KYLE
Maybe it had been how broken Sloan seemed. Or the way she’d blinked those pretty big brown eyes up at him like he was the last functional adult within a fifty-mile radius. Maybe it was the fact that some stupid part of him still responded to her like he was nineteen and didn’t know any better.
Suddenly he was a sucker all over again, saying yes when yes was an objectively terrible idea.
Try as he might, he couldn’t find it in him to politely disentangle himself from the mess she was dragging him into.
The absurdity of it—her turning to him, him agreeing, both of them pretending this wasn’t insane—hadn’t fully hit him until he was sitting in a diner near Lionshead Square, waiting for Davy to finish placing her order like they were having a normal Saturday morning.
Normal.
He’d filmed an episode about Vail and Breckenridge for the Travelog Channel a couple of years ago with Tomas.
Davy had been here for that, too, because they were friends.
Real friends. The kind that survived airports and deadlines and shared bathrooms on shoots and eating questionable foods that looked like they’d been sitting under heaters for too long.
Yet, when Davy had texted him about the change of plans for the day and suggested they meet up for breakfast, he’d somehow managed to text, oh really? bro, that’s nuts without so much as a flinch.
So. Clearly. Great at lying.
“Can I have your menu?” the server asked, yanking him out of his thoughts.
“Yeah, sure,” Kyle said, handing it over as he caught the server’s eyes.
She did a double take. “Wait. Are you . . . oh my God, I know you! You’re that guy on the internet, right? The travel guy.”
“I’m that guy ,” he said dryly. One of the more interesting aspects of internet fame. He’d reached a point where he was recognizable to people on social media but not well known enough that they actually knew his name.
“Can I get a selfie?” the server asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Sure.” He leaned toward her as she whipped out her phone.
“My friends aren’t going to believe this,” she said, grinning beside him and snapping the picture with the triumphant energy of someone who had just caught a rare Pokémon.
As the server walked away, he met Davy’s eyes. She shook her head, slowly. “I’m so proud.” She dabbed her eyes at imaginary tears. “You’re basically a household name now.”
“Yeah. Known as that guy. ” He sighed. “One day I might even get a free coffee. Until then, I’ll continue to live as a peasant.”
Davy snorted and sipped her water. Then her expression sobered. “Thanks so much for meeting me. The hotel is chaos. Everyone is just walking around whispering gossip that’s mutating by the second. It’s nuts.”
“So.” Kyle cleared his throat, the words choking him. “What happened?”
“No one knows.” Davy sipped her ice water. “Sloan just vanished. Evan’s this close to filing a missing persons report. He’s absolutely gutted.”
Missing persons report?
Kyle held still, using every ounce of his willpower to keep from cringing visibly.
“He’s . . . upset?” he managed.
“Of course he is.” Davy’s face was earnest. “Wouldn’t you be? And they’re such a perfect couple. He completely dotes on her.”
The way he dotes on his side chick? “Well,” he said carefully, “obviously something must have been wrong behind the scenes, or she wouldn’t have taken off.”
“Yeah, but that’s the thing,” Davy said, leaning forward conspiratorially. She lowered her voice like she was about to tell him the plot twist in a thriller. “What if she didn’t leave? Evan thinks that she might have been taken.”
He nearly choked. “Taken. Like . . . kidnapped?”
“Don’t say it like it’s insane,” Davy hissed. “He is a congressman, after all.”
“I’m not saying it’s insane. I’m saying it’s less likely than her leaving.”
“The night before her wedding?”
“What if she just went skiing? Or for a hike or something?”
“She’s not outdoorsy,” Davy said with absolute conviction, as if she’d personally witnessed Sloan recoil from a pine cone. “Mr. Tipton told my dad she left a note with her ring, but Evan didn’t mention it to me. So, who knows.”
“If she left a note, then she probably wasn’t kidnapped, though. I’d say that’s pretty solid evidence.”
The server arrived back with their coffees and Kyle sat back in his seat, grateful for the interruption. If Davy knew where Sloan was right this minute—at a beauty salon a few streets away with his credit card—Davy would murder him with her bare hands.
And much as he wanted to respect Sloan’s privacy, Davy was his friend now.
Not the girl he’d have sold his soul to kiss ten years ago when he’d first spotted her selling cake pops in the parking lot at homecoming.
