Page 30 of The Route to You

He gave her a look. “Someone other than me.”

“If I know everyone, besides Evan—who won’t want to be embarrassed today—no one will be that stressed about where I’ve gone.”

At his raised brow, she huffed and said, “Fine. My wedding planner will be, but that’s literally her job. Honestly, Evan was already acting like our wedding today was getting in the way of his skiing. His friends will be happy to go out on fresh powder rather than dress up in tuxes.”

Kyle stood slowly. “Why in the hell were you marrying that guy then? He sounds like an asshole.”

Sloan’s mouth opened. Then shut.

She didn’t have a clean answer. The answer was messy and embarrassing and probably wouldn’t make her look completely sane.

“I—” Sloan dug her fingers through her hair and paused, her hand settling on top of her head. “He is. He’s kind of an asshole. But he was my asshole, I guess. I don’t know. I mean, the signs were there, but you know . . . it’s hard to throw away your life and start over. Walking out of that hotel was one of the more terrifying things I’ve done.”

His eyes glittered but he didn’t respond.

Still, she was certain she read judgment from his expression.

Defensiveness snapped up like a shield and she scowled. “What do you know? You’re proudly single. Don’t judge me for wanting to marry and build a life with someone I dated for four years. We had a life together—friends, a house, plans.” She swallowed, then the thought hit her like a physical blow. “A dog.”

She dragged her hand back down her face. Sadie. What in the hell was going to happen with Sadie? “Oh, no, my dog. I need to go get my dog before he won’t let me have her.”

Kyle’s jaw clenched. “Sloan.”

“What?”

“Do you have any idea how fucked up this sounds to an outsider?” His voice stayed controlled, but steel threaded it now. “Your fiancé cheats on you, but you’re afraid to talk to him. You don’t feel safe talking to anyone you love about it. He’s tracking you. And now you’re afraid that if you don’t go get your dog, he’s going to keep her like a hostage?”

A cold nausea rolled through her. “I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then how do you mean it?” Kyle asked quietly. “Because from where I’m standing . . . it worries me. I know he’s a congressman . . . are you scared of him?”

“No, no, that’s not it. I’ll be fine.” Any desire to talk about it with him was quickly dying, though. He doesn’t get it. He’ll never get it.

Kyle exhaled, long and slow. “Okay. So, how can I help?” He paused. “You want to, what? Go home and get your dog?”

She nodded.

“Where’s home?”

“Bozeman. But I don’t have my ID. I left it in the hotel.”

He searched her face and she could see it there on the tip of his tongue—the comment about how this would all be a lot easier if she would just put her big girl pants on and go back to the hotel, get her things, face Evan.

And maybe she was being stupid about it. Maybe she should go back. But for whatever reason, every instinct inside her screamed not to. Running away last night had already been hard enough. If she went back now, would she have the strength to walk away again?

“Do you want me to drive you there?”

She ducked her chin at him. “You’d drive me to Montana?”

He shrugged, like driving runaway brides across state lines was an average Tuesday. “Sure, why not?”

A thousand reasons. Starting with the fact that we’re not friends, really. They were barely . . . well, she wasn’t really sure what they were. What did you call someone who used to know you better than anyone in the world, who’d laughed and cried with you, had sex with you, dreamed with you . . . and then went out of your life? Not strangers. Not acquaintances, either. And exes didn’t really seem right either, given how young they’d been.

An ex was someone like Evan.

Kyle was . . . the old boyfriend whose number I could never bring myself to delete from my phone.

She blinked the thought away, trying to remember what they’d been discussing.