I push the door open quietly.
The living room lamp is on.
The TV is on low.
And on the couch, Sloane is exactly where I pictured her—wrapped in a blanket like it’s the only thing keeping her in one piece.
But she’s not alone.
Jade and Blakely are sitting with her.
Jade’s hair is up in a messy bun, cheeks flushed like she came straight from practice or a run she didn’t need. Blakely’s perched sideways on the couch, legs tucked under her, a bowl of popcorn in her lap that looks untouched.
They both look up when I step in.
Jade’s expression softens immediately. Like she’s been waiting for me to walk through the door.
Blakely gives me a small nod—serious, for once.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
Sloane’s head turns. Slow. Heavy.
Her eyes land on me, and something in my chest twists because she doesn’t brighten—not really—but she…anchors. Like seeing me reminds her where she is.
“Hey,” she whispers.
Her voice is thin. Like she hasn’t used it for anything except survival.
I cross the room and crouch in front of the couch so I’m not towering over her. Her face is pale in the soft light, lashes darker against her cheeks, lips slightly chapped. She’s wearing another one of Pops’s old sweatshirts—the navy one with the faded lettering—and it hits me like a fist because that’s not a coincidence.
That’s a choice.
A way of pretending he’s still here.
“You okay?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
Sloane’s mouth twitches like she might try to joke but doesn’t make it.
“No.”
At least she’s honest.
Jade clears her throat behind me, the kind of sound that sayswe’re leaving, but we don’t want to make it weird.
“We were just—” she starts.
“Keeping her company,” Blakely finishes.
Sloane doesn’t react. She keeps staring at me like it takes effort to focus.
Jade leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “She ate half a piece of toast.”
“Which is,” Blakely adds, “a win, considering she looked like she wanted to fight the toaster.”
Sloane’s eyes flick to them, deadpan. “It deserved it.”
Jade snorts softly, like relief. Like she’s grateful for even that tiny flicker of Sloane’s personality.
