“They said the restaurant group was protecting itself. That it was better for me if I signed the NDA—they’d give me a few months’ pay and a mutual non-disparagement clause.”
Sloane makes a disgusted noise. “Of course they did.”
“If I talked to the press,” I go on, the words starting to tumble faster now that they’re moving at all, “or contradicted his statement, they said they’d ‘have to reevaluate my severance package’ and could ‘refute defamatory claims.’ Which is HR for ‘we will ruin you back.’”
Her hand lands on my knee. “And you signed.”
“I signed.” Shame spikes hot behind my eyes. “I needed the money. My rent was due. No one else was going to hire the souschef in the scandal article. I chose survival over pride.” My laugh comes out jagged. “I’m so mad at myself for trading my voice for that.”
Sloane’s eyes fill. “Honey, you were drowning, and they threw you a lifeline tied to an anchor. You did what you had to do not to sink. That’s not shameful. That’s… math.”
I blink hard. “It doesn’t feel noble. It just feels like I let him own my story.”
She leans her shoulder into mine. “Maybe publicly, for now. But privately? With people who matter? You still get to tell the truth. And you just did.”
The lump in my throat gets bigger. “Nobody would look at me. Not really. Except Rosa. Everyone else just pretended I wasn’t there.”
Sloane’s jaw flexes. “You worked your ass off for that place.”
“I lived in that kitchen,” I whisper. “I missed birthdays and holidays and sleep for that kitchen. And they shoved me out the back door like I was a health code violation.”
Her hand slides up to squeeze my arm. “I hate them.”
“I wish I did,” I say quietly. “I miss the work. I miss service. I miss yelling ‘behind’ and actually knowing I belonged there.”
“And your mother?”
I let out a strangled sound. “She sent me an article with no subject line and one sentence: ‘I warned you about men like that.’ So. That was fun.”
“Oh, good,” Sloane bites back tightly. “When we’re done setting Marcus on fire, we’ll move on to your mother.”
A shaky laugh escapes me. “One of the reasons I came here was because there’s no one left to really disappoint. Not like that. I couldn’t bear another ‘I told you so.’”
She tips her head, studying me. “So you came to my safe haven.”
That pulls a wet laugh out of me.
She nudges my side. “Okay, so that’s the ‘why you left.’ Tell me about Sunridge.”
I stare out at the square where Sadie is trying to balance three mini pumpkins on Micah’s head while Caleb pretends not to notice and Boone negotiates with a vendor over hay prices.
“It’s good. The work is… I love it.”
“And the men?” she presses, eyes dancing a little now. “Because last time we talked, you were very adamant about ‘no more messy boss situations.’ And yet, rumors have already reached my ears, Rivers.”
Heat rushes into my cheeks. “What rumors?”
She slips into an absolutely terrible imitation of Silas’s drawl. “‘Sunshine’s got a mouth that could ruin a man.’”
“Oh no.” I cover my face. “He did not say that.”
“He did,” she announces cheerfully. “Or that’s what I heard anyway.”
I groan into my hands. “Terribly. It’s going terribly.”
“Define terribly,” she says.
I peek at her through my fingers. “I met Silas the first night I was in town. At The Hollow. I didn’t know who he was. He flirted, I… needed to not feel like a scandal headline for five minutes, and one thing led to another.”
