Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
Sloan continued to study Matty, and then she made a decision—slightly inebriated one, maybe—but she held her hand out like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Come on,” she said. “We’re going.”
Matty blinked, still feeling the warmth of Sloan’s mouth on hers. Still hearing Sloan’s voice in her ear. “Going where?”
“My place.” Sloan’s smirk tried to form, but it wobbled at the edges. “Home.”
Matty’s gaze instinctively flicked towards the bar, towards the door, towards the world outside the bubble they’d made for themselves. “Your mum...”
“She’ll be asleep,” Sloan said. “And if she isn’t, she’ll survive seeing me bring someone home.”
Matty let out a huffed laugh, then sobered as reality pressed in. Gloria. Sloan’s bedroom. How close was it? How thin were the walls?
Sloan’s thumb brushed over Matty’s knuckles in a small grounding touch. “I’m not asking for anything complicated,” she said, quieter now. “I’m asking you to come home with me.”
Matty swallowed, throat tight. It was a big deal for Sloan, that much she knew. Whatever was happening between them was messy, yet it still felt like the most natural thing in the world.
The sensible part of her wanted to suggest her own flat, but Brandon’s impromptu rave and the fact the place never felt properly hers, kept her quiet.
“Alright,” Matty said, and tried to make it sound casual, even though they both knew it was anything but. “Except…we’re taking a taxi.”
Sloan’s mouth twitched. “You do like to try and tell me what to do.”
“I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just being practical.” Matty leaned in, just enough to make it feel like both a tease and a warning. “And you’re not driving.”
“Fine.” Sloan reached for her phone. “Taxi.”
Sloan’s hand stayed at the small of Matty’s back as they threaded through the bodies, and Matty had to bite down on a grin.
The cab ride was a blur of shoulder-to-shoulder warmth and stifled conversation, Matty’s knee knocking Sloan’s, and Sloan’s hand drifting to Matty’s thigh and staying there. Matty liked it like that.
By the time they reached the house, they were giggly in that quiet, conspiratorial way—two women trying not to wake a sleeping dragon.
Sloan paid the driver, then fumbled with her keys, swearing under her breath when the ring caught on her sleeve.
Matty leaned in, voice low, “Need any help?”
Sloan shot her a look. “Don’t.”
Matty grinned. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t be so…” Sloan murmured, finally getting the key into the lock. “You’re distracting enough as it is.”
Sloan managed to get the door open on the second try, the lock sticking before it gave with a dull click. They slipped inside and eased it shut behind them as carefully as they could.
Sloan turned, and for a second, she just stood there, breathing. She kicked off her shoes.
Matty didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.
Sloan’s hand found her waist again, fingers firm, guiding her back until Matty’s shoulders brushed the wall.
Sloan’s mouth met hers—no teasing this time, no testing—just a kiss that left no room for thought, until Matty’s hands were in Sloan’s hair and she was making a sound she’d never admit to in daylight.
Sloan broke away just enough to breathe against her lips, “Tell me this was a bad idea.”
Matty smiled, mouth brushing Sloan’s. “Do you want me to lie?”
Then a groan cut through the air.
Not a sexy one. Not a pleased one. Both women went still.
It came again—a low, pained sound that made Matty’s stomach drop and Sloan’s whole body lock.
“Did you hear that?” Matty asked.
Another groan—closer, sharper.
Sloan’s head snapped towards the stairs. “Mum?”
Matty pushed off the wall, the warmth in her body turning cold in an instant. “That didn’t sound like ‘asleep’.”
Sloan was already moving, bare feet silent on the runner as she hurried to the bottom of the stairs. Matty followed, heart thudding, the house suddenly too quiet, too full of corners.
At the top of the staircase, the chairlift sat empty. The small landing light was on, throwing a weak yellow pool across the carpet.
And in it was Gloria, on the floor, half on her side, one arm bent awkwardly beneath her.
Her nightdress was soaked through, clinging to her thighs and stomach.
Beside her, a glass lay shattered, the smell of something sweet and sharp—juice, maybe—spreading across the carpet in a dark, glistening stain.
Gloria’s face was pinched with pain and fury. Her eyes snapped to Sloan the moment she saw her, bright with accusation.
“Oh,” Gloria hissed, voice perfectly clear despite the tremor in it, “so you do come home.”
Sloan’s expression drained of everything except shock. “Mum! What have you done?”
Gloria tried to push herself up and immediately winced, sucking in a breath. “I got a drink,” she snapped, as if that explained everything, “because I wasn’t going to lie there like a corpse, waiting for you to remember I exist.”
Matty swallowed hard, already scanning—where the glass had been, how she’d fallen, whether she’d hit her head.
Sloan took one step forward, then stopped, like she was afraid of making it worse.
“Don’t move,” Matty said, voice tight. “Nobody move.” Her eyes flicked to the shards on the carpet. “And you.” She pointed to Sloan’s bare feet. “Watch the glass.”
Gloria’s laugh was short and bitter. “What are you doing here?”
Matty crouched carefully at the edge of the spill, keeping her voice calm and ignoring the barbed jibes. “Mrs S, can you tell me where it hurts?”
Gloria’s eyes flicked to her, and something complicated flashed there—a mix of annoyance, embarrassment, and the faintest edge of relief.
“My hip,” Gloria said through clenched teeth. “And my dignity, if you must know.”
Sloan’s jaw clenched. Her gaze darted over the chairlift, the broken glass, and the soaked nightdress. “Why didn’t you wait?” she demanded, but the words trembled.
Gloria’s chin lifted, stubborn even on the floor. “Because I’m not a child.”
Matty met Sloan’s eyes over Gloria’s body—one silent message: ‘We deal with this first.’
Sloan nodded once, hard, then reached for her phone with fingers that weren’t quite steady. “I’m calling 999.”
Gloria’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare.”
Sloan’s voice dropped, all the softness gone. “Watch me.”