Chapter 26 Sloane #2
Blakely doesn’t blink. “This morning.”
Jade freezes. “Oh.”
Blakely continues, calm. “I spilled my coffee.”
Jade exhales dramatically, her eyes rolling hard. “Oh, what a travesty.”
Blakely’s mouth twitches. “Your turn.”
Jade spins again, and the bottle lands on Logan.
Jade’s grin turns feral. “Logan Brooks.”
Logan sits up a little, already wary. “No.”
Jade laughs. “Truth or dare?”
Logan exhales. “Truth.”
Jade’s eyes gleam. “Who was your first crush?”
Logan stares at her. Then at me. Then back.
His jaw ticks, and I can feel my heartbeat in my throat.
Jade leans in. “Answer.”
Logan’s mouth twists like he’s deciding whether to commit violence.
Then he says, flatly, “A girl named Emma in the fourth grade.”
Jade blinks. “That’s boring.”
Logan shrugs. “Sums up my life.”
I snort. “Liar.”
Logan’s gaze flicks to mine. A hint of amusement. “Yeah?”
Jade squints. “Wait. Fourth grade is when you met Cameron.”
Logan’s eyes narrow like he’s clocking the trap. “Yes.”
Jade’s grin returns. “So Emma was at Cameron’s school?”
Logan rolls his eyes. “Jade.”
Jade claps her hands. “Oh my God. He’s lying.”
Blakely murmurs, “He’s definitely lying.”
I glare at them both. “Leave him alone.”
Jade gasps, “Ohhhh, she defended him!”
“Shut up,” I snap.
Logan’s mouth twitches like he’s enjoying this more than he wants to admit.
Jade spins again, and this time the bottle lands on me. Of course it does.
Jade’s eyes light up like Christmas. “Sloane Rhodes.”
I straighten. “No.”
Jade laughs. “Truth or dare?”
I can feel Logan’s gaze on me—steady, quiet.
I swallow hard. “Truth.”
Jade’s grin goes sharp. “What’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to someone and regretted?”
My stomach drops.
The room tilts.
I can feel my pulse in my ears.
Because I know the answer.
It’s not what I said to some girl in seventh grade or a ref last month.
It’s the things I’ve said to Logan over the last two years because it was easier to hate him than to admit he hurt me.
I stare at Jade. “That’s not fair.”
Jade’s grin falters, just a little. “Slo—”
“Ask something else,” I say, voice tight.
Blakely’s voice is calm but firm. “Jade.”
Jade hesitates, suddenly aware she stepped on something sharp.
Logan’s voice cuts in, low and steady. “I’ll take it.”
I turn my head fast. “No.”
Logan’s gaze holds mine. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” I hiss.
Jade looks between us, eyes wide. “Okay, um—”
Logan leans forward slightly, bracing his forearms on his thighs. His voice is casual, but his eyes aren’t.
“Truth,” he says, looking at Jade. “Ask me something else.”
Jade swallows, nodding quickly. “Okay. Uh…okay. Truth. What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?”
Logan exhales like he’s grateful for the pivot.
Then he says, deadpan, “I just wore an ‘I love the point guard’ shirt in public.”
Jade screams with laughter.
Blakely actually smiles.
I cover my face with my hands, mortified, and the laugh that slips out of me is small but real.
Logan’s eyes flick to mine over my fingers.
And for a second, something in his gaze says, Good. Breathe.
Jade wipes tears. “Okay, okay. My turn.”
She spins again, bottle landing on Jade herself.
She throws her hands up. “Dare.”
Blakely’s eyes gleam. “Finally.”
Jade squints. “Oh no.”
Blakely’s voice is calm. Dangerous. “Text Coach and tell him you love his defensive drills so much that you think we need more of them.”
Jade looks like she might pass away. “Absolutely not.”
Blakely lifts a brow. “Dare.”
Jade groans, grabs her phone, and types dramatically.
Jade: Coach, just wanted to say I LOVE your defensive drills. I really think we should do more of them.
She hits send and drops the phone like it’s going to go up in flames.
We all erupt into laughter.
Even Logan laughs—a real one, brief, surprised.
It’s stupid. It’s ridiculous.
And for a handful of minutes, the dread loosens its grip on my throat.
Then Jade’s phone buzzes.
She reads it and screams.
“HE REPLIED!”
Blakely leans in, calm. “Read it.”
Jade clears her throat theatrically. “Coach says, ‘That’s the spirit. See you at 6 a.m.’”
I groan. “No.”
Logan grins. “Justice.”
Jade points at him. “I hope your knee swells.”
“Nice,” Logan says dryly. “Very supportive.”
Jade sticks her tongue out.
The bottle spins again, but this time Blakely stops it with her hand.
She looks at me, eyes steady.
“Sloane,” she says quietly. “Truth.”
My stomach tightens again.
I glare. “No.”
Blakely’s voice stays calm. “I won’t ask anything rude!”
I swallow hard. “Fine.”
Blakely holds my gaze. “What do you want?”
The question hits like a punch because it’s so simple, yet so unfair.
Because I haven’t let myself want things lately. Wanting feels like tempting fate to land another blow.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Jade goes quiet.
Even the music feels muffled.
Logan doesn’t speak. He just watches me with such intensity that I feel like he’ll take whatever I say and try his best to fix it.
My throat burns.
“I want…” My voice cracks.
I hate it.
I clear my throat and force it out.
“I want one normal day,” I whisper. “Where I don’t have to be brave.
Where I don’t have to pretend I’m fine. Where I can pretend my life isn’t filled with this…
” The words lodge themselves in my chest, and I have to swallow before I can get the rest out.
“Constant dread that any time I let my guard down for just a second, it’ll be the end. I just want to live a normal day.”
