Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)

by Elsie Silver

“We made a promise in that truck, remember? I can’t go without you again. Nothing is more important than being here with you.”

“I fucked that ring right off her finger.”

She’s got a real femme fatale vibe going on, and I am so here for it.

“I love you, Sloane Winthrop. I always have. I love you so damn hard I don’t even know what to do with it. You’re my person. And I think I’m yours too.” “You have always been my person,” she chokes out. “I love you so much.”

I barely notice because in all his goaltending gear, in the middle of his Stanley Cup winning celebration, my childhood crush is dropping to one knee right in front of me. With a little velvet box in his hand. “Do you know what I don’t like?” His eyes staring up at mine are so clear, so bright, so unapologetically joyful. I’m still confused, still having a hard time catching up with what’s happening right now, even though it’s so damn obvious. “What?” I whisper, and I wouldn’t think he could hear me, but he must. Because he responds with, “Your last name, Sunny. I really don’t like your last name.”

“Sloane Gervais sounds right, don’t you think?”

“Sunny, tell me that’s a yes.” “It’s always been a yes, Jasper.”

“It’s hereditary. I mean, look at you.” He gestures at my wedding attire—brown corduroy blazer, bolo tie, hair only lightly styled, and boots rather than dress shoes. “Harvey, I’m not so sure about your understanding of the word hereditary.”

“You look perfect,” I murmur as she draws near. “You look edible. Talk about teenage dream.”

“Yeah. I saw you, Sloane. I noticed you too. Didn’t know what made me look up there that day. Had no clue what it all meant.” “What did it mean?” “That when it comes to you, I’m powerless.”