Page 41

S leep came for me quickly and, for the first time in a long time, nightmares did not plague me. The soreness throughout my body from the spiking then falling adrenaline, the emotional whiplash that left me raw, led to slumber's firm grip.

Once I woke the following morning, I ambled into the kitchen. Sloane was already in the living room, sitting with her back to the boarded up, broken glass doors. The rough wooden planks filtered the sunlight into a dull, hazy glow.

The floor had been swept clean, but I still sensed the remnants of last night’s chaos. Tiny shards of glass clung stubbornly in the corners, hidden from plain sight but impossible to ignore once you knew they were there.

What was missing was even more noticeable. The distinct absence of the coffee table I'd slammed Angie into. A lumpy, old dog bed that sat empty by the window.

It all screamed that Angie had been there. She'd broken in. Crossed a line .

I slid onto the couch beside Sloane, needing to be near her. Last night had driven a wedge between us and I feared any amount of distance from her; physical or emotional. "Hey," I said, my voice hoarse.

"Hi." She was quiet and thoughtful as she cradled a cup of coffee, her hands wrapped around the warm mug. “Rufus is doing better.”

“Good. Did they do X-rays?"

She nodded, her gaze flickering back toward the window, her mind still seemingly far away. “Yeah, the clinic did everything they could: bloodwork, X-rays, you name it."

"That's great," I said. I pondered how I could ask what was eating at me without it sounding odd or out of place.

Fuck it, just ask.

"Did they find anything else?"

Sloane looked at me, her eyes narrowed and lips parted, but she didn't speak.

"Sloane?"

It took her a moment before she said, "Yeah… they did, actually. Cancer."

Oh, thank fuck they found it.

I did my very best to act surprised and shocked. "Cancer? Seriously?"

"Seriously," she said with an exhale. "It's a miracle that Charlie found it. It's very small. Operable. They anticipate he'll make a full recovery."

My jagged memories of losing Rufus in my past life, of not even being in the same state when he died, collided with a wave of relief flooding through me. My old boy was going to make it. He was going to be okay.

I nodded, tears in my eyes, and cleared my throat. "Cancer on top of everything else? A good boy like Rufus doesn't deserve that. "

Sloane saw the emotion on my face and reached a hand out to touch my cheek. "Levi, this is good news. We caught it in time. There are so many pet owners that aren't this fortunate."

"I know. You're right."

She gave a dry laugh. "Honestly? That damned dog is super lucky to have gotten hurt when he did. Otherwise, we probably wouldn't have known until it was too late."

I leaned into the comfort of her palm against my face, her hand hot from holding her coffee.

She said, "And to top it off, Charlie's nonprofit is going to cover his treatments."

What in the actual fuck?

The night before, I had been far too exhausted, too distracted, too panicked by the relentless onslaught of events, I hadn't given much thought to those words.

Charlie's nonprofit.

Did Charlie have a nonprofit in my previous life? I honestly didn't know. That doesn't seem like a thing I would forget… but it also wasn't a thing that the Old Me would have paid any goddamn attention to.

You were too busy shoving your head up your ass and your cock into Angie to notice much else.

I had to stop spiraling and say something. I don't know what was on my face at that moment, but Sloane looked concerned as she watched me process this oddity.

"Wow," I said with genuine shock and mock gratitude, "I didn't realize his nonprofit could cover that much."

"Benefits of being an employee, I suppose.

" She withdrew her hand from my face, sipped her coffee, then continued.

"Charlie only started the nonprofit recently.

He had some really well-timed investments skyrocket.

He made enough to found the nonprofit and buy out the clinic's previous owner.” She trailed off, but her voice sang with relief and admiration.

I forced a smile that probably looked like cracked plaster smeared over a hole. "Wow," I repeated like an idiot, "what a lucky guy."

Thankfully, Sloane didn't see how unhinged I had to look. She stared off, appearing wistful, as she let loose a soft laugh. "Yeah, it was like he’d won the lottery. He barged into the clinic and lifted me off my fee- ” She stopped. Her words twitched between us, like a thread waiting to be pulled.

