SLOAN
“It’s your ex,” Kyle whispered.
What the fuck?
How in the hell did he find me?
“I don’t understand—” Her eyes widened, anger coursing through her hotly. “Did you tell Davy I was here?”
“What?” Kyle brows snapped together. “No, I—” He stepped back toward her, palms up. “No. I didn’t. What do you want me to do?”
She’d deal with the sting of her accusation later . . . if he was telling the truth. And even if he was, she hadn’t actually asked him not to tell Davy, she’d just assumed he’d read her mind.
Either way, she had bigger things to worry about.
Like what I’m going to tell Evan.
Another knock rattled the cabin.
“Do you have to answer?”
Kyle crossed his arms. “Between my car parked outside and smoke coming out of the chimney, he knows someone’s here. If I don’t answer, he’ll probably keep knocking until he wakes up a bear.”
“Well, can you find out what he wants?” She stood up from the bed and grabbed the first pants she saw—a pair of his sweatpants from the heap on the floor.
She yanked them on, rolling the waistband twice to keep them from falling off her hips.
“He might not know I’m here, if you didn’t say anything. ”
Kyle stared at her for half a second. “You are wearing my sweatpants.”
“That’s not the crisis,” she hissed, fully and now painfully aware that she was fully garbed in Kyle’s clothing.
His mouth twitched, barely. “I’m assuming you don’t want to talk to him either way.”
Do I? She hadn’t really had enough time to think about it but . . . if Evan found her in the cabin of an ex-boyfriend, dressed like this, the conclusions he would come to would be hard to give her the moral high ground.
“No, I don’t.”
He gestured with two fingers. “Then hide.”
Hide? Hide where? She turned in a circle, darting toward the small table, then stopped abruptly. Nope . That was in view of the door.
She crouched by the stove, heart slamming.
Kyle released a slow sigh and shook his head at her. “The bathroom didn’t occur as the immediate best option?”
She glared at him, pressing a finger to her lips. Jackass.
Kyle went toward the door and opened it like he owned the place. Not like a man who was currently hosting a runaway bride. “What’s up?” Kyle asked, leaning against the doorframe with the kind of relaxed posture that suggested he’d never been afraid of anyone in his life.
“Morning.” Evan’s voice was polite, and it made her skin crawl. “Sorry to bother you so early, but I’m looking for my fiancée. Petite blonde. About five-four.” A beat. “You haven’t seen her by any chance, have you?”
She released a slow, silent breath, the pressure around her chest lessening. Then he doesn’t know I’m here.
“Uh . . . nope,” Kyle said easily. “Sorry. Have you tried one of the other cabins?”
“I asked at the other occupied ones.” Evan’s tone remained calm, but there was a sharp edge underneath it now. “No luck. It’s just”—another pause—“the last known location of her phone was near here.”
Sloan almost gasped.
Oh God. I didn’t even think of that.
Of course, Evan would try to track her phone like that.
And she’d practically led him straight to Kyle. If she hadn’t lost her phone outside, she would have led him straight to this cabin and Kyle wouldn’t be able to deny it.
How could I be so stupid?
“Huh.” He sounded mildly interested, like Evan had mentioned a weird bird species. The floorboards creaked as Kyle shifted. “Sorry, man, I can’t help you. It’s just me here.”
“Of course.” Evan’s voice tightened. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”
“No worries. Good luck.”
Sloan sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall as Kyle shut the door. Letting out a shaky breath, she closed her eyes, heart still pounding. “Thank you,” she whispered as Kyle came back toward her.
Kyle didn’t look triumphant. He looked uneasy. His arms crossed, biceps hardening under the fabric of his shirt, his jaw working like he was choosing his words carefully. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I’m not sure about that.”
“What?” She peered at him.
Kyle squatted beside her. Close enough that his arm nearly brushed against hers.
“I’m not sure I did you any favors. I mean, he’s looking for you.
He can’t find you. It’s one thing for you to leave and not want to talk to him—that makes sense.
But if you didn’t tell anyone where you were going and you vanish into thin air?
That might lead to problems. It might just have been better to tell him you’re here and don’t want to talk to him. ”
“That’s because you don’t know him. It would be a bigger problem if you told him I was here,” Sloan snapped, anger flaring again because it was easier than panic. “He would’ve accused both of us of something, but he wouldn’t have left without forcing me to talk to him.”
