted tight.
How can this be happening again?
Leukemia wasn’t supposed to be hereditary—the oncologist had reassured Mom of that so many times over the course of her treatment.
But now, Penny had it.
. . . and Dad flew out all this way to tell me in person, only to drop the bomb when he was ten minutes away?
That made even less sense.
And . . . shit.
Dad was going to find Kyle here—assume she’d moved out here for him, just like Penny had suggested. And after last night, it wasn’t like she could say with a straight face that their relationship was platonic.
“You okay?” Kyle asked, looking down at her.
“I’m not really sure what I am.” She met his eyes.
“I’m . . . shocked. Confused.” And a little hurt.
“Why in the hell didn’t Penny tell me? Why leave it to my dad?
My dad said she found out three months ago.
And why is my dad coming out here? If he was planning on surprising me with this, why call and announce he’s showing up and then—”
Kyle dragged his knuckles down her cheek softly, his thumb and forefinger holding her chin. “It sounds like you’re angry.”
Angry? She closed her eyes, breaking eye contact so she could think. “Yeah, I think I am. This fucking sucks, Kyle. I hate this, and not just because I’ve already dealt with the consequences of cancer in my life more than anyone should have to.”
“I know.”
He said that, but did he? How could he possibly understand? His family was . . . damn near perfect. His siblings, happily married. Same with his parents. They all got along—were there for each other. The Winnicks were practically a picture-perfect family.
. . . and then there were the Carringtons.
Mom, gone for eight years now, taken when Sloan was far too young.
Dad, a workaholic stiff robot.
And . . . Penny.
For a while, Penny had been the glue that had held Sloan and Dad together.
The one who organized the rare family dinner or holiday celebrations.
Once Sloan had started dating Evan, that had been easy to let go of, though, considering how miserable and awkward holidays with her family were.
Not that the Tiptons had been warm and fuzzy, but at least they did their holidays in style—somewhere beautiful.
Though maybe that says more about me and my priorities back then than it says about the Tiptons.
But after Sloan had tried to take her own life, the frail relationship she’d had with Penny had crumbled. Neither of them wanted to talk about the ugliness of it.
But in one honest moment a few years ago, Penny had told her how she really felt. “I’m so mad at you. I already lost my mom, and you tried to deprive me of my sister. I know you’re going through a lot, but dammit, I am too.”
Sloan hadn’t known how to respond to that. The last thing she’d needed was to feel worse about what she’d done. Penny calling her selfish didn’t make her feel any better.
As a result, avoiding her became easy.
She breathed out slowly. “I should go get dressed. My dad is almost here. He’s going to assume a lot already once he finds you here, but I don’t think he needs to find me in underwear and your shirt.”
“I’ll try to straighten things up while you do that. I let the dogs out for my meeting—should I just leave them outside?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Dad doesn’t love pets.”
She headed for her room and caught a glimpse of the spare room she’d been painting the night before, since the doorway was open.
The smeared paint, the memory of Kyle’s lips against her, was enough to send a pulse of warmth through her.
She shut the door. If Dad asked for a tour, she’d just tell him she was using the room for storage.
She didn’t want to share a view of that with him, even if he’d have no idea why the mural was a mess.
God, how am I going to explain Kyle? Even she didn’t know what they were.
Dad had liked Kyle, though he hadn’t been thrilled at the idea of the teenage boyfriend who had taken his daughter’s virginity.
He’d said nothing to Sloan, of course—Dad was too awkward for something like that—but Mom had told her while handing her a box of condoms that Dad was “concerned about that boy.”
Little did Mom and Dad know that it had been Sloan who’d practically jumped Kyle after their fourth date. Not that he hadn’t reciprocated, but he never would have pushed her. That wasn’t Kyle.
Kyle had won Dad over by showing up, though. He’d even taken Mom to doctors’ appointments when Dad had a scheduling conflict.
Rather than figure out what to tell Dad by herself, though, she walked over to her phone and tapped out a message to Cheyenne.
Sloan: You’ll be glad to know that things with Kyle . . . are moving along.
Three bubbles appeared. Immediately. As though Cheyenne had nothing better to do than sit and wait for updates on Sloan’s sex life.
Then the phone rang in her hand.
“Tell me everything,” Cheyenne said before Sloan could get a word out. “Every last dirty detail.”