Fuck me, when was this? How long ago?

I didn't say anything, though. I didn't trust myself to say anything. Instead, I gave her time and space to speak.

She shifted on the couch, her eyes wide and fearful. She was expecting me to explode, to rage, to break things; the Old Me would have.

When she spoke, her voice was filled with trepidation. “Levi... nothing happened. He gave me a hug. A spinning, affectionate, and 'inappropriate for the workplace' hug. But that's it.”

Sloane has never lied to you. Not in this life or the previous one.

I nodded as I tried to quell the rush of confusion and dread rising inside me. "My love, you're preaching to the choir over here. In what reality do I have the right to be angry over a hug? Really… it's okay."

Relief evident in her posture, she relaxed, "I think anybody would have had that reaction, right? Being able to quit working for somebody else and focus on your own dreams?"

"Of course."

We fell into silence for a time .

My thoughts were a chaotic mess, each one tumbling out faster than the one before it. I didn't know how to process these feelings, these revelations. It was all too much to unpack in that moment.

“When can we get Rufus?” I asked. The question felt out of place, but I needed something to ground me, distract me.

Also, I missed my old boy.

Sloane leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder. Her scent threatened to overpower me: lavender, honey, citrus. She murmured, “They'll call us. But hopefully soon."

I felt Sloane shift.The tension in her body told me she was still processing everything that had happened. She was so strong holding it all together, but I could see it in her eyes. The fear of what might be unfolding that none of us could fully understand yet.

"Levi," she whispered, "what if this… what if all of this is bigger than we think?"

I wrapped an arm around her, pulled her against me.

I wanted to reassure her, but the truth?

I didn’t know how to. I could plan and place pieces in hopes that things would go my way, but nothing felt certain anymore.

Nothing felt solid, not even the ground beneath me.

The world had become this swirling mess of possibilities, and I was just grasping at whatever I could hold on to.

I looked into her hazel eyes, those fierce, fiery, stubborn eyes, and in that moment, all the chaos faded to the background.

Even with the world broken and laden with uncertainty, there was no one else I would rather be facing this mess with.

No one else I wanted beside me as we tried to find a way forward.

Gently, I cupped her cheeks in my hands, my thumbs brushing her soft skin. “It will be okay. We will work as a team. Together. ”

She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I just don’t know if I can handle anything else, Levi. Everything… everything’s too much.”

I leaned forward, pressed my forehead to hers, and closed my eyes as I felt the connection between us. I reminded myself why I had to keep going. I whispered, “You don’t have to handle it alone. Not anymore. Never again.”

She didn’t pull away when I kissed her, delicate and reverent, letting my lips linger at the corner of her mouth before trailing down to the warm hollow of her neck. Her breath shuddered into me, her body tight with all the things she was still holding in.

“I know a few ways to help you relax, my love,” I whispered, the words slipping out like a promise.

She chuckled, low and unexpected, the sound curling around my ribs and anchoring itself deep inside my chest. “Since when have you been so quick to offer?” she asked, voice teasing but eyes still watchful.

“Since I realized I can’t live – hell, I can’t even breathe – without you.”

That earned me a real look. She peeked up through thick lashes, her cheeks tinted rose, lips parted just slightly. “You are such a sneaky devil,” she said softly, the edge of a smile ghosting across her face.

"Only for you." I brushed my thumb across the bottom of her lip, enjoying the way her lips parted for me.

“Does Charlie really scare you?” she asked.

The question, sharp and serrated, sawed through my ribs, twisted my heart in barbed wire. I jerked away, face hot, stomach sick.

I was afraid of Charlie because of what he represented. What I could lose her to if I wasn't careful .

I exhaled a slow and shaky breath. The truth ached in my chest. “I will not lie to you, Sloane. I am afraid to lose you. Terrified of losing you.”

