She remembered how Catherine had smiled sleepily, the softness of her touch, the casual intimacy that had felt so much like a promise. Now, the memory burned.
Sloane paused again, staring at the half-finished painting, the swirling blue growing muddied beneath her distracted hand. Frustration twisted through her, sharp and unforgiving.
“Dammit,” she muttered, tossing the brush onto the table beside her. She rubbed her eyes, streaking paint across her brow, careless in her irritation. She hated waiting. She hated the silence that had become Catherine’s defense. Most of all, she hated that despite it all, she still had hope.
A sudden knock at the studio door jolted her from her thoughts. She turned quickly, heart leaping irrationally, but as the door swung open, Dani poked her head inside.
“Oh,” Sloane sighed, disappointment flickering briefly across her face before she caught herself. “It’s you.”
Dani raised an eyebrow, stepping fully inside. “Well, don’t sound so thrilled.”
“Sorry,” Sloane said, turning back to the canvas. “I just thought you might be?—”
“Someone else?” Dani finished, her voice gentle but pointed. “Someone tall, cold, emotionally distant, and stubborn?”
Sloane sighed heavily, shaking her head, a reluctant smile curving her lips. “You really know how to describe her.”
“Years of practice,” Dani said lightly, crossing the studio and hopping up onto the stool, narrowly avoiding the abandoned brush. She swung her feet, watching Sloane closely. “You look like you’re waiting for a train that’s already left the station.”
Sloane crossed her arms, meeting Dani’s steady gaze. “No,” she said quietly, almost defiantly. “I’m just hoping it circles back.”
Dani’s eyes softened with sympathy, but there was a firmness to her tone. “She’s done this before, Sloane. You said it yourself, this isn’t the first time she’s gone quiet.”
Sloane leaned back against her worktable, staring blankly at the drying paint. “I know. But this time felt different. Real.”
“It probably was,” Dani conceded gently. “But how many times are you willing to put yourself out there before Doctor Frosty decides it’s worth it?”
Sloane felt the sharp sting of Dani’s words, each one cutting close to a truth she didn't want to face. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “I guess until it hurts too much.”
Dani nodded, her voice careful and cautious. “Maybe it already does.”
The silence stretched between them, the weight of Dani’s words settling heavily in the quiet of the studio. Sloane looked at her phone again, stubbornly silent, as though the emptiness of it was mocking her hope.
“I’m tired,” Sloane finally said, her voice low. “I’m tired of guessing how she feels, tired of chasing someone who’s determined to run.”
Dani reached over, squeezing Sloane’s hand lightly. “You deserve someone who runs toward you, not away.”
Sloane swallowed hard, her throat tight. “She did, once. And it was worth it.”
“But is it still?” Dani asked softly. “You can’t love enough for both of you.”
Sloane looked away, blinking hard, forcing back the ache in her chest. “I know.”
Dani slid off the stool, pulling Sloane into a tight hug, warm and comforting. “I just don’t want to see you broken again. You give everything. Sometimes too much.”
Sloane smiled weakly, pulling back and brushing a tear she refused to shed from her cheek. “Maybe. But I don’t know how to love any other way.”
Dani stepped back, offering her a small, gentle smile. “I know. That’s why it’s beautiful. And that’s why it hurts.”
Sloane watched quietly as Dani left, the studio falling silent once again. She stared back at her unfinished canvas, the blurred lines and muddy colors now a reflection of her own uncertainty.
The phone remained quiet, the space around her empty, echoing with everything she’d given and everything that had yet to come back to her.
She took a shaky breath, squaring her shoulders, feeling resolve take root deep in her chest. She wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t wait endlessly. If Catherine wanted her, it had to be real.
It had to be now.
It was evening before Sloane decided to take action, and before she could stop herself, she was already calling Catherine. Sloane waited four rings before she sighed and pulled the phone from her ear to hang up, but heard a familiar voice on the other end of the line.
