Page 58 of The Route to You

Kyle froze.

She must have seen the surprise in his face because she moved back to the side of the bed like she was giving him distance even while asking for closeness. “There’s really no reason for you to sleep out on the couch, you know. It’s not like we haven’t slept in a bed together before. And you took a nasty spill there at the end today.”

He weighed the question.

Respect. Safety. Boundaries.

A million invisible rules existed now that hadn’t when they were teenagers. But she didn’t look like someone trying to seduce him. She looked like someone who wanted . . . not to be alone tonight. Like someone who just needs a friend.

And the goddamned truth was that his body ached. His brain ached. He wanted sleep more than he wanted pride.

“All right.” He moved around to the other side of the bed. “I’m keeping the sweatpants on,” he said gruffly, half-joking. “Just so we’re clear.”

A tiny smile turned the corners of her lips up. “Noted.”

She turned off the light. He felt for the covers, then slid in, keeping a careful inch of space between them like the mattress had a line drawn down the center. As his weight settled on the mattress, he stared up at the ceiling he couldn’t see, his heart squeezing tighter.

Then she shifted, and her hand found his arm under the blanket, hesitant. “So,” she said softly into the dark, “you’re an adrenaline junkie, eh? Maybe I should have guessed you’d still be athletic.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m just willing to try anything once.”

She made a sound that was almost a laugh. “I’d say it goes a bit further than that. And honestly, it’s impressive, Kyle. I didn’t really take you seriously when you said you were a travel influencer, but you were a bit too humble. I had no idea the extent of it.”

He set one hand behind his head. “Well, what am I supposed to say? I’m a big deal? How dare you to not have heard of me? But seriously. Do you live under a rock or something?”

Sloan shoved him lightly. “Gee, thanks. Actually, I don’t spend a lot of time on social media either. It makes my anxiety worse.”

“Granny always used to say that it lulls people into thinking they exist in the community they’ve stopped trying to build in real life.”

“That can be true. There can be community online for some people, but it can’t be your everything, I think,” she said and her hand tightened on his forearm. “You must miss Granny a lot. I know how close you were.”

He let out a slow breath. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry I’ve gotten in the way of you being able to put her to rest. Properly.”

“Is it weird that her ashes are out in the car? I feel like maybe I should have brought them in with everything else, but it also feels weird bringing my grandmother’s ashes into someone else’s home.”

“Death is weird.” Sloan’s words were simple, like that was the whole truth and it didn’t need decorating. Then she turned her body toward him, her hand sliding carefully until her palm rested over his bicep. “It takes time to figure out how to live through the grief. But it seems like you’re doing a good job handling it.”

His chuckle felt a lot more bitter than it sounded. “What can I say, I’m an expert deflector.”

“You are. Just be careful. You have to let yourself live through it, too.”

He cleared his throat, desperate to change the subject. “Hope Francesca and Dean weren’t too intrusive or anything, by the way.”

“You kidding? I love them. They’re the cutest couple ever. And they seem so happy together, too.” Her sigh was soft. “The way they anticipate each other’s needs, are relaxed, happy, touchy, even the way they simply enjoy hanging together . . . Evan and I never had that. We didn’t ‘hang’ like that. We went to events . . .” She sighed again. “They make love look so easy.”

“It is.” And then, because his mouth always moved faster than his brain, he felt the need to add sarcastically, “But yeah, they make me sick.”

Sloan laughed lightly. “You’re such a romantic.”

“Look, romance is nice and everything, but a bottle of lotion and a tissue has never let me down.”

She poked his ribs. “Gross.”

“Honest,” he shot back with a chuckle. “But speaking of things we’re not talking about, what do you do with your time these days? Did you finish your degree in art?”

“Yeah, but I never did anything with that. I worked for my dad for a few years during and after college and then I moved out to Bozeman with Evan and quit. I talked to him about getting another job, but he didn’t really want me to.”