Page 138 of The Route to You

“You okay?” Kyle asked, looking down at her.

“I’m not really sure what I am.” She met his eyes. “I’m . . . shocked. Confused.” And a little hurt. “Why in the hell didn’t Penny tell me? Why leave it to my dad? My dad said she found out three months ago. And why is my dad coming out here? If he was planning on surprising me with this, why call and announce he’s showing up and then⁠—”

Kyle dragged his knuckles down her cheek softly, his thumb and forefinger holding her chin. “It sounds like you’re angry.”

Angry? She closed her eyes, breaking eye contact so she could think. “Yeah, I think I am. This fucking sucks, Kyle. I hate this, and not just because I’ve already dealt with the consequences of cancer in my life more than anyone should have to.”

“I know.”

He said that, but did he? How could he possibly understand? His family was . . . damn near perfect. His siblings, happily married. Same with his parents. They all got along—were there for each other. The Winnicks were practically a picture-perfect family.

. . . and then there were the Carringtons.

Mom, gone for eight years now, taken when Sloan was far too young.

Dad, a workaholic stiff robot.

And . . . Penny.

For a while, Penny had been the glue that had held Sloan and Dad together. The one who organized the rare family dinner or holiday celebrations. Once Sloan had started dating Evan, that had been easy to let go of, though, considering how miserable and awkward holidays with her family were. Not that the Tiptons had been warm and fuzzy, but at least they did their holidays in style—somewhere beautiful.

Though maybe that says more about me and my priorities back then than it says about the Tiptons.

But after Sloan had tried to take her own life, the frail relationship she’d had with Penny had crumbled. Neither of them wanted to talk about the ugliness of it.

But in one honest moment a few years ago, Penny had told her how she really felt. “I’m so mad at you. I already lost my mom, and you tried to deprive me of my sister. I know you’re going through a lot, but dammit, I am too.”

Sloan hadn’t known how to respond to that. The last thing she’d needed was to feel worse about what she’d done. Penny calling her selfish didn’t make her feel any better.

As a result, avoiding her became easy.

She breathed out slowly. “I should go get dressed. My dad is almost here. He’s going to assume a lot already once he finds you here, but I don’t think he needs to find me in underwear and your shirt.”

“I’ll try to straighten things up while you do that. I let the dogs out for my meeting—should I just leave them outside?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Dad doesn’t love pets.”

She headed for her room and caught a glimpse of the spare room she’d been painting the night before, since the doorway was open. The smeared paint, the memory of Kyle’s lips against her, was enough to send a pulse of warmth through her. She shut the door. If Dad asked for a tour, she’d just tell him she was using the room for storage. She didn’t want to share a view of that with him, even if he’d have no idea why the mural was a mess.

God, how am I going to explain Kyle? Even she didn’t know what they were.

Dad had liked Kyle, though he hadn’t been thrilled at the idea of the teenage boyfriend who had taken his daughter’s virginity. He’d said nothing to Sloan, of course—Dad was too awkward for something like that—but Mom had told her while handing her a box of condoms that Dad was “concerned about that boy.”

Little did Mom and Dad know that it had been Sloan who’d practically jumped Kyle after their fourth date. Not that he hadn’t reciprocated, but he never would have pushed her. That wasn’t Kyle.

Kyle had won Dad over by showing up, though. He’d even taken Mom to doctors’ appointments when Dad had a scheduling conflict.

Rather than figure out what to tell Dad by herself, though, she walked over to her phone and tapped out a message to Cheyenne.

Sloan: You’ll be glad to know that things with Kyle . . . are moving along.

Three bubbles appeared. Immediately. As though Cheyenne had nothing better to do than sit and wait for updates on Sloan’s sex life.

Then the phone rang in her hand.

“Tell me everything,” Cheyenne said before Sloan could get a word out. “Every last dirty detail.”

Sloan felt her cheeks warm, flicking a glance at the shower through the open bathroom door as she got dressed.