Page 131 of It Happened on a Sunday
“You know you don’t get to take that back, right?” he says, voice thick with emotion even as his hands find me again.
“What?” I gasp, already struggling to hold on to language as the warmth spreads through me, slow, languid, all-encompassing.
“Your words, Sloane.” He cups my face. “When this is over, when the lights come back on and your walls start creeping back up, you don’t get to take them back. Not this time.”
“I—” The word catches as he finds the places inside me I’venever let anyone touch—physically or emotionally.
“Say it,” he murmurs. “Tell me you won’t take it back. Not when you’re scared. Not when it’s hard. Not when the world tries to pull you away from me.”
“I promise,” I whisper, and in that promise, I stop pretending. I stop protecting myself. “I’m not going to take it back. I love you, Mateo. I love you. I love you.”
This time when I say it I’m not scared, even a little. Because Sly’s got me. He’s got every broken, shattered, fucked-up piece of me, and I know he won’t drop a single one.
And I let it happen, because Sly will be there to catch me. To hold me.
To love me no matter what.
Chapter 56
Sloane
Floating back to earth takes a few minutes, but when I do, it’s to find that Sly’s gathered me in his arms.
He’s got a biceps underneath my head for a cushion, and his other arm is wrapped around me as his fingers toy with the ends of my hair.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes searching my features reverently.
“Not sure I can take credit for my face,” I answer. “But thank you.”
“You can’tnottake credit for it, either.” He presses a chaste kiss to my forehead. “It’s attached to you.”
“You know what I mean.” I take a moment to stroke his hair off his forehead. The same lock always falls forward, and though it’s sexy as fuck, I also like to look into his eyes when I’m talking to him.
“I do,” he agrees quietly. “But you never mention the people whoareresponsible for giving you that face. Not to mention all this gorgeous hair.”
“I’m happy to talk to you about my hair stylist whenever you want. Believe me, Marty will fight to the death with anyone else who tries to take credit for this hair.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” He sighs. “You never mention your parents.”
“And I’m not going to now, either.” I roll away from him and start to stand up, but Sly wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me back against him like he isn’t quite ready to let me go yet. “No reason to ruin a perfectly good morning.”
“Things were that bad with your mom and dad?” he asks, concerned.
“Not bad. More like…not that important.”
“I can’t imagine that.” He sounds shocked, and I get it. But not everyone has an abuela Ximena or three sisters in their lives. “They’re your family.”
“You don’t need to use thelet’s not send Sloane spiralingvoice. There’s no grand trauma here. My parents got divorced when I was young, and my dad wasn’t interested in sticking around. I barely knew him, so I never really missed him.
“As for my mom…” I shrug. “She got me into this business when I was just a kid. Said she never wanted my future to depend on the whim of a man. She wanted me to be able to take care of myself without working two jobs. Now she has a condo in Florida. I send her money every month, and she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”
“Including see her daughter?” he asks, and I can practically hear his brows rise.
“It works for the both of us. I swear.”
He still doesn’t look convinced, but I don’t want to spend any more time on this lack of a Greek tragedy, so I turn to face him. “It’s my turn to ask you something.” My discussion with Lucia yesterday is still fresh in my mind, and it’s made me wonder…
He gives me the slow grin that’s been making me feel too many things from the first moment I saw it. “Ask away, corazón.”
