I shake my head. “Not like this. Not when I’m a mess. Not when I don’t know what I want.”
“But you do know what you want,” Maggie says gently. “You’re just scared to reach for it.”
“Of course, I’m scared. My entire life just imploded. My family just chose my cheating ex over me. I don’t have a job, I don’t have a place to live, I don’t have anything figured out!” I scream, my voice getting higher with each panicked statement.
“You have you,” she says firmly. “And that’s enough.”
The tears come harder.
We drive in silence for a while, and I stare out the window at the snow starting to fall. At the houses decorated for the holidays. At families visible through lit windows, laughing, eating, and being normal.
And all I can think about is Jax.
About how he never would have let that happen. Never let someone ambush me like that. Never make me feel small or crazy or wrong for having boundaries.
I pull out my phone and turn it back on.
Seventeen missed calls. All from Mom.
I ignore them and pull up Jax’s number.
My hands are still shaking as I type.
SLOANE: Can I call you?
The response is immediate.
JAX: Always.
I hit the call button.
He answers on the first ring. “Sloane? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
And just like that, I break all over again.
I tell him everything. About the ambush. About Chett being there. How my parents were taking his side. The accusations, the manipulation, and walking out. Jax doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t try to fix it. He just listens while I cry and rage and fall apart. When I finally run out of words, he speaks.
“Where are you now?” he asks.
“In the car. Maggie’s driving. We’re heading back to Riley’s.”
“Come here.” His voice is gentle but firm. “Come to the farm. Both of you. You shouldn’t be alone after that.”
“Jax, I can’t just show up …”
“Yes, you can. Please, Sloane. Let me take care of you.” He pauses. “We have way too much food. My grandmother made enough to feed an army. And you need people who give a shit about you right now.”
The offer makes me cry harder. “I’m such a mess right now,” I whisper
“I don’t care. Come anyway. Or don’t. But know that the offer stands. Always.”
I look at Maggie, who’s been listening to my side of the conversation. She nods encouragingly.
“Okay,” I hear myself say. “Okay. We’re coming.”
“Text me when you’re close. I’ll be waiting.”
After I hang up, Maggie reaches over and squeezes my hand. “He sounds like a good guy.”
