“I learned from the best.” She grins. “You taught me all your strategies.”
“That was a mistake.”
“Too late now. Prepare to be destroyed.”
We play for another hour, trash-talking and laughing, and it’s so easy. So normal. Like we’ve been doing this for years instead of days. When she finally bankrupts me, she does a little victory dance that’s so dorky and adorable I have to kiss her.
“Sore loser,” she teases.
“Gracious winner,” I counter.
We’re arguing about who has to make dinner when the light starts to fade outside. The storm has fully passed, leaving behind a pristine white landscape and a clear sky that’s starting to show stars.
“It’s over,” Sloane says quietly, looking out the window. “The storm.”
“Yeah.” I pull her closer. “Which means the roads will probably be clear by tomorrow.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “I don’t want to leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave either,” I say in agreement.
“But we have to. Eventually.”
“Eventually,” I agree. “But not tonight. Tonight, you’re still here. You’re still mine.”
She turns to look at me, her eyes searching. “Yours?”
“If you want to be.”
“I do,” she whispers. “God help me, I do.”
I kiss her then, slow and deep, and let myself believe that this will work. That when the roads clear and reality comes crashing back in, we’ll figure it out together. Because the alternative is letting her go, never seeing her again, and that isn’t something I can accept. Tomorrow can bring whatever it wants. Tonight, she’s here and she’s mine.
13
SLOANE
Iwake up to the sound of pounding. Not the gentle knock of someone being polite. Not even the firm rap of someone in a hurry. This is violent, aggressive pounding that makes the whole cabin shake. Jax is already moving, rolling out of bed and pulling on his jeans in one smooth motion. His entire demeanor has changed, gone is the soft, tender man from last night. This is the rescuer, the man trained for emergencies.
“Stay here,” he orders, his voice hard.
But I’m already getting up, my heart racing. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. The pounding continues, accompanied now by a voice. A voice I hoped never to hear again.
“Sloane! I know you’re in there! Open the fucking door!”
Chett.
My blood turns to ice.
Jax turns to look at me, his jaw tight. “That’s him?”
I nod, unable to speak. How did he findme? Shit. Do I still have my location on?
“Sloane! Open the door!”
“What do you want to do?” Jax asks quietly, and I love him a little for asking. For not just taking over. For giving me the choice.
“I … I don’t know. I need to …” The pounding gets louder. “I need to talk to him. Tell him to leave.”
