“If she only wanted to use you, she could’ve kept lying,” Grace says. “She could’ve played happy couple, won the show, taken the money, and walked away clean. Why blow everything up now? Why risk losing you?”
I think about it.
About the moment behind the chalet.
The way Sloane couldn’t stop shaking.
The way she wouldn’t look at me.
Like saying it out loud might break her in half.
She was terrified.
“Because she couldn’t keep pretending,” I murmur.
Grace nods. “Exactly. Because she cares. Because she doesn’t want something real built on a lie.”
She squeezes my hand again.
“She told you the truth because she respects you, Cohen. And because she’s probably just as scared as you are.”
She tilts her head, studying me.
“She might’ve gone out that night to numb the pain. Fine. But then what? Bringing us to Dominic’s. Helping me. The way she looks at you like you’re the only person in the room?”
Grace snorts softly.
“That’s not fake, Co.”
Something in my chest loosens. Not much—but enough to breathe.
“Listen to me,” she says. “You’re broken? Fine. Welcome to the club. Pick up the pieces. But don’t you dare walk away now.”
She nudges my boot with hers.
“Don’t leave her alone just because you’re scared you’re not enough.”
I look at my sister.
She’s grown. Strong. And somehow a hell of a lot wiser than me.
I stand slowly. The cold has locked my muscles stiff, but there’s warmth under it now—quiet, stubborn.
The jealousy’s still there.
The hurt too.
But there’s something else now.
Not certainty.
Possibility.
Sloane told me the truth knowing it could cost her everything.
And if it’s real—ifthisis real—
then it’s worth fighting for.
