39. Sloan
SLOAN
The house was dark as Sloan pulled up in the driveway—not even the porch light on.
She frowned, rubbing the back of her neck as she stared up at the windows. If Kyle had installed the curtain rods and blinds, she couldn’t see them from here.
Just . . . no lights on.
Which was strange, because Kyle’s truck was here.
Worry skipped through her mind, and she shoved it away. She’d answered his text after the plane had landed but hadn’t gotten anything since. And her call went straight to voicemail.
Maybe she should have called him before leaving San Francisco. She’d wanted to surprise him, and anyway, she didn’t need to be picked up because she’d left her car in long-term parking. But now she was worried.
She got out of the car, leaving her suitcase in the trunk.
The dogs heard her before she even opened the storm door, their barks sounding at the door. She was welcomed by a waggle of tails and hopping dogs, and even though she could barely see, she greeted them with hugs.
Standing, she flipped on the light above the foyer and then closed the door. “Kyle?”
Silence.
She went up the stairs. “Kyle?”
The door to her bedroom opened, then Kyle came out into the hall.
He stared at her, as though she were a ghost, and her gut dropped hard. His eyes were red and swollen, his face distressed as though he’d been crying. “You’re back,” he said, voice rough and deep.
“Of course I’m back,” she said, taking a faltering step toward him. “This is our home.”
The word slipped out before she realized what she’d said, but Kyle clocked it right away.
“Our?”
“I mean—” Her heart jumped. Just say, oops, I made a mistake.
Then something more stubborn won out. “Yes. Our . Yours and mine, Kyle. And the dogs, too.” She took yet another step. “I’m home. Where else was I going to go?”
Kyle answered by coming down the hallway, closing the gap between them with an urgency she hadn’t expected. He caught her in his arms, swift and strong, his mouth descending on hers with unrestrained passion as his hands tangled into her hair at the nape of her neck and back of her head.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, her breath stolen away as she sagged against him, slightly off balance and body sparking to life.
His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, sending lightning straight down her spine, and her mouth parted for his, meeting him kiss for kiss, breath for breath, tongues colliding with need and want, heat and desire.
Dizzy, she wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself and pressed the length of her body hard against him.
As if there were any other option.
I’ve missed this man. Not once, when Evan had gone on work trips, had she felt as relieved to be held, to be in his presence again. If anything, there’d always been a slight stab of unease. But Kyle? With Kyle, she felt she was home.
She pulled away and cupped his cheeks. “Are you okay? Have you been crying? What happened?”
“I’m fine—just . . .” He cleared his throat, stepping back.
“No.” She gave him a firm look. “No, I’m fine. Tell me. Because I love you and I want to help. Please.”
He lifted his gaze, his eyes warming at her words. “I opened the letter Granny left me a couple of hours ago. Read it a few times.” He moistened his lips. “I was supposed to read it when I scattered her ashes, but I haven’t . . .”
Oh . . .
She wrapped her arms around him without hesitation. “I’m so sorry. Grief is so hard, and it never goes away completely, no matter how much time passes. But something like that definitely rips the scab off and makes it hurt all over again.”
“If you’ve ever let it scab in the first place,” he said softly.
“True.” She squeezed him and stepped back. “To be honest, I don’t know if you’ve ever really let yourself grieve. And it’s partially my fault. I got in the way of your plans to lay her to rest and then—”
“It’s not your fault. I wasn’t ready. I was grateful for the excuse to put it off, even if I couldn’t admit it.”
She regarded him closely. “And you’re ready now?”
“Nope.” He gave her a grim smile. “But I’m working on it.” He studied the floor, his demeanor shifting as though he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Then he added, “You didn’t call me enough.”
Was that what this was about? Maybe she should have known. He was sensitive about that sort of thing.
“I’m sorry.”
“Scared the shit out of me, Sloan.”
Then she understood.
He’d been afraid . . . afraid that she was running from him again.
She deserved that. He was insecure about how she felt about him—not that she blamed him, given how much she’d hurt him and broken his trust before.
Her breath hitched, and she grabbed his hands and squeezed them. “I’m never going to hurt you like that again, Kyle. I promised you that, and I mean it.”
He searched her eyes for a few more seconds. “Still should have called.”
“You’re right, I should have, but I was trying to spend as much time with my dad and Penny as possible, and I lost track of time a lot.”
He quirked his eyebrow, questioning her words.
