Page 75 of Someone To Claim
Sloane’s gaze swings from them to me, and the look of betrayal on her face cracks me wide open.
“Did you call my brother?”
“I had Avah’s number.”
I watch every inch of ground I’ve gained over this past week crumble in real time. All of it erased by a single phone call.
A call I’d still make. Because she’s more important than anything, especially my happiness.
Jeremy crosses to the bed and leans down, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You scared the hell out of us.”
“Again,” Avah adds, rolling her eyes when her voice cracks. She moves to Sloane’s other side and takes her hand.
The other woman squeezes Sloane’s foot through the blanket. “I came along because I still want to kick Kristen Quinn’s ass for being such a disappointment.”
“Me too,” Avah agrees.
“No ass kicking.” Sloane manages a smile, and I can tell she’s happy to see them. But the arm not connected to the IV crosses over her stomach, and I recognize it as a gesture of protection. She’s protecting herself, and I put her in a position where she needs to do it.
“I’m fine,” she tells them. “Lots of people get infections.”
“You aren’t lots of people,” Jeremy says roughly, and I hear the worry and affection in his voice.
“Yeah, well…” Her chin trembles, and she glances at the ceiling. “You could have just FaceTimed.”
“What’s the use of having a private jet if you can’t jet around?” Avah asks, smoothing a strand of hair from Sloane’s face.
Jeremy turns to me and extends his hand. “We haven’t officially met. Jeremy Winslow.”
“Jensen Grant.”
His handshake is firm, and he holds my gaze for a beat longer than necessary. “Thanks for calling.”
The relief is so acute that my knees almost buckle. At least someone thinks I did the right thing. For one second, standing in front of her brother, I feel like I’m on solid ground.
“You shouldn’t have called him,” Sloane says.
Turns out I’m standing in quicksand.
She’s glaring at me now, her blue eyes filled with a hurt far worse than anger. She trusted me to let her be strong, and I broke it the second things got hard.
I don’t know what else I could have done. Still, it’s clear I don’t belong here anymore. The wilderness adventure is officially over.
Maybe we were always on borrowed time, and the clock just ran out.
I stand. “I should get going.” The words I need to say next clog in my throat, and I have to force them out. “I’m flying back to Nashville this afternoon.”
Sloane’s breath catches, and her fingers curl into the hospital blanket. The heart monitor beside her bed quickens, a tiny acceleration that no one seems to notice. But I do, because I’ve been listening to the steady rhythm for four hours.
The truth is, I don’t have a flight booked, but her people are here now, and I’m irrelevant. She doesn’t need me. She never did. But a stupid, sorry piece of me wants her to tell me not to go. To hear her say it. And I’d stay. I’d blow up every plan I had for her.
“Thank you for babysitting me.” She shifts her body away from me like she doesn’t have a choice, not even wincing when the IV line tugs against her arm with the movement.
I shake my head, meeting Avah’s almost sympathetic gaze on the other side of the bed. “Sloane, you know it wasn’t?—”
“It’s fine, Jensen. You served your purpose.” She sounds as broken as I feel. I did that, and I hate myself for it. “Just go.”
She’s voicing the exact fear I confessed to Cody. That my value begins and ends with being useful. Only she’s doing it because I hurt her first.
