That hair that’s usually so stiff and immovable is soft for once, is a supple mass of pale blonde waves that brush just past her shoulders. “Of course, darlin’. What is it?”
Against the hazy afternoon light, she looks down right angelic. When I first met her, that’s how she looked, too. Like she dropped right out of the sky on a mission, was just missing a trumpet. My knee jerk reaction was to tell myself she was too good to be true. That she was a temptation, a test of my allegiance to Connie.
My teeth tug at my bottom lip as I consider the question, the longing that won’t let up wrapping itself around me the longer I keep it bottled up. “Did it ever scare you, how much you love Beau?”
I rake my fingers tips against my thighs, pulling in a breath as my molars scrape against each other. Worry holds me by the neck, and it’s this silent fear that I’m not built for love. That the intensity of it will always threaten to swallow me whole; that it’s not like this for everyone else.
Evie’s lips twist in a wry smile as she moves to settle next to me. She hums, letting her head fall against mine. “Yes. That’s how I knew. And I told him so. I said ‘if you think you’re leavin’, think again.’ Told him it was a done deal now that he had me lovin’ him that much.”
I stutter on my laughter, the nerves in my gut breaking into butterflies as my skin pricks with anticipation, that hope brushing right behind it. “I can just hear it. And what’d he say?”
“Well there wasn’t much talkin’,” she jeers, knocking an elbow into me as I stifle my giggle. “You’re thinkin’ about that boy, aren’t you?” My brows pinch, wondering what she knowsabout Andy. “Jean stopped by. Told me all about that movie star lookin’ boy of yours.” She sighs, tilting her head. “Baby, I don’t know if it’s love or if it’s forever. But what I do know, just lookin’ at you, is that you’re not done.” She arches her brows at me, her lips tugging expectantly as tears gather at my waterline and I shake my head, sniffing.
“No,” I say, voice thick with emotion. “I’m not done. But—” I pause, my heart swelling in my chest “—but I do know. That I love him.”
I say it to Evie and, suddenly, it’s all I want him to know. All I can do to keep my bones latched at the joints, keep my feet on the ground, keep myself from picking up the phone and just spoiling it, satisfying the urge.
“Mm. I had a feeling,” she grins, standing up and offering me her hand. “Come on then. That flight’s already in the air soyou’vegot a plane to catch.”
Those heavy jet wheels clunk against the runway, hurtling the Fielder Foods private plane through the early evening mist. When I check the clock it’s only five, but my anxiety swears they must be warming up, are already at the venue, and are out of my reach for the foreseeable future. Anticipation churns in my stomach as I deplane, the pilot letting me know he won’t leave the small airport reserved for private use until I call and tell him my plans.
And what is my plan, actually? I haven’t a fucking clue. All that I know is that my mind hasn’t settled since I left Andy in that parking lot, hair clinging to his forehead, agony marked on his beautiful face. It’s the face I’ve seen when I’ve slept, the voice I’ve sworn I’ve heard when awake. I hate that I didn’t stay, that I didn’t fend them off me—hate that Iwasn’t stronger. But I was lost to myself that night, too, was so far gone, had been drinking without rest to near oblivion, and I know Jean was right. I needed to go, even if it meant leaving him alone with demons I wanted nothing more than to shield him from.
Something broke in his gaze when he pleaded with me across the splintered lot, like the perfection he’d fought so hard to mold was shattering in real time. The shouting. The yelling. The betrayal, thick in the damp air. And as I sobbed, I prayed for God to make it matter becausethatwould’ve made it all easier, if he’d cut me so deep. If he’d irreparably sliced through the careful tapestry of this little world, but it just didn’t—he didn’t.
My boots clip against the tiled lobby, the red leather stark against the white squares, fear of the unknown lacing itself through the reckless hope I’m still clinging to. He could turn me away for all I know and I’d deserve it. Would have to accept it but?—
“Sloane?”
My attention flies to him, standing at the front desk with his Astor duffle slung around his shoulder, decidedly not at the venue but here, at the airport. And I’m frozen in place, wholly unprepared for the way my longing would overwhelm me once I saw him again. I watch as his throat bobs, as the muscle in his jaw ticks, and I struggle to make sense of it.
“Oh,” is all I manage to say. “What are the odds?” I ramble, nervously, wetting my lips as my teeth fidget with the plump bottom one. Adrenaline crashes against my sternum, his sudden appearance making it hard for me to get my bearings.
It’s just that he’s so handsome, standing there, eyes fixed on me like the rest of the room doesn’t matter. So perfectly who he was that first night we met only it’s more, because I know him now. Know how all of it is with him, just like he said Iwould. I feel the ghost of his arms around me from across the room, imagine the surety that always seems to wash over me when I rest my head against his chest, when I hear the steady thrum of his heart beneath me.
“What are you doing here?” His bag drops to the ground, an invasive thud in the otherwise quiet space.
“Private jets fly all day,” I joke, before shaking my head, fixing my gaze squarely on him. I walk toward him, and his gaze drops to the ground before finding mine again. There’s nothing timid or restrained—it’s desperate and all consuming, and I swallow against it, trying not to jump the gun. “I came to tell you I’m sorry…for runnin’. For leaving you.”
He shakes his head, stepping towards me. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Sloane. I…I lied to you.”
“You omitted the truth,” I correct him, a small grin playing at the corners of my lips but he’s not ready for it; guilt still slashes through his gaze, tortures him in real time, and I realize I have to let him do this. Have to let him bleed all of it dry before he’ll let me bandage him up.
“I should’ve been honest. As soon as my father asked me to keep tabs on you, I should’ve let you know. And then when things changed…I had no excuse not to tell you other than I was scared. I thought I had it all under control, thought I was handling him.”
I gnaw at my lip, the despair in his gaze like a knife between my ribs.
“I didn’t even let myselfthinkI could have you until it seemed safe.” He closes the distance, taking my hands in his. “But then he threatened my mom, and Carm, and?—”
I slide my hand along his jaw, lay it there to steady him. “I know. I know.”
“I should’ve told you, but I was scared. Scared you’d run, but instead…fuck, I leftyoualone, Sloane. I hate myself for it.”
Connie’s empty living room sprawls in my memory and there’s a small pinch of resentment that releases just as soon as it appears, and I let it go. It falls away like every other thing when he’s holding me like this, when I’m this close to the only soul that’s ever felt perfectly cut for mine.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he tells me, regret laced in his voice.
The wreckage of that night and the nights that followed, in the wake of Connie leaving, felt like an abyss I’d never find an end to. I think…if someone had held me through that, I might not have faced myself. Might not have hit rock bottom.
