Page 36 of Powerless
Harvey:I’m old. Not deaf.
Jasper:It’s fine. I’m fine.
Harvey:No, you’re not. None of us are. But you know what will make you feel better?
Jasper:What’s that?
Harvey:Fixing my wall. There’s spackling and a putty knife outside your door.
Jasper:Sorry, Harv. I’ll fix it. Promise.
Harvey:All good, son. Have you seen Sloane? Her door was open, and her room was empty.;)
. . . “Iwas wondering . . . well, I was thinking . . .” Sloane peeks up at me from under her lashes, hands twisting in front of her. She’s stunning. She’s grown up so much since last summer I almost can’t believe my eyes.
I came out to the ranch for Easter dinner and wasn’t expecting her to be here. We still mostly only see each other in the summer because, living in the city, she’s busy with dance and high school and I’m fully immersed in keeping this spot I have on the main roster with the Grizzlies.
I was about to leave when she ran after me to the door.
I drop my voice, resting my hands on her shoulder to look her in the eye. “Is everything okay, Sloane? You’re making me nervous. Did something happen? You know you can tell me anything.”
“Oh! No!” She laughs shrilly, cheeks turning pink as she pushes her loose blonde hair behind her ears.
A pit of dread grows in my stomach. It’s the eyelashes. The blushing. The nervous way she’s playing with her hair. And the fact that Harvey, Violet, and my brothers are all basically watching from the living room.
I’m not oblivious to the fact Sloane has had a crush on me. But I’ve pretended I am. Because shit is so much less awkward that way.
“Okay.” She smiles up at me nervously, and nerves roil in my stomach. “I’m just going to go ahead and say it.” She takes a deep breath. “Will you go to prom with me?”
Now she isn’t the only one blushing. I feel like my entire face is on fire. “Oh, Sunny.” My fingers pulse on her shoulders, and I get lost in the twinkle of hope in her eyes. Hurting Sloane is enough to make me feel like I might be sick.
I don’t want to disappoint her, but fuck . . . I can’t do this either. “I’m not the guy you want to go with. I’m . . .” I search for a good reason that isn’t just,I don’t want to lead you on.“I’m twenty-four. Really in the media right now. With you being in high school, I’m just not sure it would be a good look, you know?”
I try so hard to ignore that her eyes instantly fill. The too-fast way she nods her head. “Oh. Yeah.” She steps back from me, my hands falling from her shoulders, and she glances over at the living room. “Yeah. Of course. That makes perfect sense.”
“Still friends, right?” I reach forward, trying to give her forearm a reassuring squeeze. She tugs her arm back and forces a bright smile onto her face.
“Yeah. Of course. Still friends. Always.” With another frantic nod, she turns, but she doesn’t head back to the family gathering. She disappears down the hallway that leads to the upstairs bedrooms.
I feel like shit as I wave goodbye to a room full of wide-eyed, awkward-as-fuck family members. I don’t know what to say to them. I half expect someone to crack a joke, but no one says a word as I flee the house, and all that does is drive home how brutal that interaction was with Sloane.
Because even if there is a little part of me that thinks it would be kind of cute to go with her, I know I can’t.
She needs to go have fun at her prom. Make memories—with someone her own age. She needs to have the very best night, and I’m certain I can’t be the one to give her that.
Sloane Winthrop has grown into a woman who is smart, beautiful, and so damn talented. She has an entire life ahead of her with some shiny, rich boyfriend she’ll fall head over heels for while she pursues her higher education at some fancy, private university.
She doesn’t need the likes of me holding her back anymore.
I’ve almost convinced myself I did the right thing by the time I get to my truck. But when I pull away down the driveway, regret niggles at me. I glance up into the rearview mirror, and Sloane is there.
Sitting on that roof all by herself.
Probably realizing what I already know.
That I’m not good enough for her. Never have been. Never will be . . .
I wake up with Sloane’s forehead pressed into the center of my chest. Her hands are rolled into loose fists and clutched under her chin like she’s trying to keep herself from touching me in her sleep.