“Come on,” she said, tugging him down the hall. “Let’s talk.”
That provoked a wary look, and she smiled. “Not a bad talk. I just have a lot to tell you about my trip.” She led him, flipping on some lights along the way. She brought him toward the kitchen. “Did you eat dinner yet? I’m starved.”
“There’s not a lot to eat.”
She cocked her head to the side and opened the pantry. “There’s not a lot that’s ready to eat, but there’s plenty of food, you helpless man. What, have you been surviving off pizza and carry-out?”
“No,” he said, lips twitching.
She gave him a sharp look.
“Yes.” He rested his hands against the counter. “But that’s nothing new. How’s Penny?”
Sloan fished out a couple of cans of crushed tomatoes and set them on the counter. For the first time in years, her heart didn’t have the same heaviness when someone asked her that question—even though Penny was still very sick.
“She’s doing as well as can be expected. Responding great to the transplant, so that’s good. And she’s in good spirits. Lost all her hair and she’s making jokes about looking like Mr. Clean, so that’s progress.”
“And your dad?”
Sloan smiled as she pulled out a can opener. “Good. Really good.” She clipped the can opener to the side of the can and started twisting it. “Actually, we had some amazing talks while we were there. You know how I told you years ago that my dad got rid of all my mom’s stuff?”
He settled into a stool at the counter. “Yeah, I remember.”
The way he said it made her heart hurt. If he remembered, then he also probably remembered that she’d told him about it only a week before she’d dumped him. But it also mattered that he understood what had happened better.
“Well,” she said, pushing past the bad memory, “it turns out that his definition of getting rid of it didn’t mean that he threw it all out like I thought he did.” She set the can opener down and walked over to her purse, then fished out a key. “He put it in storage. Here in Nashville.”
Kyle gave her a startled look. “So, he didn’t throw stuff out?”
“Nope.”
“Then why not just tell you he put it in storage?”
“I don’t know. He thinks he was so depressed and frazzled he didn’t even connect the dots that when I yelled at him for getting rid of it—which were the exact terms he used—that I meant I thought he threw them in the trash.
Dad really shut down after Mom died, apparently.
To an extent he never told me about. We did a lot of crying together this last week, making up for lost time.
And it made me realize how much that wrecked me when I was young. How badly I took it out on you.”
He lowered his gaze. “That’s great about finally turning a corner with your dad, though.”
“Yeah, I think so.” Sloan set the key into the basket she’d set out and went back to the tomato cans.
She fished out a saucepan and dumped them in, then went over to her spice rack.
“And I made progress with Penny, too.” She’d told him about when Penny had discovered her cancer before she’d left for San Francisco.
“Well, I hope so. You did just donate stem cells to her.”
True. Sloan shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s sort of the minimum siblings should do for each other if they can, right?” She grabbed some basil, salt, and crushed red pepper. “But we talked about not being there for each other three years ago. And she forgave me, which, I really needed.”
Kyle frowned. “I’m glad she forgave you, but you really can’t be that hard on yourself either, Sloan. You were sick too, just in a different way.”
“She apologized for being mad at me too. So, baby steps. I’m happy.” She drizzled olive oil into the mixture then took out a head of garlic and peeled a clove.
“What are you making?” Kyle asked, leaning over the counter as she stirred.
“Spaghetti sauce.”
“From scratch?” He furrowed his brow.
“Is there any other way?” she asked with a laugh.
“My mom always opened a jar. Speaking of which . . . can we have my family over this weekend? I forgot my mom’s birthday, and I wouldn’t mind getting them together with you. I mean, if you’re up to it, of course. You’ve had a tough few weeks.”
Sloan’s heart gave a nervous flutter, then she set the saucepan on the stove and covered it.
She didn’t tease Kyle about forgetting his mom’s birthday, as it sounded like her poor communication with him had obviously distressed him more than she imagined.
She did latch onto the fact that he wanted her to be part of his family again.
“You want me to hang out with your family?” she asked as casually as possible.
He nodded. “If you don’t mind.”
Setting the sauce to simmer, she gave it all a stir with a wooden spoon, covered it, and then turned back toward him. She gave him a coy look. “Does that mean you like me ?”
Kyle drew his brows together, puzzled.
Then, because he hadn’t answered, she made a slow trace of her tongue along the wooden spoon, watching as heat burned in his eyes immediately. “Mmm . . . this is good. I’m so hungry.”