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“Leaving.”

His stomach bottomed out. Pain blazed through his chest, and his throat squeezed shut. “Why?” he grated.

“It’s time.”

“Is Marigold okay?” His sharp tone and question made her jerk her gaze to his.

Her lips were white with tension. “She’s fine. It’s just time I go home and be a mother to her.”

With a violent move, she zipped the suitcase and hefted it to the floor. At that moment, the crunch of tires outside the bungalow threw him for an even bigger loop.

Sloane gripped the handle of her luggage, tossed her other bag over her shoulder and took off past him toward the door.

He threw out an arm, stopping her.

When her gaze met his, the depths shifted with what he could only see as pain.

“Sloane. Don’t do this,” he roughed out. “Whatever happened, let’s talk it through.”

Shaw’s deep voice projected from the hallway. “I look forward to working with them next Monday. I’m sure I have some new things to teach them.”

She winced. Creases of pain extended in twin lines between her brows. She dodged Dylan and took off for the door. Before he could gather his wits and think of a way to stop her from walking away forever, she rushed on.

“What the—” Shaw broke off.

Dylan ran after her with Shaw right behind. “Sloane, stop! Wait!”

She tossed a glance over her shoulder. “There’s no point, Dylan. You’ve been great, but it’s time for me to go. I wish you the very best.” She whipped open the front door.

He reached it at the same time but couldn’t stop her before she took off running toward the waiting car, struggling with her heavy suitcase.

“Sloane, what the hell is going on?” Shaw nudged by Dylan and leaped into her path.

Without even a glance for him, she jumped into the car. The Boot Knocker who’d driven it over here for her was walking away at a brisk clip, knowing better than to get into the middle of the situation.

Dylan and Shaw would both be called into the office. When a client left on bad terms, the Boot Knockers were scrutinized to see where they went wrong. Their contracts stated that they could even be put on probation, though Dylan had never witnessed it himself.

“Sloane!” Shaw wedged his body in the door, blocking her from slamming it.

“I can’t do this again, Shaw.” Dylan couldn’t see her face, but whatever Shaw saw in her expression had him stumbling back a step.

She slammed the door and gunned it away from the bungalow, leaving them gaping after her.

“Oh god.” Dylan grabbed his head, as if holding it would stop the pain flooding through his entire being.

“Fuck!” Shaw bent forward, both hands on his knees, broken.

Dylan could hardly breathe. She was gone.

And she took his heart with her.

She held it in her hands—didn’t even know it. He’d been such an idiot. He should have confessed his feelings to her, even if he could barely make sense of them.

“I should have said something—anything—to make her stay.”

Shaw issued a long groan like an animal in extreme pain. “I don’t understand what happened.”

He dropped his hands to stare at his fellow Boot Knocker. “Are you fucking kidding me? You were pacing right outside the bathroom door. She must have heard you talking about the coaching job!”