Chapter 22 Sloane
SLOANE
Iwake up to the worst hangover of my life. My head is pounding. My mouth tastes like I licked a tequila-soaked ashtray. And there’s a jackhammer somewhere inside my skull doing its best impression of construction work.
“Fuck,” I groan, burying my face in the pillow.
Then the memories hit.
The bar.
The champagne.
The tequila shots.
Oh God, the phone call.
I bolt upright, immediately regretting it as the room spins, and grab my phone from beside me. I scroll through my texts with Jax, my stomach dropping with each message.
SLOANE: I love you.
JAX: I love you too. Can’t wait to see you. Sleep well.
Oh God.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
I told him I loved him.
While drunk.
I confessed everything about the business, moving there, and falling in love with him while I was three sheets to the wind.
“Morning, sunshine!” Riley’s voice is way too chipper as she appears with a glass of water and more ibuprofen. “How’s the head?”
“I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying. You’re hungover. There’s a difference.” She hands me the pills. “Drink.”
I obey, downing the water and medication while trying not to vomit. “I called him,” I say quietly.
“You did.” She nods.
“I told him everything.”
“You did.” She smirks.
“I said I loved him.”
“You absolutely did. It was very romantic. In a drunk, word-vomity kind of way.” Riley sits on the edge of the couch. “Do you remember what he said?”
“He said ...” I close my eyes, trying to recall through the alcohol fog. “He said he loved me too.”
“He did.”
“And I’m moving there.”
“We are.”
“Holy shit.” I open my eyes. “Riley, what did I do?”
“You told him how you feel. You decided your future.” She grins. “You were actually pretty badass.”
“I was drunk.”
“Also, true. But, babe, you meant every word. Drunk or not, that was all real.”
My phone buzzes.
JAX: Good morning, princess. How’s the head?
My heart does that stupid flipping thing.
SLOANE: I’m dying. Tequila was a mistake.
JAX: But the phone call wasn’t?
SLOANE: I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to drunk dial and word vomit all over you.
JAX: Don’t apologize. That was the best phone call I’ve ever gotten. Drunk or not.
SLOANE: I meant what I said. Just wish I’d said it sober.
JAX: Then say it again. Right now. Sober.
I stare at my phone, my hands shaking.
Riley is watching me. “What’s he saying?”
“He wants me to say it again. Sober.”
“So, say it,” she urges.
“What if …”
“No what ifs. You love him. He loves you. Just say it,” she yells at me.
I take a shaky breath and type.
SLOANE: I love you. I’m in love with you. And I’m terrified but also sure about this. About us. About moving there and seeing where this goes.
His response comes immediately.
JAX: I love you too. So, fucking much. When can I see you?
My heart races.
SLOANE: Soon. I promise.
JAX: How soon?
I look at Riley. “What day is it?”
“December twenty-fourth. Christmas Eve,” she says.
Christmas Eve.
My chest tightens as an idea forms.
“I need to go,” I say suddenly.
“Go where?”
“To Silver Valley. To Jax. I need to see him. Today.”
Riley’s face breaks into a huge grin. “Finally. Yes. Go. What are you waiting for?”
“I look like death. I smell like a brewery. I haven’t showered. I …”
“Sloane. Go shower. I’ll make you coffee and toast. You’ll be on the road in an hour.” She pulls me up from the couch. “This is happening. You’re going to him.”
“It’s Christmas Eve. What if he has plans? What if …”
“Then you’ll be part of his plans. Now move. Shower. Go.”
Twenty-five minutes later, I’m showered, caffeinated, and dressed in jeans and a soft sweater. My hair is still damp, I’m wearing minimal makeup, and I probably still look hungover, but I don’t care.
I’m going to Jax.
Maggie shows up just as I’m packing an overnight bag.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“Silver Valley to see Jax.”
Her face lights up. “About damn time.”
“I know. I’m sorry I’ve been such a mess lately.”
“Stop apologizing.” She hugs me tightly. “You weren’t ready. Now you are. That’s all that matters.”
“I told him I loved him last night … while drunk.”
“I know. I was there. It was beautiful and sloppy and perfect.”
“And now I’m going to show up at his farm on Christmas Eve like some kind of stalker.”
“You’re going to show up like a woman who knows what she wants.” Maggie pulls back. “Be brave, Sloane. You’ve come this far. Don’t stop now.”
Riley hands me a travel mug of coffee and the little cabin ornament. “For luck. And also, because you’re going to need this for your tree when you move there.”
“I don’t have a tree.”
“You will.” She grins. “Now go. Before I get emotional and ruin my makeup.”
I hug them both, grab my bag, and head for the door.
“Text us when you get there,” Riley calls after me.
“And send pictures,” Maggie adds.