She pressed her lips together, and I felt a pang of longing. I wanted to kiss her. Bite her bottom lip. Suck until she gasped my name. I wanted her to feel how much I meant every word.

“I know you, Levi,” she whispered. "I know you like I know myself. Or at least, I thought I did until you fucked everything up." There was no accusation in her voice, just the quiet certainty that came from years of scars and secrets.

I chuckled under my breath, heeding her tone and knowing she meant no harm. “That you do. As I know you, Sloane… and I can tell by how hard your nipples are, talking isn't what you want to do right now.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop with the jokes. We’re having a serious conversation.”

“Yeah,” I said with a heavy breath, “it’s just hard to be serious when all I can think of is how badly I want to taste you right now.”

Her breath hitched, barely, but I caught it. That little tremble. That tiny falter in her resolve. The thought of my tongue working at her was under her skin.

“Sloane,” I said, my voice low, “can we not talk about another man right now? Not when you’re right here, looking like sin itself, and I’m starving for you.”

She arched an eyebrow, a challenge simmering in her gaze. “What are you suggesting?” she asked.

I leaned in, brushing my lips along her jaw. “I’m saying… you could sit on my face and let me remind you what it feels like to be worshipped. ”

Her lips parted in shock then amusement. I smirked.

“Or,” I whispered, “you could open that pretty mouth and let me forget everything else for a while.”

Her breath caught again, this time sharper. I felt the heat building between us, undeniable and raw.

But I didn’t move in yet. I waited.

Let her come to me. Let her choose.

Time crawled tortuously while she contemplated her next action. I waited, ever patient. Slowly, her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip.

She moved forward without a word, her hand trailing down my chest, over the firm lines of my stomach, until her fingers brushed the waistband of my sweatpants. Her touch was tentative at first, like testing a bridge that had once collapsed. I didn’t rush her. I didn’t dare breathe.

Her fingers dipped beneath the band.

I swallowed hard, my eyes locked on her, burning with the quiet plea I couldn’t voice: Let me be enough for you again.

She leaned in, close enough for her breath to warm my jaw. “Don’t you dare move,” she whispered in the low and sultry tone she knew shattered me. She was in control, then. Completely.

Her fingers undid my fly with practiced ease, like muscle memory, like she hadn’t forgotten.

She pulled my pants down and wrapped her hands around my hard cock. And then she sank to her knees.

Good fucking god.

I gripped the edge of the couch as she looked up at me, her lashes fluttering like velvet against her cheeks, lips inches away from the part of me that throbbed in her presence .

“Still think denial is funny?” she whispered, teasing. But there was something else there; something darker. Need? Power?

“No,” I choked out. “Not anymore.”

Her mouth brushed the tip of my head, a feather-light kiss, and I shuddered.

Then she opened her mouth.

Heat exploded in my spine. My hips jerked but her hands were already there, pressing me back down, setting the pace at her command.

Languid. Torturous. Intentional. She was in complete control and we both knew it.

She hollowed her cheeks and sucked deeper, her leisurely rhythm maddening.

Her fingers curled around my base, twisting as her mouth worked me over, and I couldn’t hold back the groan that tore from my chest. I braced one trembling hand on her head, not to guide her but to anchor myself. She didn’t stop. She didn’t flinch.

Fuck, she is magnificent .

When her eyes flicked up again, locking on mine, it nearly undid me. I saw the challenge there. Her eyes screamed, " Do you still think you’re in charge? "

I didn’t. Not anymore.

“Sloane,” I gasped, fingers tightening in her hair, my body pulled tight like a bowstring. “You – fuck – you feel like heaven.”

Her tongue flicked along the underside, her pace unrelenting now, deliberate and devastating. She didn’t let up. And I knew she was punishing me by owning me with pleasure. By reminding me exactly who the hell I belonged to.

And, gods, I let her. Because she did own me. She always had.

When I finally came, it was with her name ragged on my lips, my vision blurring as my body folded around the storm of her .

And even then, even in the release, there was something unspoken between us: Sloane held the reins of whatever fragile thing was left of us.