Page 95 of The Route to You

“I mean now, Sloan.”

“Oh, well then, there’s nothing to report. Because we are not together.”

“Who says you have to be together? And didn’t you just say he’s moving in? That’s a pretty huge step.”

Sloan sighed and adjusted her purse strap. “I’m just lending him a room until his apartment is ready. That’s all. And it was my idea, not his. I’m not even sure he’s entirely comfortable with the prospect, but his family is driving him up the wall, and I wanted to help him out. There is no romance, no sex, no anything. And that’s the way it’s probably going to stay.”

“Boo,” Cheyenne said in a theatrical voice. “That is so not fun.”

“You know what’s not fun? Not having any practical job skills to make you hirable. Evan really screwed me by insisting I not work.”

“That was entirely about control, you know. How else could you be his little puppet princess who did whatever he wanted while he fucked around?”

Wow, that was refreshingly honest.

Still, Sloan’s heart ached at the thought, and she said, “Yeah, well, I just spent a couple of hours walking around Main Street in the town closest to my new house, trying to think of anything I can actually do to earn back my independence. I came up with nothing. I’m going to do my best to try to make it on my own without dipping into my dad’s money, but it feels so bleak right now.”

“You can do it,” Cheyenne said, her tone reminding Sloan of an instructor at a spin class.

“Can I, though? I thought Nashville would feel like coming back home, but I’m starting to realize I’m a stranger here now. I don’t know if I fit here.”

“It’s been a handful of days. You have to give yourself some time. Maybe . . . I don’t know, go out on some dates or something. Join a gym. Do stuff to meet people.”

Dates? “I don’t know if I’m ready to date.”

“Again, I’m not suggesting a long-term commitment, babe. Just socializing. Especially if you’re not interested in Kyle. It might help you both if you’re dating.”

Sloan grimaced. I didn’t say I wasn’t interested, either.

A woman with dark brown hair streaked with bright blue, and intricately tattooed arm sleeves approached. “Oh, we’re not open until four, sorry,” she said to Sloan, reaching for the door.

Sloan stepped away from the window. “Oh, sorry, no I was just⁠—”

“Sloan?” the woman said, tilting her head. “Sloan Carrington?”

Oh . . . yikes. The way she said it made Sloan think she should know who she was, but she couldn’t place the woman for the life of her. “Call you back,” she said to Cheyenne, then hung up. “Yes? Do I know you?”

The woman laughed. “Probably not. I mean, you used to, but it’s been a while. Delilah Bloom. We were friends in middle school.”

Delilah? Sloan remembered a mousy, shy brunette who sat at Sloan’s lunch table in eighth grade. But she never in a million years would have recognized her.

Delilah seemed to realize this. “It’s probably easier for me to remember you, considering you pop up in the news every now and then. Or the alum newsletter.”

Oh . . . Sloan bit her lip. Oh no. This was something she hadn’t really considered about moving back here—that of the people following everything with Evan in January, the only people who would continue to link her to it would be people who’d once known her.

“I’m sorry,” Sloan said, giving her an apologetic smile. “It’s just been a really long time. Do you work here?” She nodded toward the paint shop.

“Yeah, I own it. You thinking of coming and painting sometime?”

“I’d love to. I’ll have to figure out when I can.”

Delilah tilted her head. “I remember you being really good at art. Winning a lot of the school contests. Do you still paint?”

“I dabble,” Sloan said politely. “I got my degree in it but mostly let it go over the years. Though I took some refresher oil classes over the last few years and loved it. It was a great stress relief.”

“I always say art is like oxygen. Helps you breathe, you know?” Delilah lifted a key ring, and it jangled as she slid a key into the lock. “But, yeah, sorry, I’m not open yet. If you want to come back later, you can take a look at some of the projects we have coming up. Or you can look at our website.”

“No problem.” Sloan looked down the street. “I was just walking down the street putting some job applications in and wanted to peek through the window.”