Page 38 of The Route to You

She stilled, her eyes locking with his. “What?”

“I didn’t want to lie to her, or to you. You don’t deserve that, and I’m a terrible liar. But Davy is my friend⁠—”

“She’s also Evan’s friend,” Sloan snapped, anger rushing in so fast it blurred her thoughts. “She’s going to go straight to Evan.”

“I asked her not to. And she promised me she won’t, for now. And that, if she does, she’ll tell me before she does.”

Sloan wrenched her hand free of his grip. “I thought I could trust you.”

“You can. That’s why I’m telling you the truth now rather than waiting until the lies pile up, leaving you feeling even more betrayed.”

Sloan crossed her arms hard. Rage wanted somewhere to go, and Kyle was conveniently in front of her.

“I know it’s not what you wanted, and you can be angry, but you’ll have to talk to Evan eventually and the last thing I want is to complicate anything further with lies that will hurt people like Davy.”

On the one hand, she understood.

On the other— God dammit.

She hated that he’d decided for her.

“You couldn’t have waited for . . . a day? You know. Respected my wishes?”

Kyle’s jaw tensed. “Evan filed a missing persons report, Sloan.”

The words landed like a slap.

“He’s suggesting that you might have been taken.” Kyle’s gaze held hers, steady. “This whole messy, not talking to people thing is about to get a whole lot worse.”

Motherfucker.

Her hands clenched until her nails bit into her palms. “Of course he did,” she hissed. “Because why in the hell would I leave him if I wasn’t forced? He’s so perfect, right? No one would ever willingly walk away from Congressman Evan Tipton.”

She stalked toward the car. “Come on,” she snapped. “Let’s go.”

Kyle didn’t move right away. He stared at her like she’d grown antlers. “You still want to go?” The doors unlocked as he approached.

She flung the passenger door open and climbed in, irritation prickling under her skin. “Yes, I want to go.”

Kyle got behind the wheel, still watching her out of the corner of his eye like he wasn’t sure what version of her was going to show up next.

“Don’t you see?” Sloan said, voice rising. “I left a note. I left my engagement ring. I emailed him pictures of the goddamned evidence.” Her throat burned. “And that’s not good enough. What does he do? He tracks my phone, goes knocking on cabin doors like a psycho. Files a fucking missing persons report. Don’t you get it?”

She was practically shouting now as Kyle started the car, still staring straight ahead. He didn’t interrupt though.

She unzipped the coat he’d bought her, feeling like she’d burst out of her own skin if she didn’t. “He’s not only trying to save face, he’s trying to force me to talk to him. I ignored years of red flags, thinking that we’d be happy because of the occasional good times. But he cheated, Kyle, and I don’t believe that I should just ignore that and go through with the marriage. I’m sick of feeling . . . manipulated.”

For some reason, it wasn’t just the way he’d cheated, but the way he’d told Felicity to let that journalist into Sloan’s wedding prep right after she’d declined. Again. Evan knew Sloan loathed the spotlight. That she liked reporters and journalists even less. That she wanted to keep some things from their wedding private.

And what had he said? “If I can handle a few photos, so can Sloan.” Like the opinion she’d voiced didn’t matter. Like she didn’t get the final say because that rested with him.

Her voice shook with anger. “I’m done with that. Now, I get to do something—have my say —and if I don’t feel like fucking talking to him for a few hours , that’s my call. Not his.”

The anger hit with a force she hadn’t expected it to.

Not tears—she didn’t want to cry.

She wanted to punch something.