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And for Sloane I keep every promise, no matter how badly they hurt.
Does he not see her?
“I remember that day.”
Sloane catches my eye across the table and gives me one of her practiced smiles. I know it’s fake because I’ve seen her real smile.
“Basically, she knows if she needs something, I’ll be there,”
Her voice cracks as she presses her forehead to my chest, like she always has, and I slide my palm down the back of her hair, cupping the base of her skull. Like I always have.
The puncture from where the pointed claw of my engagement ring dug in taunts me, like the universe knows this marriage will make me bleed in ways that no one else will know or see.
But then, this isn’t really my wedding, and it isn’t really a celebration either. Maybe funeral colors make perfect sense.
What the fuck did he do to her?
“She’s not your wife. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“I said I’m not leaving. But you need to.”
“Over my dead body, are you marrying him.”
A girl I barely know monologues about her life, and I just listen. She talks so much that even my demons can’t compete.
“Jas. Get me the fuck out of here. I wanna go to the ranch.”
He’s always been my gentle giant. Tall, quiet, and good down to the marrow of his bones.
I hop out of the car and walk toward the store like a thirsty, stunned, barefoot bride-zombie.
Straight for the old broken-down Honda I’ve been calling home.
And just like that Beau Eaton cements himself as one of the very best things in my life . . .
Our nights spent out on the roof were some of the best of my life. They usually started out as the worst nights, but then she’d come join me and they were instantly better.
I chance a look at Sloane now to see how she might react to my dark question. But as usual, she doesn’t shy away from my darkness—after all, she’s my Sunny.
Because she’s a tether that has never let go, even when I’ve wanted her to.
maroon Calgary Grizzlies cap
“That’s probably what you tell all the girls, Gervais.”
“Nah, Sunny. You’re my only girl.”
But there’s only one person waiting who I want to see. The beautiful girl wearing my jersey who feels like home. The one who has barely left my side for over a week.
I’m grumpy and miserable. The world is dark, but she’s like the moon when we sat on the roof. Bright and pure, shedding a silvery light over everything so that I can still see where I’m going.
Everything in the world feels wrong. But standing here with Sloane in my arms feels right.
This man is a vault, locked up so damn tight. He’s always been a man of few words, even around me. But at this moment, it’s not like he can’t find the words. I know he can. It’s more like it pains him to wrench them from himself. Like staying quiet and introspective is his best defense mechanism.
It’s envy. It’s possession.
Good to lie here with someone who knows about some of the happiest days of my life.
“Do you think about me?”
“Every fucking day, Sunny.”
I see her everywhere.
Because I’ve been staring at Jasper Gervais since I was ten years old, and suddenly . . . he’s staring back.
My person.
“I learned with my parents that no matter how fiercely I love someone it isn’t enough to make them stay. But you? I told you every dirty little detail and you could have hated me. But you stayed. You danced.”
“I can’t ever lose you,” he growls.
“Because I think I’m about to fuck everything up between us.”
I cut him off by launching myself back at him. And he doesn’t miss a fucking beat.
His eyes flit around every corner of my face as he assesses me. He reads me like a fucking book and then tells me something I’ve longed to hear.
“You’re not alone. I’m right there with you.”
My last moment and she would never know what she is to me. How much she is to me. That she’s it for me. And that’s just fucking insane. Like a waste. Like for a man who knows loss so intimately, why would I ever set myself up to lose something so precious?
But fuck, losing someone and having them not know that you care about them? Wishing you could go back and tell them? That’s a special hell. One I have no intention of living in because I’ve given my demons enough of myself already—they can’t have her too.
“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.”
“Times have changed, Sloane. I’m not scared anymore. You’re not my fucking friend. You’re just mine.”
“We both know you want to watch.”
My brain might be in bitch mode, but my heart? My heart is in slut mode.
“Good girl,”
“You might be wearing his ring, but we both know it was my cock you were riding in your head,”
“I don’t like to ask twice,”