Kyle’s gaze held hers. “I’m not on his side.” His voice dropped. “Not even remotely. I’m just saying you’re going to have to talk to him sometime. It doesn’t have to be today obviously—”
“Perfect.” She stood abruptly. “Then we agree. Not today. Now you can drop it.” She searched around for her bag, irritation rolling off her in waves. She shouldn’t be angry with Kyle. So why was she?
He dragged a hand down his face, tiredness still in his features. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I just think it might be smart to let someone know you’re okay.”
“I did. I’m here, right?” She crossed her arms.
He gave her a look. “Someone other than me.”
“If I know everyone, besides Evan—who won’t want to be embarrassed today—no one will be that stressed about where I’ve gone.”
At his raised brow, she huffed and said, “Fine. My wedding planner will be, but that’s literally her job. Honestly, Evan was already acting like our wedding today was getting in the way of his skiing. His friends will be happy to go out on fresh powder rather than dress up in tuxes.”
Kyle stood slowly. “Why in the hell were you marrying that guy then? He sounds like an asshole.”
Sloan’s mouth opened. Then shut.
She didn’t have a clean answer. The answer was messy and embarrassing and probably wouldn’t make her look completely sane.
“I—” Sloan dug her fingers through her hair and paused, her hand settling on top of her head.
“He is. He’s kind of an asshole. But he was my asshole, I guess.
I don’t know. I mean, the signs were there, but you know .
. . it’s hard to throw away your life and start over.
Walking out of that hotel was one of the more terrifying things I’ve done. ”
His eyes glittered but he didn’t respond.
Still, she was certain she read judgment from his expression.
Defensiveness snapped up like a shield and she scowled.
“What do you know? You’re proudly single.
Don’t judge me for wanting to marry and build a life with someone I dated for four years.
We had a life together—friends, a house, plans.
” She swallowed, then the thought hit her like a physical blow. “A dog.”
She dragged her hand back down her face. Sadie. What in the hell was going to happen with Sadie? “Oh, no, my dog. I need to go get my dog before he won’t let me have her.”
Kyle’s jaw clenched. “Sloan.”
“What?”
“Do you have any idea how fucked up this sounds to an outsider?” His voice stayed controlled, but steel threaded it now.
“Your fiancé cheats on you, but you’re afraid to talk to him.
You don’t feel safe talking to anyone you love about it.
He’s tracking you. And now you’re afraid that if you don’t go get your dog, he’s going to keep her like a hostage? ”
A cold nausea rolled through her. “I don’t mean it like that.”
“Then how do you mean it?” Kyle asked quietly. “Because from where I’m standing . . . it worries me. I know he’s a congressman . . . are you scared of him?”
“No, no, that’s not it. I’ll be fine.” Any desire to talk about it with him was quickly dying, though. He doesn’t get it. He’ll never get it.
Kyle exhaled, long and slow. “Okay. So, how can I help?” He paused. “You want to, what? Go home and get your dog?”
She nodded.
“Where’s home?”
“Bozeman. But I don’t have my ID. I left it in the hotel.”
He searched her face and she could see it there on the tip of his tongue—the comment about how this would all be a lot easier if she would just put her big girl pants on and go back to the hotel, get her things, face Evan.
And maybe she was being stupid about it. Maybe she should go back. But for whatever reason, every instinct inside her screamed not to. Running away last night had already been hard enough. If she went back now, would she have the strength to walk away again?
“Do you want me to drive you there?”
She ducked her chin at him. “You’d drive me to Montana?”
He shrugged, like driving runaway brides across state lines was an average Tuesday. “Sure, why not?”
A thousand reasons. Starting with the fact that we’re not friends, really.
They were barely . . . well, she wasn’t really sure what they were.
What did you call someone who used to know you better than anyone in the world, who’d laughed and cried with you, had sex with you, dreamed with you .
. . and then went out of your life? Not strangers.
Not acquaintances, either. And exes didn’t really seem right either, given how young they’d been.
An ex was someone like Evan.
Kyle was . . . the old boyfriend whose number I could never bring myself to delete from my phone.
She blinked the thought away, trying to remember what they’d been discussing.
Why he shouldn’t drive me to Montana.
“It’s a whole day of driving.”
