“He is.” My voice is thick with tears. “He’s everything Chett never was.”
“Then maybe that disaster was worth it. Maybe you needed to see how toxic that whole situation was. How much they were trying to guilt you into going back to realize when someone is good.”
She’s right. As horrible as it was, as much as it hurt, I needed that. Needed to see that my parents weren’t going to support me.That they valued the appearance of my relationship more than my actual happiness.
And I needed the reminder of what I left behind.
And what I’m running toward.
But as we merge onto the highway, heading toward Jax’s town, panic bubbles up and tightens my chest. That showing up at his family’s Thanksgiving is too much, too fast, too desperate.
“Actually,” I say suddenly. “Can you turn around?”
Maggie glances at me. “What?”
“I can’t ... I can’t go to his place. Not like this. Not when I’m falling apart. I need to go back to Riley’s. I need time to think.”
“Sloane …”
“Please. Just take me back to Denver.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, then nods. “Okay. But you need to text him. Tell him you changed your mind.”
I pull out my phone with shaking hands.
SLOANE: I’m sorry. I can’t come. I need some time. I’m going back to Riley’s.
His response comes quickly.
JAX: Are you sure? The door’s open if you change your mind.
SLOANE: I’m sure. Thank you for offering. It means everything.
JAX: Call me later?
SLOANE: I will. I promise.
I set my phone down and lean my head against the window, watching the landscape blur past. I need time to process. To figure out what I want. To be okay on my own before I can beokay with someone else. But why does it feel like I just made a huge mistake?
18
SLOANE
The thing about rock bottom is that it’s kind of freeing. I’m lying on Riley’s couch three days after Thanksgiving, still in my pajamas at two in the afternoon, eating Lucky Charms straight from the box because I’ve given up on pretending to be a functional adult. My phone keeps buzzing. Mom calling. Again. I silence it. Again. She’s called a million times since Thursday. Left unknown amounts of voicemails I haven’t listened to. Sent texts ranging from ‘We need to talk’ to ‘You’re being childish’ to ‘Your father is very upset.’
Good. Let him be upset. Let them both be upset. I’m done caring about their feelings when they clearly don’t give a shit about mine.
“You’re spiraling,” Riley observes from the kitchen.
“I’m processing.”
“You’re eating Lucky Charms in yesterday’s pajamas while glaring at your phone like it personally offended you.”
“The phone is innocent. It’s the people calling it that are the problem,” I say, shoving another handful of charms into my mouth.
She brings me coffee, which I accept gratefully. “Have you talked to Jax?”
“We’ve texted.”