Sloan felt her cheeks warm, flicking a glance at the shower through the open bathroom door as she got dressed.
She shuddered with pleasure.
“Um . . . it was amazing.”
“That is the absolute worst summary I have ever heard.”
“Cheyenne!”
“It’s fine. I’ll just suffer in silence and pretend everyone else is having as vanilla a love life as I am. At this rate, Bryce is going to be an only child.”
Sloan pulled a bra on. “I’m sure it’s hormonal. And temporary. But anyway , I need to ask you about something else.” She sobered as she remembered the real reason for texting Cheyenne and for why Dad was coming. “My dad is on his way here and I need to figure out what to tell him about Kyle.”
“Well, don’t tell him about the sex with Kyle, that’s for sure,” Cheyenne responded dryly.
Sloan managed a teary-eyed smile. “You’re impossible. Actually, it’s pretty serious. Penny has leukemia. He decided to drop in on me, but I guess he wanted to give me some warning that he was on his way once he landed.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have been joking around—”
“No, it’s fine. Honestly, I don’t think it’s even really hit me yet.” Sloan cleared her throat. “If it had, I wouldn’t be able to think about anything else, and I’m not there at the moment. Which I know sounds horrible. But you know how things are with Penny and me.”
“Honey, I don’t think you should feel any guilt about the way you process any of this. You’ve had a dumpster fire of a year, so far. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if your first reaction is numbness.”
“Yeah, but she’s my sister. And it’s not that I don’t care, but . . . she’s known about this for three months, Cheyenne.”
“Oh. Ouch.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
A few beats of silence followed as Sloan wrestled into a dress.
“Do you think maybe she was afraid to tell you? Like she didn’t want to upset you?”
“Maybe, but she still should have told me.”
“I agree. But try not to get mad until you know the full story. Things with family are so freaking complex, you know? And in the meantime, maybe just be honest with your dad about Kyle. You don’t have to tell him you’re sleeping with him, but there’s clearly something going on between you two.
Just tell him you’re figuring it out. No point in making it more complicated than it is. ”
“I just don’t want him to think I ran from San Francisco to jump into something with Kyle. I want him to see me being independent.”
Cheyenne laughed lightly. “Well, if your dad finds out that you’re the only employed person between you and Kyle, maybe he won’t assume you’re not independent.”
True.
The dogs’ wild barking in the backyard told her that her dad had probably pulled up already. “I gotta go. Thank you for the advice.”
“No thank you , for all the future texts you’re going to send me where you spill all about your little love affair.”
Sloan hung up and grabbed a brush, running it through her hair quickly. She felt more nervous than she probably should—this was Dad after all—but no one really understood just how much she didn’t want her dad seeing her as a needy, weak, screwup.
A tap sounded on the doorframe. Kyle leaned against it, still looking way too impossibly hot for her body not have an immediate visceral reaction to him in shorts and a hoodie. “Your dad is here.”
“Did you let him in?”
“No, he’s still sitting in the car. But I thought you’d want to know.”
She nodded and drew a steadying breath. “Am I a screwup?”
He walked toward her slowly. “You are . . . beautiful. Intelligent. Artistic. A little wild.” He set his hands on her shoulders.
“And achingly human. Which means you’re breakable.
We all are, though. The only thing that matters is how we choose to define ourselves by the scars we get along the way. ”
A smile tipped her lips. “You sound like an inspirational poster.”
“I may have stolen the line from one on my PT’s wall.” He winked and kissed her gently, then swatted her ass as the doorbell rang. “You’ll be fine.”
She slipped her hands into his, tempted to ask him to come with her to the door. “I’ll go get that,” she said instead.
“Yeah, I’ll give you a moment alone with your dad. I need to shower and shave anyway. I’d rather look like a respectable human when I see him again.”
She left him in the room and headed toward the door. Kyle had done a pretty good job making the house look better, thank goodness, and she clamored down the stairs, grateful that the dog hair and dust bunnies from the staircase had been swept up.
He really is wonderful.
She opened the door to find her father standing on the patio in a full business suit, which was surprising since her dad rarely wore a suit.
His brown and silver hair was combed neatly, but he had a five o’clock shadow, as if he hadn’t taken the time to shave this morning.
His morning must have started early, though, if he flew from San Francisco.
But do I really know where Dad was coming from?