“Probably about twelve or thirteen hours, depending on how the roads are with the weather. We might have to stop overnight, but it’s doable. I do eighteen-hour drives regularly.”
“What about your job?”
“My job is pretty flexible. I don’t have anything scheduled for a few weeks.”
She bit her lip. The state of this rental didn’t speak to a great career. Was he a truck driver or something? “What do you do?”
His grin was almost shy, like it embarrassed him to say it out loud. “I’m a travel influencer.”
She stared. “You?” she blurted.
He chuckled. “Shocking, I know. I have a whole YouTube show and everything.”
“And you . . . make money off that?”
“Enough that I don’t have to do anything else anyway.” He moved back toward the bed and gathered his clothes from the floor. Then he added, pointedly casual, “So if you want, I’m available to drive.”
“I’m sorry, that was rude.” Heat crept into her cheeks.
“It was a fair question.”
She joined him and helped him pick up his scattered clothes, folding the ones that weren’t already beyond hope. “And you don’t have anything planned for the next couple of weeks?”
“Well,” he said, noncommittal, “sort of. But not exactly.”
She tilted her head.
He lifted his duffel bag onto the bed and stuffed some clothes inside.
“My grandmother died a month ago, and she asked me to take her ashes someplace beautiful and leave her there. So, I was thinking I’d do it here, because she never made it to Colorado, far as I know. But it doesn’t have to be here.”
“Granny?” Sloan asked, eyes widening.
He nodded.
The sadness she felt was immediate and sharp . . . unexpected in the middle of everything else. “Oh.” Her voice softened. “I loved her. I’m so sorry, Kyle.”
His throat bobbed and he looked away. “Happens.”
She knew him well enough to know it wasn’t dismissive, but rather the only thing he could say without cracking open. He’d adored Granny.
She took a shirt from his hands and folded it.
She wanted to say something meaningful, something that could bridge the awkward silence without making it worse.
He probably thought she was vapid and foolish, and she didn’t know if she entirely blamed him for coming to that conclusion, and nothing she could think of really seemed good enough.
“I still remember when she took me shopping for a prom dress,” she finally said quietly, pulling some of Kyle’s stuffed shirts from the duffel bag and folding them.
“Because my mom was so sick from chemo and your mom was still in a wheelchair after her accident. And then she took me to Kilwins for milkshakes.”
Her eyes stung and she blinked back tears, the memory of that time returning with a ferocity she hadn’t expected.
Compared to her own home life, that time with Granny had been like a breath of fresh air.
She’d been kind, funny, warm, and generous.
I hate that Kyle lost such an amazing woman.
But Sloan was thankful that she’d known her.
The man in front of her was a testimony to how kind she had been.
Kyle glanced at her, expression shifting.
“I’m sorry,” she said, a lump rising in her throat. “I’m supposed to be comforting you.” A shaky laugh escaped her. “God, I haven’t even cried about my cheating fiancé and here I am, crying over your grandmother that I haven’t seen in over eight years. I swear, there’s something wrong with me.”
Kyle’s voice was gentle. “Grief’s a weird bastard.” Kyle reached over and took his shirts from her, setting them aside like he didn’t want her to have to keep doing anything. Then he set his hands on her shoulders, light and careful, turning her toward him. “It’s fine. I get it.”
The contact was brief, but it lit a small, alarming warmth under her ribs.
He flicked a glance back at the stove. “Do you want get out of here? I think it’s been a pretty damned miserable night for us both—different reasons, same result. Some hot breakfast and maybe a change of scenery might help.”
She swallowed hard, searching his eyes. “All right.”
“I do have to swing by the hotel or have Davy meet me in town before we leave—she rented a tux for me, and I need to return it—but I can drop you off somewhere or leave you in my car while I do that.” He added dryly, “But, uh, obviously I’m going to need to wait until she actually sends me a message that there’s no wedding today, because I didn’t tell her I knew you and I’m not supposed to have any way of knowing about the missing bride before her. ”
Her heart sped up. A morning traipsing around Vail seemed a bit risky if she wanted to avoid being seen but, then again, she’d know the places that Evan and his friends wouldn’t be likely to look for her.
And the town was big. Maybe she could hide under a hat, wear some sunglasses, and keep her hair hidden . . .
Then she looked up sharply. “Okay. I know exactly where I want to go first.”