Page 27 of The Route to You

Of all the people in her life—friends, bridesmaids, her sister—she told him first.

Why?

And why did that feel like being handed something breakable?

“So,” she went on, bitterness bleeding into her voice, “if you ever wondered if karma got me for dumping you and breaking your heart, there’s your answer. She’s a bitch with claws, apparently.”

He lifted his chin, giving her a cool look. “Do you think you deserve what he did to you?”

“No, but⁠—”

“Then don’t say that.” His voice came out firmer than he intended. “You don’t get to blame this on teenage Sloan. Or God. Or karma. Or me.”

She stared at him, something unsteady in her eyes.

He exhaled, softer. “Look. I’m not asking you to rewrite history. But I’m not going to let you sit here and tell yourself you earned being betrayed.”

Sloan’s lashes lowered. “Can I at least say I’m sorry?”

He released an exaggerated sigh. “Will that make you feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Then fine.” He waved a hand like he was granting a royal decree. “Apology accepted. Officially. With no refunds.”

A weak laugh escaped her. “It’s just weird, you know? All these years and then you show up the night my life blows up.” Her mouth tightened, her face sobering. “It’s almost like God wanted you to witness it.”

Kyle stood and dragged the camp stool closer, stopping a few feet from the bed before he sat. “What nonsense are you babbling, woman?”

Sloan’s brows lifted. “Excuse me?”

“I’m going to say this once,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “so pay attention. What happened with your fiancé? It’s not your fault. Your ex is a dick. He managed that all by himself.”

Sloan’s lips parted, then pressed together, fighting a smile.

“And you,” he continued, “did nothing to cause it. You didn’t manifest his wandering penis with your negative energy.”

A startled sound—half laugh, half choke—escaped her.

Kyle sat back, satisfied. “There. My professional opinion. I won’t even charge you this time.”

She covered part of her face with her hand. “God.”

“Exactly.” He pointed at her. “Don’t give Him credit for Evan’s stupidity.”

Sloan dropped her hand, eyes shining a little. “I just don’t know what to do now.”

“Do you have to know right this second?”

“No.”

“Great.” He grinned and spread his hands. “Then we’re done panicking until at least eight a.m. You can sleep, then we’ll figure out a place to grab breakfast. Unless you want to eat my oatmeal, which is entirely up to you. One step at a time.”

Sloan watched him for a moment. “You’re a really nice guy, you know that?”

“Oh, man, do I ever.” He smiled and leaned farther back into his seat, stretching out. “I’ve got a sore hip from sleeping on the cold floor and a permanent friend zone sign tattooed on my forehead.”

She rolled her eyes. “No way.”