“You’re a pain in the ass,” I tell Grace, pulling her into a tight hug.
She laughs into my shoulder. “And you’re a mess. But you’remymess.”
I pull back and glance toward the parking lot, where the crowd is starting to thin.
Julian Heart and Sloane have to be somewhere out there.
I picture her leaning into him, small, shaken.
I can’t leave her like that.
I can’t let her believe I disappeared—that I walked away when things got har.
“Go,” Grace says, giving me a push. “I’m hunting for free food. You go get your girl.”
I nod.
I draw a breath, square my shoulders, and start walking.
I won’t be my father.
I’ll be better.
And I’ll prove it—even if it takes everything I’ve got.
65
Heart to Heart
Sloane
My dad doesn’t say a word as he guides me away from the crowd, the pink bus, and the cameras circling like vultures, desperate for a tearjerker shot.
He keeps an arm around my shoulders—a solid, familiar weight that makes me feel five years old again. Scraped knee. Absolute certainty that Dad can fix anything.
We stop behind a cluster of fir trees, where the snow is still untouched and the noise of the party reaches us muffled, like it belongs to another world.
He turns to face me.
His blue eyes—the same ones I see in the mirror every morning—scan me with a precision you can’t escape. He’s not checking for bruises or sprains.
He’s looking for cracks.
“Dad, I’m really fine,” I lie. My voice comes out thin, unconvincing. “It’s just the stress of the show. The cameras. The competition.”
He shakes his head slowly.
“Sloane. I changed your diapers. I taught you how to drive. I watched you cry over a bad grade and a stupid boy. Do you really think I can’t tell when my girl’s falling apart?”
My lower lip trembles. I bite it hard to stop it.
Guilt hits me like a wave—sharp and awful.
“You should be home,” I whisper. “You should be with Mom. Why are you here? Is… is everything okay between you two?”
The question slips out with a thread of panic. After that conversation in the kitchen with my mom, the fear that they’re splitting up has never fully left me.
Dad’s face softens. A crease of amusement—maybe tenderness—appears at the corner of his eyes.