“Of what?”
“Of him. Of you guys together. Of your happy ending!”
I’m laughing as I get to my car, toss my bag in the back, and slide behind the wheel.
This is it.
This is really happening.
I pull out my phone.
SLOANE: Can I come see you today?
The response is immediate.
JAX: Yes. Please. When?
SLOANE: I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in two hours.
JAX: You’re coming here? Now?
SLOANE: Is that okay? I know it’s Christmas Eve and you probably have plans …
JAX: I need to see you stat. Get here. Now. I don’t care what you look like. Just get here.
SLOANE: Okay. I’m on my way.
JAX: Drive safe. Text me when you’re close. Sloane?
SLOANE: Yeah?
JAX: I love you and can’t wait to see you.
My eyes sting with happy tears.
SLOANE: I can’t wait to see you either. I love you.
I set my phone in the holder, start the car, and pull onto the highway.
The drive to Silver Valley is both the longest and shortest two hours of my life.
The morning is clear and cold, the kind of perfect winter day that makes everything sparkle.
The mountains in the distance are snow-capped and beautiful, and Christmas music plays softly from my speakers.
I think about the last time I made this drive.
Broken and running from Chett. Lost, scared, and not knowing where I was going. Now I know exactly where I’m going.
I’m going home.
My phone buzzes with texts as I drive, and I have the car read them to me.
RILEY: How’s it going? Have you gotten there yet? Don’t text and drive but also keep us updated.
MAGGIE: Ignore Riley. Drive safe. We love you.
RILEY: I’m not being impatient. I’m being invested in your happiness.
MAGGIE: You’re being annoying.
RILEY: Same thing.
I smile, shaking my head at them.
An hour into the drive, my phone buzzes again.
JAX: Where are you?
SLOANE: About an hour away.
JAX: Just checking. Making sure you’re real and this isn’t some cruel dream.
SLOANE: This is real.
JAX: Good. Because I’m losing my mind over here.
SLOANE: In a good way?
JAX: In the best way. The chickens are very excited to meet you.
SLOANE: Just the chickens?
JAX: I mean, I’m also slightly excited.
SLOANE: Only slightly …
JAX: You got me. I’m fucking thrilled. I’ve been pacing the porch since your call.
The image of him pacing makes me smile so wide my cheeks hurt.
Thirty minutes out, the snow starts falling.
Light at first, then heavier. But not dangerous.
Just beautiful, like the universe is adding to the moment.
My hands are shaking on the wheel. Not from nerves about driving in this weather.
From anticipation. I’m about to see him.
After weeks of texts, phone calls, and keeping things surface-level.
After a drunken confession and a sober one. I’m about to see Jax.
Fifteen minutes away, I pass the sign for Silver Valley. Population 3,247. This is going to be my town. My home.
I drive through the main square, and it’s exactly as charming as all the photos.
Small shops decorated for Christmas. Lights strung across the street.
A big tree in the center with people taking photos.
I can see our business. The gift shop and coffee house.
The windows are dark now, but I can imagine what it’ll look like when we open. When it’s ours.
My phone buzzes.
JAX: Are you close?
SLOANE: Five minutes.
JAX: Okay. Okay. I’m going to try to act normal and not like I’ve been waiting for this moment forever.
SLOANE: How’s that going?
JAX: Terribly. I’m a mess. Fair warning.
SLOANE: Good. Me too.
I follow the directions to his farm, my heart pounding harder with each turn.
And then I see it.
The Reid Farm sign.
The long driveway.
The farmhouse with smoke coming from the chimney and lights in the windows.
And Jax.
He’s standing on the porch, exactly like he said. In jeans and a flannel shirt and a jacket, his hands shoved in his pockets, his breath visible in the cold air.
Watching for me.
I pull up next to his truck and put the car in park with trembling hands.
This is it.
No more hiding. No more being scared.
I get out of the car, and for a moment we just stand there looking at each other. He looks exactly like I remember, but also better somehow. His hair is slightly longer. There’s stubble on his jaw. Those hazel eyes are warm and bright and locked on me like I’m the only person in the world.
“Hi,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Hi,” he says back, and his voice is rough with emotion.
And then we’re both moving.
I don’t know who moves first. Maybe both of us at the same time.
But suddenly, I’m running toward him, and he’s coming down the porch steps, and then his arms are around me and I’m home.
He lifts me up, spinning me around, and I’m laughing and crying at the same time, my face buried in his neck, breathing him in.
“You’re here,” he says against my hair. “You’re really here.”
“I’m here.”
“You came.”
“Of course I came. I love you.” The words come out easily now. Natural. Right.
He sets me down but doesn’t let go, his hands framing my face as he looks at me. “Say it again.”