Page 52 of The Route to You

She hung up.

Hot, angry tears pricked her eyes before she could stop them. Not about the breakup, not even for the cheating, but for what he’d just thrown at her like it was a weapon he’d been waiting to use.

And boy, had it worked.

And to think I was going to marry that man. If she’d had doubts about her decision to leave, Sloan now had none.

Footsteps crossed the room and Kyle crouched in front of her.

She crumpled into his arms, breaking before he even finished moving. His strong arms closed around her as he steadied himself against the wall beside them, anchoring her like he’d done this a thousand times.

And really, he had.

How many times had he held her, especially toward the end, when her mom was dying? Just held her when the world went dark and the anxious thoughts wouldn’t stop pressing in. Accepted that sometimes when she spent the night and crawled on top of him for sex in the middle of the night that it had been about needing to lose herself with someone who’d loved her and given her comfort.

But he’d been her safety net, too.

“Hey,” he whispered into her hair. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No . . . he just . . .” She struggled for breath, shame and rage tangling together.

God, she didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t want to hand anyone else that piece of her that still felt like something that should stay locked away.

Yet, this was Kyle. He already had every reason in the world to think the worst of her. And he was still here.

“I was deeply depressed three years ago,” she said quietly, her cheek pressed into his chest. “Evan and I had a big fight, and he left for a trip.” A lump rose in her throat. “And I swallowed a whole bottle of my anti-anxiety meds.” Her breath hitched. “I was still living in San Francisco and Penny came over so we could go to lunch, but instead . . . she found me. I woke up in the hospital.” And she’s never forgiven me.

Kyle didn’t stiffen. Didn’t recoil.

He just held her closer, his heartbeat steady against her ear. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “I’m so sorry, Sloan. I’m so sorry that you felt that hopeless.”

She gulped a breath, then wiped her tears away and sat straighter, searching his gaze. “Yeah, well . . . Evan just basically equated his mistake of cheating on me with my mistake of wanting to die.”

His hands rose and cupped her face, his palms warm with careful pressure, thumbs brushing away the last of the wetness on her cheeks like she was something breakable he intended to protect. “He’s a bastard. But I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”

She shook her head.

“Don’t let him use that to hurt you right now. People say all sorts of things when they’re trying to save their own pride. For some reason, sorry is always last on that list.”

She blinked a few more times, searching his face, her pulse returning to a normal pace. His eyes, a light blue with a more vibrant, darker blue radiating from his pupils like sundials . . . God, they were so familiar.

Too comforting.

She found herself startled to believe how well she still registered it all. His hands, his voice, the heat of his body through layers of clothing. She had been little more than a girl when she used to stare into those eyes, letting herself get lost in the comfort of his arms, the softness of his kisses.

“You didn’t,” she whispered.

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“You didn’t say anything mean when I broke up with you—when I hurt your pride. You didn’t pick the worst thing about me and throw it back in my face.” Her mouth dried. “I did, though. I was horrible to you. You were just a kid, trying to pass your classes. Trying to pay your way through college. Dealing with your own stuff. Of course you couldn’t have just taken a semester off to nurse my wounds. Yet I screamed at you. Called you names.”

Kyle looked away, jaw working once. “Sloan . . . it was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry, though.” She said it because she needed him to hear it. Maybe even hear herself say it. “I don’t think I said it well enough last night, but I am. I was a mess. I fell apart after Mom died, and I took it out on you.”

He leaned his head back against the wall. “I knew all that already. I understood that when it happened.”

She sat back on her heels, her chest aching. “But I didn’t. I didn’t get it for a long time. Maybe not even until after I was forced into therapy.” She stared at her hands. “I threw so much away, including you, and I didn’t care.”