Page 169 of The Route to You

But he’d said he was doing this for him. And as hard as it was for her to accept that, not to object to something that frightened her so much, she wanted to be there for him in the way that he needed. She couldn’t keep expecting him to be the one who gave everything while she took.

Not anymore.

It’s my turn to sacrifice for him.

Sloan gazed straight out the window, her eyes settling on the mountains.

Kyle had always taken on more than he needed to for her. Even when they were teenagers, even when his mom had gotten into an accident and her mom was sick, he still allowed himself to be the one who had “less” to deal with.

She couldn’t hope to completely wipe away the way she’d hurt him when they were young. But she would never stop trying to prove to him that she loved him. He deserved that much. More, really.

She had to help him carry the burden.

He’d said he was fine after all that had happened—losing his grandmother, his career, his reputation—but she’d seen on his face that day she’d come from San Francisco how deeply he carried his grief. And he still hadn’t dealt with Granny’s ashes. That had been so important to him back in January, but he hadn’t mentioned it since reading that letter.

He’d lost his footing because of her, and she knew he was determined to use this event to prove himself.

But he didn’t need to prove he was strong. He needed someone to help him carry the weight.

Breathing out slowly, she said one more prayer—that what she did today would only help him and not hurt him at all. Because that was the last thing she wanted.

Then Sloan rose and went back out of the chapel. She pulled out the phone and called Penny as she walked slowly back to Cheyenne’s car.

“Hey,” Sloan said as Penny answered. “Is everything ready?”

“Yup,” Penny said, her voice surprisingly cheerful. “Margaret just got here and we’re just waiting for Ms. Larsen and the camera crew.”

Perfect.

Evan would make her pay any way he could for this, but hopefully Sloan’s lawyer would help. But it didn’t matter. The truth was all that mattered.

For Kyle.

For us.

43

KYLE

The sharp cold bit at Kyle’s cheeks as he checked over his gear, Dean at his side.

Hard to believe a year ago, they’d been in Breckenridge.

That my left shoulder and rotator cuff hadn’t been in his lexicon.

His shoulder was a bit sore from sleeping—nothing unusual—but all morning long he couldn’t help worrying that he hadn’t done enough. Wasn’t ready. Even with all the race-specific training over the last four months, doubt still crept at the back of his mind.

Don’t worry if you get it wrong. Granny’s words from her letter curled through his brain.

He needed to trust.

Trust that he’d done what was necessary to go about this intelligently.

Trust that he was making the right choice.

For over a year now, he’d been walking around with guilt and pain—pain he hadn’t understood until he’d cracked open that letter from Granny.

But what if it all blows up in my face?