Page 158 of It Happened on a Sunday
“That’s it, corazón,” Sly croons as he scoops me up and settles us both into the armchair beside the window. “Let it all out.”
So I do. Held in the arms of the man I love, I cry for all the times I never let myself cry before.
I cry for the traumatized girl who was branded “bad” after losing the first boy she’d ever loved.
I cry for the young woman who was brutalized in that swimming pool, who fled for her life and still wore the stigma of her abuser’s death around her neck through interviewsand award ceremonies, through meet-and-greets and attempted murders.
But most of all, I cry for the woman I am now, the one who made it through all of that and came out the other side not alone but with an entire community of people who lift her up. Who care if she lives or dies. Who love her because of who she is, not despite it.
“I’m sorry, Sloane,” Sly whispers in my ear. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t say that.” I cup his cheeks in my hands and wait until those beautiful, kind eyes of his finally meet mine before I say anything more. “I’ve built a whole career on pretending no one could love me. You proved me wrong. Don’t you ever apologize for that.”
“If I’d just left you alone, you wouldn’t be here—”
“You’re right. If you’d left me alone, Iwouldn’t be here. I’d still be locked inside myself, walled off from the world.” I bring his hand to my lips. “No matter what happens from here on out, I will always be grateful that you found me. That you see me. That you love me.
“The haters can take care of themselves, Sly. Because I’m not hiding anymore, and I’m not giving you up. We both walked through fire to be here, and fuck anyone who thinks they can take that away.”
Chapter 69
Sloane
A soft knock at the door has me drying my cheeks with my hands as Sly shelters me against his chest. Just because I’m okay lettinghimsee me cry doesn’t mean I want anyone else to. Especially not Bryan, who would probably make a crack about me melting.
It turns out it’s my nurse, with a very dubious-looking breakfast tray.
“I had them add an extra bagel for you, Sly,” Lena tells him as she sets the tray down next to my bed. “Just a heads-up that they’ll be coming at eleven to take you for imaging, Sloane. If everything comes back normal, Dr. Bhargava has signed orders for you to move to a regular room tonight for observation. If nothing goes wrong there, they’ll spring you bright and early Monday morning.”
I don’t know whether it’s what she said or how she said it, but it triggers something in my brain. “Did you say eleven o’clock?” I ask.
“Yes—the test is in about an hour.” Lena looks puzzled. “Is there a problem with that?”
“So it’s ten o’clock now?” I turn wide eyes on Sly.
“Just about, yeah.” He looks as confused as Lena, like he can’t quite figure out where I’m going with this. Which makes no sense at all.
“It’s ten o’clock on Sunday?” I reiterate, just to make sure I don’t have my days wrong. I did sleep through two of them, after all.
Lena nods.
Holy shit. I scramble off Sly’s lap. “What the hell are you stilldoing here?”
I see the moment he realizes what I’m saying and throws both hands in the air in defense. “I told Coach two days ago I wasn’t going to make the game.”
“What do you mean you’re not making the game?” I demand incredulously. “What about winning this game so you can make it to the Super Bowl? What about owing Austin a ring? What about your dream of bringing the Lombardi Trophy back to Texas? This game is what you’ve been working toward all season!”
Sly shrugs. The manactuallyshrugs, even as the corners of his mouth turn up in the beginnings of a grin. “Turns out none of that means anything without you.”
“Oh, no!” I tell him, slapping his hand back when he reaches for me. “You don’t get to pull that Prince Charming shit on me.”
The grin grows bigger. “So you think I’m charming?”
“What Ithinkis that you need to get your ass on a plane right now. What time is the game?”
“I think I’m going to let you two figure this out,” Lena says, but neither Sly nor I are paying any attention to her as she slinks out of the room. We’re too busy squaring off.
“You nearly died two days ago,” he growls, arms folded over his chest. “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you right now.”
