Page 40 of The Route to You

Sloan had always hated liars, and it was possibly why Evan’s betrayal angered her so much. Who knows how many other women Evan had slept with over the years? After all, once a cheater, always a cheater. Now, despite knowing I left willingly, he’d filed a missing persons report. Ass.

Kyle’s first thought in this whole big mess was to be honest with Sloan. I appreciate that more than he can know. He’d always been one of the good ones with an natural instinct to take care of people, even when it cost him. Maybe because he has two sisters.

He’d grown to become a good man, too.

A friend.

And right now, I could use one of those.

12

SLOAN

Kyle was showing off.

No other way to describe it. And, even if years had passed between when they’d dated, Sloan could still interpret that look on his face.

He cut across the slope like he was born on a board, carving wide, lazy S-shapes through the snow with Dean a few yards behind him, both of them moving with the kind of easy confidence that made it look less like effort and more like anyone who picked up a board could do this.

Of course he was an amazing snowboarder—she should have expected it. Kyle had always had a knack for picking up any sport he played, even if he only got a five-minute lesson. But, in this case, he’d clearly spent years practicing.

Kyle glanced back over his shoulder, spotted Sloan and Dean’s wife, Francesca, and lifted one hand in a casual wave before popping up onto the edge of his board and riding it for a few seconds like he was balancing on a rail.

Dean whooped.

Francesca groaned, shaking her head at Kyle and glancing back at Sloan. “Your friend is going to die.”

Francesca hadn’t asked about the nature of their relationship and Sloan hadn’t said anything. But every now and then, she got the feeling Francesca was testing the water with her questions.

Sloan snorted, angling her skis into a smooth turn. “He’s always been like that. If there’s a safe way and a stupid way, he picks the stupid one first. I just never knew he was this way about snowboarding.”

Francesca’s laugh was bright and unrestrained, the sound of someone who was genuinely having a good time with her life. “Dean says the same thing about himself. It’s why I make him stretch.”

Ahead of them, Dean did something that involved too much speed and not enough planning and nearly ate it on a patch of chopped snow. He windmilled, recovered, then threw his arms up like he’d meant to do that.

Kyle applauded.

Sloan shook her head, smiling despite herself.

The slope was wide and fast and sunlit, the kind of run Evan had always loved—long enough to open up, clean enough to let your legs burn. She followed Francesca’s line, letting muscle memory take over. Skiing came back like riding a bike, and Evan had paid for enough lessons that her body just took over. The quiet focus, the controlled speed, the way the world narrowed to snow and sky and the edge of her next turn.

For a few blessed minutes, she let her mind empty.

No Evan. No wedding. No missing persons report.

Just wind in her face and the clean, sharp bite of cold air in her lungs.

She’d needed this more than she’d realized.

They regrouped near the bottom, all four of them sliding to a stop in a loose cluster. Dean reached for Francesca immediately, tugging her in by the waist and stealing a quick kiss like he couldn’t help himself.

“Show-off,” Kyle muttered.

Francesca beamed. “He learned it from you.”

That piqued her curiosity. Learned what? The recklessness? Or the kissing?

Immediately, she pictured Kyle bringing a girlfriend on a previous trip.