Silence.
Blakely nods once, like she expected exactly that. “Okay.”
Jade’s eyes shine. “We can do that.”
I scoff, wiping my face before anyone can see it. “You can’t.”
Logan’s voice is quiet. “We can try.”
My chest tightens.
I stand abruptly, grabbing my phone like it’s a shield that can protect me from reality. “Okay. Time. Twenty-five minutes is up.”
Jade pouts. “You’re leaving?”
I nod, not trusting my voice quite yet.
Blakely stands, too, moving closer. “Text me when you’re home.”
“I will,” I mutter.
Jade wraps me in another hug—quick and fierce. “You did great today,” she whispers.
I swallow hard. “Stop.”
“No,” she says, pulling back to look at my face. “It’s okay to let people be proud of you, ya know.”
My throat tightens. I hate her, but I love her at the same time.
Logan stands carefully, grabbing his keys. “Come on.”
We leave before I can melt into the couch and become someone softer than I trust.
—
Outside, Logan walks beside me, limping slightly.
Neither of us speaks at first.
The car is silent when we get in, the muffled party noise fading behind us.
When Logan starts the engine, he glances at me.
“You okay?” he asks.
I stare out the window. “No. Not really.”
Logan’s hand tightens briefly on the steering wheel.
Then he says, quietly, “That’s okay.”
No argument. No pep talk.
Just…acceptance.
My chest aches yet warms at it.
We drive for a few blocks before I speak again, voice low.
“I hate Truth or Dare,” I admit.
“Same.” Logan’s mouth twitches. “I was a total dick at a party awhile back with one of my teammates and his girl. Caused a lot of shit between them. I was mad and took it out on him because he had what I wanted.”
I glance at him, confusion furrowing my brow. “You wanted the girl he was with?”
“No.” Logan’s eyes fly to mine before going back to the road.
“Not at all. It wasn’t that. I wanted what he had in the sense that he had who he wanted and was insanely happy.
He had someone choosing him back. Jaxon put his entire future in the NFL on the line and transferred to PCU for his best friend, without any clue that she didn’t even remember calling him in the first place.
He’s a hell of a lot better wide receiver than I am, too, and took my starting position, so that didn’t help things either.
Honestly, though, it was what the team needed.
We’re good now, but I really fucked that up for a minute. ”
“Huh. Who would’ve thought you, of all people, would be so self-aware?” I glance at him, the streetlights highlighting the cut of his jaw, the slight stubble growing there. “You saved me in there tonight.”
Logan’s eyes flick to mine, then back to the road. “You didn’t need saving.”
“Yes,” I say sharply. “I did. I don’t like to talk about those things, even with Jade and Blakely.”
Logan goes quiet, contemplating, and then he exhales a question I really don’t know the answer to. ”Why do you talk to me about it then?”
I swallow hard, forcing the words out before I can take them back. “I don’t know,” I whisper.
Logan’s jaw flexes, but he doesn’t say anything more.
The rest of the drive home is quiet.
When we pull into the driveway, the porch light is still on, Cam’s truck parked next to mine.
Logan turns off the engine and looks at me.
His voice is careful. “Ready to go inside?”
Honestly? No.
Unbuckling, I turn to face Logan, his brow lifting in a silent question, but he doesn’t go to leave the truck.
The back of my eyes starts to tingle, and I know it’s just a matter of time before tears escape. Logan’s eyes soften, as if he can sense the storm brewing in my mind.
Everyone always talks about grief after the fact, but no one ever talks about the absolute despair that consumes you during the time when you know what’s coming, just not when.
“I don’t want to go inside yet,” I say, leaning my head against the seat.
Logan mimics my position, leaning back against his door and getting comfortable. “Then we won’t.”
His eyes stay on mine, and I swear, I could get lost in them if I’m not careful.
Even in the dark, I know what they look like.
I’ve spent half my life staring at them, but they’ve never brought me comfort until recently.
They’re blue, but not a typical blue. They remind me of a storm, in a way, or maybe it’s the calm before the storm hits, swirling shades and hues of blue.
“There was never a girl named Emma, by the way,” he says, snapping me back to reality. “I honestly can’t remember who my first crush was. I’m sure I had one, but I can only remember one girl from my past.”
Something that feels a lot like jealous swirls in my stomach, but I ask the question anyway. “Who?”
Logan’s eyes trace over my face before he leans forward, tucking a stray hair out of my face and behind my ear.
“There was this girl. She was absolutely ruthless. She’d steal my football, hide my shoes, swap her tuna fish sandwich for my PB&J when I wasn’t looking.
She also took the filling out of my Oreos and swapped it with toothpaste once.
” He pauses, a small grin tugging at his lips.
A wobbly chuckle leaves me. “She sounds terrible.”
“The worst,” he says, bringing his face even closer. If I moved an inch, my lips would meet his. “She’s gorgeous. Smart. Maybe a little terrifying, but she got my attention, and she’s kept it ever since.”
I can’t take it anymore. I close the distance between us, trying to tell him without words whatever it is that I’m feeling.
His hands come up to frame my face, his fingers sliding into my hair as he kisses me thoroughly, but I need more. I deepen the kiss, trying to move my legs to straddle him, but his lips curve up, and he pulls back just enough to speak.
“As much as I’d love this to continue,” he says, breath tickling along my jaw, “if your brother walked out right now, I’d be fucked, and not in the literal sense.”
I can’t help but laugh at that, dropping my head to his shoulder.
We sit there for seconds, minutes, maybe more, before he kisses my hair. He gently lifts my chin so that I’m looking right at him. His eyes are searching mine, and I’m not sure what he finds there, but he seems pleased with what he does.
I think the word hate is turning into something I’m not quite ready to name.