Page 166 of Sloane

I decided not to come downstairs with Millie before Sloane left in the morning. He didn’t deserve to see her one last time.

But even with my anger and bravado, I still found myself hoping he’d manage to come up the steps and pound on my door, demanding to see her. Then he’d realize he couldn’t just leave us. Or at least not his daughter.

Except, he didn’t. He simply got in Ryan’s car and drove off without even a text.

That hurt way worse than him not responding to my letter when he was in San Antonio.

He’d met Millie now. Held her in his arms. Kissed her fuzzy little head. And he’d still walked away.

I stared at my little girl sleeping peacefully without a care in the world, not being able to fathom how he could do that. I’d die for her. How could he not feel the same?

Any dreams I’d been harboring about us being a happy little family someday were officially dead.

Chapter Sixty

Ashley

Crash and Stu went out of their way to be nice to me for the next few days. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my accident or because Sloane left. Maybe both.

Sloane seemed to become he-who-shall-not-be named, as they were careful not to talk about him.

At least until the following Tuesday when a shiny black Jeep showed up in our driveway, and the guy in overalls who delivered it produced a set of keys along with a large manila envelope bearing my name, then told us to have a nice day.

“Do you think Jeff bought you a Jeep?” Stu wondered out loud as I stood dumbfounded at the door.

“No, of course not.”

But I had a sneaky suspicion who did.

Inside the envelope was the title signed over to me by Sloane with a sticky note in his neat handwriting that said, I won’t be needing this for a while, so it made sense to give it to you. I know you’re going to need a car, at least until yours gets fixed. Consider it my half of what you had to spend during your pregnancy (although I doubt this even comes close to half, but it’s a start).

I wanted to cry. He had no idea the weight that had just been lifted off me with this. The extra fifty dollars a month in my pocket from changing my insurance coverage wasn’t worth the headache I was going through now. Especially since the other driver hadn’t even bothered to carry any insurance at all.

My pride was screaming at me not to accept it, but my desperate side told it to shut up. So, I compromised and told myself I’d give it back to him once he was able to drive again.

Also inside was paperwork for a bank account that had been created yesterday. It was a custodial account with his name, my name, and Millie’s name. The balance read: $1,500, and there was another sticky note, also in his handwriting.

I will still honor my word and sign any paperwork you want terminating my rights. But that doesn’t end my financial obligation to her (and you). I’ll deposit this amount every month, but if you need anything more, just let me know.

--Sloane

He’d underlined “anything” and left an address that I knew was on the base.

“That son of a bitch,” I muttered.

He didn’t get to come in and be the hero. I was fucking pissed at him; my anger was the only thing keeping me from breaking down about losing him all over again. How dare he try to take that from me.

Neither Stu nor Crash had any shame about reading over my shoulder, and I’d been too flabbergasted to try to shield the envelope’s contents.

Stu let out a low whistle.

“He’s a dick, but that’s some pretty Daddy Warbucks shit right there.”

“Yeah,” Crash added, “I want to cut his balls off, but I’ll give him some props for stepping up—monetarily anyway. It’s still fucked up how he just bailed, though.”

Stu nodded. “Agreed.”

“Agreed,” I said as I walked toward the family room.

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