41. Sloan
SLOAN
“So that’s it then? He’s just made up his mind and left no room for discussion?” Delilah asked, peeking out from behind a canvas where she was designing a new project.
Sloan nodded, propping her feet up on the bar between her stool’s legs. “Basically.” She gave a grudging huff. “I mean, if I told him how much I hate the idea, he might not do it, but how can I ask that of him? I’m the reason he lost his show in the first place.”
“But then why didn’t he tell you when it first came up?”
“Because I had to go to San Francisco, and now he says it’s that he wanted it to be a surprise. Make some new memories in Jackson.”
Delilah swirled her brush in a circular stroke. “It sounds like he was well aware he was thinking about doing something he knew you would totally have a problem with.”
Sloan propped her elbows on her knees and dragged her hands down her face. “Ugh. I don’t get it. We had a perfect few days. You know?”
“I know,” Delilah said dryly. “You were glowing on Friday. It was sickening.” She winked. “It is amazing what great sex will do, though.”
“It’s more than just sex, though.” Sloan ran her hand through her hair.
“I know it is. But I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t say anything.
Especially considering that if something goes wrong, it’s just one more reason for his family to blame me for him having to resort to this, since Evan’s accusations ensured he was fired.
” Not that she’d even fought with him about it yet.
She hadn’t been able to bring herself to do that after his family left because he’d looked sad.
So, they’d gone to bed. Had sex.
And she’d swallowed just how goddamn terrified she was by his surprise and just focused on loving him, because she didn’t know what else she could do.
“Maybe he was scared? Didn’t want to tell you until it was too late for you to object?”
“I’m sure that’s part of it.” Sloan pursed her lips.
The lack of honesty bothered her for sure, even if it was a lie by omission.
Especially considering that Evan’s lie had started out being by omission, too.
But she couldn’t talk about that with Delilah, much as she wanted to.
Evan’s NDA meant that the only people she’d been able to talk to about what she’d been through with him were people who she’d already told, like her family, Cheyenne and her parents, and Kyle.
And she hated, hated how much that NDA had affected Kyle.
“So, what are you going to do?” Delilah rinsed her brush in a cup of water. She wiped the brush on a paper towel. “And I’m not asking as your boss, because I can block off that time in the calendar for you right now if you need.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know how to tell him I don’t want him to do this when I can’t offer him any help or advice about what he should be doing instead.” Her shoulders lifted and dropped with a heavy sigh.
“You could always try to make him sweat a little,” Delilah said with a wink. “I wouldn’t let him off the hook too easily.”
She forced a smile. The truth was, she knew she couldn’t do that either. She wasn’t happy with him. Not by a long shot.
But if she made Kyle feel like her love for him was less than secure, it would do so much damage. She hadn’t come this far to ruin things so quickly in their relationship.
“I keep thinking about how much harder it will be for his family to ever accept me back into their fold if they think this all started because of me. There’s a chance this could blow up in my face, no matter what I do.
I don’t know why, but I just have this feeling I need to let him do this.
For him. Even if it pisses me off. Even if I want to scream at him for potentially wrecking his shoulder if something bad happens. ”
Delilah took a break from mixing colors on her palette to study Sloan.
“Then maybe that’s your answer right there.
I’m a big fan of trusting your gut instincts.
They’re not always right, but they exist for reasons we don’t always understand.
Maybe loving him means accepting him for who he is and stepping out in faith too.
Maybe you’re meant to be by his side. With him. ”
Sloan let a slow smile curve her mouth. “When did Delilah Bloom get to be such a font of wisdom?”
“Oh, honey, I was always a font of wisdom. It just took me a while to find my voice. Once I realized the people who were keeping me small were a whole lot of people who wouldn’t cry at my funeral, I never looked back.”
Sloan stood and hugged her. “Thanks for letting me vent. I should probably get back.”
“I’m here if you need me. We can always crack open another bottle. Get another tattoo.”
Sloan grimaced. “Don’t know if another tattoo is in the cards while Penny’s sick.”
“I get it. Then something else. I’m great at coming up with ways to break free.” Delilah blew her a kiss as Sloan left.
