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You deserve better.” I could do better. That’s what I really want to say. That’s what I’ve realized sitting here tonight. That I’m thinking things I shouldn’t be. Wanting things I can’t have. Because I’m too late.
She hurled words at me that should hurt. But I just hurt for her. Because my biological dad is an asshole. But the man who really raised me? Harvey Eaton? He’s the best of the best. He showed me love, and I can identify it just fine.
Plus, I remember how Sloane looks at a man when she really wants him. And she isn’t looking at her fiancé the way she used to look at me.
i love them
ACTS OF SERVICE 😫
Deft fingers make quick work of the dainty silver buckles while I stand here slack-jawed, watching this man drop to one knee just to take my shoes off, running calloused palms reverently around my ankle as he tugs my feet free. Without looking up, he hands the sparkly heel to me as he taps the opposite foot. And not for the first time, I’m stuck staring at Jasper Gervais with my heart pounding while he goes about what he’s doing like it’s the most mundane thing in the world.
And then she’s there, wrapping her arms around the man who is my dad. In every way that I needed a father, Harvey was that person to me. He’s known so much pain in his life. So much loss and hardship. Just like me.
Sloane has shed too many tears today. And yet, she’s here. Drunk. And sad. And lost. She’s got dirty feet and is wearing an expensive, ripped wedding dress for a marriage that didn’t happen. Her life is in shambles, and she’s still here comforting other people. Sloane is selfless. She might not look it, but she’s strong. She’s a got a huge heart. A gentle soul. And watching her comfort Harvey right now, I let myself admit that the way I love Sloane might not be how one friend loves another at all.
Because she’s a tether that has never let go, even when I’ve wanted her to. Before I joined the Eatons, I felt like no one would miss me if I were gone. But now I know that’s not true. They would. Sloane would. And that’s always kept me grounded in a way I needed so desperately as a grieving teenager.
“You always look good to me. Concealer, no concealer. Fancy dress, Harvey’s sweat suit. Smooth hair”—his hand waves over me with a low chuckle—“whatever this is. It doesn’t matter. You’re you.”
I’m just depraved enough to let my eyes snag on his ass as he bends over, the muscled curve of it pressed against his expensive slacks.
sloane T_T
“I just need to hear your voice. Know that you’re somewhere safe.”
what is mom okay
“What do you think I should do?” His mouth twists. “Sunny, the last thing you need in your life is another man telling you what to do.”
Rhett has Summer. Cade has Willa. Violet has Cole. It seems like every Eaton has someone to lean on. Except me.
And she’s still wearing my jersey. Friend. Friend. Friend. I slam the word into my brain repeatedly like it might cement it somehow.
LMAO
“I’ll be sure to give you some notice so you can get your Viagra down in time, old boy.”
HAHAHHA THEY'RE SO FUNNY
Willa: He can be both. Turn that frown upside down, baby girl!
byeeee HAHAHA
sloane’s eyes
“No. It’s in the car. And it’s one of my favorite things.”
IT’S HER EYES
KNEW IT
I nod and twist my hands on the wheel, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her, to tell her how proud I am of her. To tell her she could be mine instead.
That’s not how feelings work—they just are, no matter what anyone else thinks of them.
I’m too tired to focus on anything other than how the water is the exact color of Sloane’s eyes.
I was wrong about the sky. I was wrong about the eggshell. It’s the glacier lake. I see her everywhere.
“You don’t need to worry about me, Sunny.” I don’t look back when I hear her soft response. “I always worry about you, Jas.”
Because I’ve been staring at Jasper Gervais since I was ten years old, and suddenly . . . he’s staring back.
Jasper Gervais is so damn sweet under his standoffish exterior that it almost makes my teeth ache. That’s another side of him few people get to see. And I think I like that about him too. He doesn’t give his attention away willy-nilly. He doesn’t absently hum along to what you’re saying while scrolling on his phone. If you have Jasper Gervais’s attention, you’ve got it all, and that’s because he wants you to have it. He doesn’t just listen to me. He hears me. He sees me. And there’s something precious about that, the way he can look at someone and make them feel like the only person in the
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Jasper: I don’t like talking to people. Sloane: You talk to me. Jasper: You’re not people. Sloane: Lmao. What am I then? Jasper: My person.