Once this trip to Montana ended, they’d return to being exes and go their separate ways.
He didn’t want to lose his friendship with Davy over this. Or his job. Davy was too tied into his work for that not to ripple outward and wreck things.
Also, Sloan hadn’t technically asked him not to tell Davy. But Sloan shouldn’t have to spell out please don’t tell the one person at this wedding you know who can blow up my entire life in under thirty seconds.
But the last thing that would help this situation was more lies.
Kyle flattened his palms against the tabletop, hanging his head like he was physically bracing. “All right, I have a confession to make.” A beat. “But you have to swear to me you’re not going to breathe a word of it to anyone until the right moment.”
Davy paused in the middle of tearing a sugar packet. “What?”
He released a slow breath through puffed cheeks, trying to think of the best way of putting this. Is there a best way of putting this?
No, probably not.
Better just get it out.
He looked up. “Uh, so, turns out, funny story . . . I actually know Sloan.”
Davy’s brows furrowed.
He rolled his shoulders, sitting straighter. “She was my girlfriend. In high school. Long time ago.”
The air between them thickened with tension as Davy stared at him like he’d announced he was secretly Canadian. “What?”
“Yeah.” Kyle gave her a pained grin. “Crazy, right? What are the odds?” Kyle grabbed some sugar, the sudden need to do something with his hands fueling him. He dumped it in his coffee, stirring.
“Anyway,” he continued, “we only talked for a minute or so at the rehearsal dinner, but then last night, she called out of the blue, and ended up at my cabin—”
“Oh my God,” Davy blurted. “You had sex with her.”
“No.” Kyle jerked back. “No. Absolutely not .”
Davy’s eyes narrowed. “Kyle.”
“I did not sleep with her,” he repeated, voice rising. “This is not a Hallmark movie with a happy reunion of star-crossed lovers.”
“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that you’re supposed to go after the bridesmaids? Not the bride? I’ve seen you make some questionable choices after a late night of drinking before, Kyle Winnick, but this—”
“I swear. On Granny’s gr—urn.” Kyle held his hands up. “That’s not where I was going with this.”
That seemed to mollify her.
He scrubbed his face, cheeks hot. “Um, okay. So. She’s alive.
She’s safe. But she’s fine. Well, not fine.
Something happened— not between us. But between her and Evan, and she doesn’t want to go back.
She’s not comfortable talking to him, or really to anyone, and fuck, this sounds really bad, doesn’t it? ”
“Yeah.” Davy crossed her arms, staring at him. “It does.”
“Listen.” Kyle chugged some coffee, as though it could fix this. Why did I say anything? Davy is Evan’s friend. She’s going to run right to him. “We’re friends, right?”
“I don’t know, I’m suddenly rethinking that arrangement.”
Kyle shot her a sharp look and she huffed out, “Yes, we’re friends.”
“I need you to trust me, Davy. Their relationship isn’t what you think, and it’s good that she left. But, I need you to just keep this yourself right now.”
Davy made a sound of pain. “Kyle.”
“I’m doing my best to convince her she needs to call the guy and talk to him, but that’s between them not us. I’m not trying to interfere, but she asked for my help and I just—”
“Well, that I know. You’re a fucking do-gooder, Kyle.” Davy slumped back.
Kyle lifted his brows. “Is that a compliment?”
“Not right now it isn’t. How in the hell do you expect me not to say anything? Everyone at the hotel is talking about it. Everyone. I’m supposed to just sit there and act like I don’t know a thing? Do you have any idea what will happen if Evan finds out that I knew and said nothing?”
“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t?”
Davy set her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands. “I could kill you for this.”
“Fair.”
She peeked at him. “And you swear you didn’t sleep with her?”
“Nothing happened. I promise. And nothing will happen.”
“She’s awfully pretty, Kyle.”
“But I’m not that much of an idiot.”
“Jury’s still out.”
“Also, she dumped me pretty badly years ago. I’m not stepping into the same waters twice.”
Davy shifted her hands behind her neck, massaging her shoulders. “She’s from Nashville? I wouldn’t have guessed. She’s so posh.”
“She’s nothing like the girl I knew.” He sipped his coffee and gave her a hard look. “You have to promise me you won’t say anything to Evan until she’s ready to talk.”
