Page 70 of Someone To Claim
“No,” I tell the waitress. “Not even a little.”
She nods, unbothered. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
A way to tell the woman I love that I’m in love with her,I think as she walks away.That would be helpful.
I sip my Sprite and keep watching them play. Sloane is legit terrible, but she laughs and nudges him with her elbow every time he tries to correct her grip. She even sends the cue ball bouncing off the table at one point. Cody’s outrage drowns out the jukebox, which clearly delights her.
Oh, yeah. Every single version of this woman I’ve seen since Nashville has leveled me, but carefree Sloane in a dive bar outside of Tahoe might be the one that finally does me in. I want to bear witness to her being this unguarded for the rest of my life.
I’ve spent twenty years thinking my value was in what I could do for people. Play a song. Mentor a kid. Sit by a bedside. I built anidentity around being needed, because it’s the kind of connection I’m good at.
My mother needed me. Jamie needed me. Cody needs me. As long as someone needs me, I have a reason to exist.
Sloane doesn’t need me, and the fact that she lets me stay anyway carries a meaning I’m only now beginning to appreciate. She’s not keeping me around because I’m useful. She just wants me here.
Which is a revelation in and of itself. What if I’ve been enough this whole time and too afraid to believe it?
The DJ comes on aroundnine, and the dance floor fills with locals and tourists who’ve had enough drinks to stop worrying about their footwork. When Sloane comes back to the table, flushed and grinning after another loss, I feel my chest crack open so fast and wide there’s no first-aid kit in the world that could patch it.
“We lost again,” she announces, taking a long drink of her soda. She looks delighted. “I bet you’re good at pool.”
“I’m not bad.”
“You’re good at everything.”
Not figuring out what happens next. Not finding the words to ask her if I can keep being a part of her life after we leave this place.
“Let’s dance,” I say instead.
I need her in my arms. To stop thinking and just feel her hand in mine, her lavender scent surrounding me, and the way we fit together that’s everything good in my life. I want to hold her in front of this bar full of strangers and not pretend she’s temporary.
“I should warn you,” she says as I stand and offer her my hand, “I’m worse at dancing than I am at pool.”
“Oh I remember,” I tell her.
“Then you can’t want to...”
“I do.” I lead her to the dance floor and draw her against me, one hand settling on her lower back and the other holding hers against my shoulder. The song is some up-tempo pop number I don’t recognize, but I ignore the beat and sway slow. I couldn’t give a shit about the music. All that matters is the woman in my arms looking up at me with those blue eyes that have been undoing me since a bar in Nashville fourteen months ago.
She steps on my foot. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
She steps on the other one. “I warned you.”
I laugh and pull her closer, leaving no space between us. She rests her cheek against my shoulder, and my heart has never felt lighter.
Before she got sick, my mother used to dance with Jamie and me in our tiny kitchen. She was a great dancer. Always said you couldn’t fake it on a dance floor.
I’m not faking a thing.
Cody catches my eye from across the room, leaning against the bar with a grin that saysI told you solouder than any words could. I shake my head at him, but I’m smiling. He gives me a thumbs-up and then turns away.
“Jensen?” Sloane’s voice is muffled against my shirt.
“Yeah.”
“This is nice.”
