Page 55 of The Route to You

She looked like someone who’d been surviving.

“Your turn, Popeye,” Sloan said, breaking into his thoughts.

He rubbed his cheek, dragged back into the room. “Is it really that swollen?”

“Enough.” Sloan grinned that spoke of teasing rather than sympathy. Which was good. Sympathy made him feel like glass.

Francesca cracked one eye open. “You really should have put some honey on it like I told you. My grandma was the queen of home remedies, and that one really works for bruises.”

Dean glanced up and shook his head slowly as Kyle rolled the die. “Those off-piste jumps are always the ones that get you.”

“He was just trying to impress the girl,” Francesca sing-songed, then shot Sloan a wink.

Kyle shot Francesca a look. “I didn’t⁠—”

“Nah,” Dean cut in, saving him. “I know Kyle. He chases his highs with adrenaline.” He chuckled. “Didn’t you see that episode where he was bungee jumping in Switzerland? I sure as hell wouldn’t do that one. And if you pushed me . . . well, let’s just say I’d be praying I wore brown pants that day.”

Sloan snorted as she gave Kyle an amazed look. “So, you really do make YouTube videos?”

Francesca’s mouth opened in theatrical outrage. “You haven’t seen him?”

Sloan shook her head, looking suddenly self-conscious. “I—no.”

“He’s got side quests that all of us normies just dream of.” Francesca had already started crawling toward the side table. She grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV. “Look,” she said, pointing at the screen. “You’re on our shortcuts, Kyle.”

Kyle covered his eyes. “God. I hate watching myself.”

Sloan grabbed his forearm and tugged it down like she was physically pulling him back into the moment. The contact shot another spark up his skin—nothing dramatic, just enough to make him hyperaware of the fact that she was that close. “Oh wow, you weren’t kidding,” she said, scanning the screen. “Look at all those episodes.”

He moved the game piece on the board. “Why don’t we just pretend we watched it and finish the game?”

“Are you kidding? This is much more entertaining,” Francesca said, scrolling through episodes with glee. “How’s your ass, by the way? Recovered from landing in the cactus?”

Great. Apparently, Dean and Francesca really did keep up with his show. “Fine, thanks,” he said with a shake of his head.

“You fell into a cactus?” Sloan turned toward him with wide eyes.

Dean rolled his eyes. “He’s a moron. He was wearing shorts in the desert.”

“Actually, Tomas threw a football, and I just didn’t look before I jumped to catch it.”

“They caught it on video, you know.” Francesca scrolled to the episode. “Here, watch.” His voice blasted through the speakers, narrating the opening.

Kyle winced.

Dean set the guitar down and took a pull from his beer. “It’s better than watching video of yourself playing an instrument. You know what they say about the faces guitarists make when they’re lost to the music.”

Francesca’s eyes sparkled. “Can confirm the rumors are true.”

“That is way more information than I needed. I’m never watching you play again,” Kyle said with a laugh. Sloan’s laugh joined his a beat later, and the sound did something to him. Something stupidly tender.

They watched long enough for Kyle to fully regret ever agreeing to be filmed and somewhere in the middle of it, Sloan shifted closer on the couch, her leg bumping his knee.

She didn’t move away.

“You’re really good at this,” Sloan said, sneaking a glance back at him. “I’m impressed.”

“What, playing a country bumpkin? Yeah, it’s a real talent.”