“I can’t promise that,” Davy said flatly.
His gut dropped.
“I can’t,” she defended with a grimace. “He’s my friend. I’ve known him my whole life. And you know what happened with Isla a few years ago. I learned my lesson. I won’t compromise my friendships like that ever again.”
Could he blame her? He’d used the same reasoning to tell Davy this, after all.
She blew out a breath. “I will promise not to say anything for now . But do your best to get her to talk to him sooner rather than later, because if my family finds out I knew more than I let on . . .” Her mouth tightened. “It’ll be a problem.”
His thumb tapped against the rim of his mug. She wasn’t wrong. They were both trapped in a mess that wasn’t theirs. “All right. But if you do find yourself compelled to tell him, can you give me a heads-up first? Just . . . so I can find a way to tell her that I told you?”
“I can do that.”
The server brought their food, and Kyle stared at the home fries on his plate like they might offer wisdom, his stomach churning.
Had he made the wrong call by telling Davy? He’d felt guilty about not telling her, of course, but now he’d roped her into the same trap he was in.
“So, what are you doing today?” Davy asked, spreading butter on a slice of toast.
“I’m driving Sloan to Bozeman.”
Her knife froze in midair. “You are not.”
“Davy—”
“No, don’t Davy me.” She set the knife down with a decisive clink . “Can you just stop and call someone? Like Isla? Or Aiden? Tomas? Your sisters. Your parents— anyone that cares about you and will give you good advice?”
Kyle opened his mouth.
Davy held up a finger. “I’m serious. You’re grieving. You’re not thinking straight.”
“All I’m doing is driving her to her place and dropping her off. Then I’m out.”
“Why are you the one taking her, though? She can get her ass on a plane and fly home.”
He grimaced. “She can’t. She doesn’t have any ID. And she refuses to go back for it.”
“And you don’t think that’s strange?”
“I do think that’s strange, but that’s exactly why I don’t think I’m in a position to question it. If she feels that strongly about not going back to get even her wallet, it’s a good indicator of how desperate she is not to be found right now.”
“Kyle. I’m saying this with all the love in my heart. Don’t be an idiot.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m serious. Didn’t it occur to you that Sloan might be taking advantage of you? She’s got to know you’re one of the good ones.”
Kyle’s mouth twitched. “I love that you said that like it’s a diagnosable condition.”
“I’m serious. The last thing I want is to see you get hurt. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be here.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Gahhhhhhhh. How am I going to tell Evan that I brought Sloan’s ex-boyfriend as my date to the wedding?”
“First of all,” Kyle said, digging his fork into his Western omelet, “you don’t. And second, you had no way of knowing. It’s just a freak coincidence.”
“You don’t even believe in coincidence.”
“Sure I do.” He popped a bite into his mouth, the warm flavor of butter and eggs more comforting than he’d imagined it would be. “Sometimes things just happen.”
“I don’t think I believ—” Davy paused as her phone rang. “It’s my dad.”
She lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
Kyle chewed another bite, trying to feel better about any of this.
Maybe this was what Sloan had meant by people not understanding.
She’d said very little about her relationship with Evan, if he were honest, and he wasn’t going to pretend he had any great insight into the broken heart of a woman who’d been cheated on.
Elle would, though. Elle had broken up with a man she’d been engaged to because he’d cheated on her. If Kyle remembered correctly, Elle had found out only a few weeks before the wedding. She’d know better than anyone what Sloan was going through.
Maybe I should call my sister about this. She also knows Sloan.
For that matter, Liddy’s husband, Callum, also had experienced a fiancée cheating.
Damn. Maybe Davy’s advice isn’t the worst on the planet.
“Right now? I’m at breakfast with Kyle.”
Kyle glanced at Davy, whose voice had taken a more serious tone.
Davy nodded along with whatever information her father was relaying, her eyes troubled. “All right. I’ll be right there.”
Kyle’s stomach sank.
She scooted to the end of her booth. “I have to go,” she said, taking out her wallet. She tossed a twenty down on the table, then grabbed the tux rental bag he’d brought.
“Something happen?”
Davy frowned, her face drawn. “Convince Sloan to talk to Evan soon, please. For all our sakes. Evan’s filed a missing persons report.”
Kyle stared at her. “Fuck,” he breathed.