The warm summer night was beautiful, and the shops on Main Street were still open since it was the weekend. As Sloan made her way to her car, she let herself walk slowly, her jumbled thoughts appreciating the air, the sound of life and laughter around her. Community. Connection.
A year ago, she’d been in Bozeman, planning a life to a man she’d never talk to again. A life she didn’t want anymore. That maybe she’d never really wanted. All because she’d been too afraid to let herself get hurt by striving for the life she did want.
And for a few moments yesterday, she’d seen a glimpse of the life she’d dreamed of, while Kyle was in the backyard with his family and she’d been preparing dinner. She watched them from the kitchen window, thinking about what it had taken to get back here.
To feeling safe again.
And now, the rug had been pulled out from under her feet by the one man who’d never made her feel unsafe before.
God, why is he doing this?
It wasn’t betrayal like the kind Evan had handed her—the sort that made you feel like you were worthless and carved you into pieces of yourself that were hard to sew back together again.
This was different.
This, she was certain, wasn’t about her.
It was entirely about Kyle. About something he was going through.
About something she didn’t have the answers for yet.
That bothered her almost as much as Kyle doing this. Wasn’t she supposed to be the one that he came to about whatever worried him? And shouldn’t she know him well enough, by now, to be able to guess what it was?
She knew he’d been curing something—some desire to feel alive—by chasing highs through his activities. But why did he feel the need to prove that in the first place?
Instead of driving home, she pulled over and took out her phone, then opened the email Dad had sent her with the storage facility information.
The silence in the car nearly overwhelmed her as she stared at it, heart pounding.
Then she typed it the address into her maps and pulled the car back onto the road.
She’d planned to ask Kyle to go with her when she went to the unit for the first time, but for a reason she couldn’t explain, she needed to go. Right now. And alone.
But as she arrived, she felt her heart kick into her ribs. The sun had already set, the lights of the storage facility were glowing down, fluorescent and cold.
Hard to believe that everything she had of her mother was in one of these lifeless boxes.
She found the right one, then parked her car in front of it and killed the engine.
Maybe she didn’t need to be alone alone.
Unlocking her phone, she considered who she should call. Not Kyle. He’d want to meet her here, and as much as she loved him, he wasn’t what she needed right now.
Not Dad, either. He’d put Mom’s things in here because he couldn’t handle seeing them. Because they caused him so much pain and were filled with so many memories.
Cheyenne was a good option . . . but no.
What she really needed was her sister.
She dialed Penny.
“Hey,” Penny said when she picked up. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Sloan said, her heart squeezing a little. The fact that Penny still assumed something had to be wrong for Sloan to call her was a sad indicator of the last few years of their relationship.
But I’m calling now. That’s progress.
“I decided to go see the storage facility with Mom’s stuff, and I just wanted the company.”
Penny’s laugh was light. “I still don’t get why you’re so attached to all those antiques. If I’d have known what a big deal they were to you, I would have told you about them years ago.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re shockingly practical, you know.” Sloan went over to the lock and slipped the key inside. The lock clicked open, then she pulled it away and pushed the door open.
“I’m not shockingly practical. I’m just more like Dad, and you’re more like Mom was—attached to baubles and bits that collect dust.”
Sloan searched around for a light. “Dad is the definition of shockingly practical; you understand that? Do you know where the light is in this unit?”
“Hmm . . . I think there was a switch somewhere on the right wall.”
“Hold on a sec.” Sloan put Penny on speaker, flipped the flashlight of her phone on, then found the switch.
As the lights came on, Sloan blinked at the stacks and stacks of cardboard boxes, neatly organized with the attention to detail that only her father was capable of. Labeled on the outside. And not just boxes—furniture.
The duvet and bedroom set from her parents’ bedroom.
Chairs that had belonged to Grandpop. The dining room table.
Sloan walked toward it in a daze. I can’t believe it’s real.
Yet—there it was. And right by one of the table ends, the scar in the wood that Sloan had put there as a little girl by dragging her fork against the surface.
Mom hadn’t yelled at her even though the babysitter had. She’d just laughed and pulled Sloan into her arms.
“People are more important than things, silly goose.”
Tears came to her eyes.
“Sloan?”
“Y-yeah?”
“I’m switching you to a video call,” Penny said decisively.