The way that boyish smile lights up his face when I complain about him kicking my ass. I hate losing . . . and yet, to see him smile like that, I’d lose over and over again. I’d sit on a cold roof. I’d dance in the rain. I’d go on a road trip and drink shitty beer and eat greasy foods. For Jasper I’d do anything. Except actually tell him that. Because when he turns me down, I’ll break. A million little pieces of me scattered into the wind. It doesn’t matter that my love for him is pathetic and tragically unrequited. It just is. The sky is blue. The grass is green. And I’ve loved Jasper Gervais
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My fav feminist 🥰
“Why do you have to be so fucking agreeable, Jasper?” “Because I’m your friend, Sunny. Nothing will ever change that. If you need to bitch about something, even if that something is me, I’ll be that person for you.”
“Because he sucks the life out of you!” She rears back, clearly shocked by the volume of my voice. “And I want to breathe it back in.”
“Tell me how to make you feel better.”
Decided I won’t be the girl who goes along with what everyone else around her wants. I’m going to speak up. I’m going to get comfortable disappointing other people to avoid disappointing myself. I won’t apologize for doing things the way I want to do them. I’m ready to be unapologetically me and let go of the people in my life who don’t approve of the person I am now.
Telling me I wasn’t good enough for you? All that did was make me want to be good enough for you.”
Because no matter what else is going on in the world, everything is better with her in my arms.
But it does. I want to know. I always want to be the person who knows the most about him. That’s always been the one thing I’ve had with him that no other woman can claim. I might not know his body. I might not have memorized all his tattoos. But I know his heart. I’m intimately familiar with all the pieces of it he’s given to me over the years. But they aren’t enough. I want the rest of it too.
“I feel like I could crumble under the weight of not wanting to disappoint you. I’m paralyzed by my fear of losing you.”
“Don’t you get it, Jas? I’ve seen all the darkest parts of you and I’m still here. I still want more. Stop trying to scare me away. It isn’t going to work.”
“It’s always been you, Jasper. It will always be you.”
“The real question is, do any of those other people matter when I only ever see you? When I only ever think about you? When I’ve done nothing but become more and more obsessed with you since I was told to stay away from you?”
“I don’t know how I went so long without you,” he murmurs, pushing my hair behind my ear and cradling my skull. “I never want to go without you again,”
Just a little bit out of control. And it gives me just a little bit of hope that Jasper Gervais might love me the way I love him too.
I can see us doing this forever. Taking trips together. Napping together. Doing chores together. Me walking up and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, just because I can, and then carrying on with my shit. Even doing boring stuff is infinitely less boring with Sloane by my side.
“Y’all went and made that kissing cousins saying a real-life thing.”
Keeping myself from barging in there is a Herculean feat. And it’s not even jealousy at this point, or concern for her safety, because I’m almost positive she’s alone in there. It’s that I’m finding I don’t like being away from her at all. I don’t know if it’s the need to make up for lost time, or if I’m just being a clingy bastard, but I’d rather be in there helping pack her stuff than standing out here overthinking every small particle of my life. And hers.
“I just . . . I thought I was going back there to get my stuff. That I needed my stuff. But as soon as I walked in there, I wanted to be back out here. With you. Hell, I didn’t want to be here at all today, and I told myself I’d only grab the things that were important. The things that meant something to me. So I walked around looking for them but . . . I didn’t find them.”
She takes a small step closer to me, which is all the confirmation I need. Deep down I know it was never really a choice between the two of us. But it feels good to be chosen all the same.
I’ve watched YouTube videos on how to install new faucets, and Jasper never tells me I can’t or I shouldn’t or that it’s something a man should do. No one does. Instead, he walks in, gives the house a little smirk with his hands slung casually in his pockets and tells me how fabulous it looks. What a great job I’ve done. How capable I am. He makes me believe in myself.
This is new for me. He doesn’t jump to tell me whether I should or shouldn’t be happy about something. He just asks me how I feel. Like what’s going on inside my head—inside my heart—is worthy of his notice and respect. And I think I love him even more for that.
