Sloane, oblivious to my shock, continues. “My aunt’s a Texas socialite. Obsessed with wealthy men and appearances. When she got pregnant, it was too late for an abortion, so she went to Europe to hide it. Planned to give him up quietly. My mom found out and lost her mind.” Her voice tightens. “My aunt kept him—for two years—hidden from the public. That’s when we discovered the neglect.”
She takes a steadying breath. “Healing Horizons is a home for children who’ve been abused. Mentally. Physically. And verbally.”
My pulse roars in my ears.
Healing Horizons
Her words hithomein a way I never expected.
Home…because Nate is my home, and his past is mine to help heal, too.
“Are you all right, Madeline?”
I nod quickly. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been feeling great today. I should head home.”
“Oh, of course. I hope you feel better.”
“Thank you. And Sloane?”
“Yes?”
I meet her eyes. “You’re a good person. And Jagger is incredibly lucky to have you. We should all be so lucky to be loved like that.”
She blinks, clearly unprepared for that from a stranger. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “That means more than you know.”
I wave goodbye, and as I turn to leave, something flies in front of my face. I stop short, not believing my eyes.
An orange butterfly flutters lazily through the air, circling Skye and me, wings glowing in the sunlight.
Skye watches it, transfixed, her head tilting as if she understands exactly what this means.
I smile through the sudden sting in my eyes.
My sweet friend is still here with me.
Right when I need her most.
I love you, Camila.
I’m hit with a sudden sense of urgency to see Nate when a revelation opens my eyes to a future that steals my breath away.
A future I’ve never been more certain of.
And in this moment, I realize something else important.
I was meant to meet Sloane today, and I know, with absolute certainty, that she’s about to change our lives.
Skye and I practically sprint into the building. I throw a hand up to Benny as I enter, but his yelling that one of the elevators is out of order has me rethinking my plan.
I don’t know what’s come over me, but I can’t wait.
I yank open the stairwell door, and Skye immediately lets out a dramatic whine.
“Oh, don’t be lazy,” I scold. “Some dogs like you are out there working the line, fighting wars and crime. You can handle a few flights of stairs.”
I unclip her leash and pretend I’m back on the stair climber Nate recently bought for the home gym, pushing myself all the way to the top floor.
By the time I burst through the door, I’m breathless.
