25. Sloane

CHAPTER 25

SLOANE

I ’m finishing up my shift at the library when I get a text from Cam.

Cam: It’s done

My heart pounds hard and fast as I stare down at those two words.

It’s done.

I’m assuming this means Cam talked with my dad. But he sure isn’t sharing too much info about the chat.

Sloane: How’d it go? How did he seem to you?

Sloane: What was his reaction, exactly?

Cam: He was fine

Gah. I’m gonna need more than that.

Sloane: What do you mean? Define ‘fine’

Cam: He took the news calmly. Doesn’t seem mad or anything

Cam: I’m going to Mustang’s with Nash and Nate. That’ll give you and your dad some space and time to talk

Oof. Thanks for that.

Sloane: You’re leaving me alone with him?!?

Cam: He’s your dad

Cam: And like I said, he’s fine. If anything, he’s more upset with me than you

Cam: And I wouldn’t say he’s upset. More like worried

Sloane: About what? You not being focused enough on football? Me being a distraction?

Cam: Sort of…

Cam: Pretty sure he’s more concerned about his little girl getting her heart broken again

A sharp pang radiates across my chest.

My dad’s worried about me getting hurt?

I never thought of him as the sensitive type, the sort of guy who’d be concerned with inconsequential things like feelings. Any time I had an issue with a boy at school, he’d send me straight to Mimi’s house. He never wanted to get involved with my love life.

Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do.

Sloane: You want company at the bar? I can blend in with the guys

Cam: Trouble, there’s zero percent chance you’re blending in. You’re a knockout

I blush at the compliment, although I’m not thrilled at the prospect of going home to hang with my dad. Alone, without Cam as a buffer.

Traitor.

Sloane: Nice sweet talk, Crawford

Cam: I’m just spitting facts

I send him a heart emoji and lean against the desk, grinning at my cell. The entire day feels surreal—I only wish I could avoid my dad for the next, oh, five or so years. Maybe longer.

Sloane: Are you coming home tonight? To my house?

Our house? The house? My dad’s house? I’m not exactly sure how to phrase it now.

Cam: Yeah, later. I get keys to the new place tomorrow AM

Cam: Can’t wait for you to see it

Sloane: Sam e

Although I’m a lot less excited about the actual house versus the man who’ll be living in it.

I can’t wait to be with Cam for real and do all the relationship-y things. Cook dinner together, cuddle while watching movies, finally have uninhibited sex. Free from the constant fear of my dad walking in and catching us in a compromising position.

Cam: My favorite room is the bedroom, wink-wink

And—these panties are officially trashed, wetness flooding the delicate satin.

Sloane: You’re a bad boy, Crawford

Cam: I know. That’s one of the things you love about me

He does have a point.

Sloane: I can name a few more too. Your pecs, your biceps, those abs…

Cam: Don’t stop there, babe

Fluorescent lights flicker and I glance over at the corner. The custodian’s leaning on his vacuum and shooting me a pointed stare.

Sloane: Sorry, gotta jet. Library’s closing

Sloane: Be a good boy tonight and maybe I’ll tell you the rest later

Cam: Such a teas e

I giggle as the ancient vacuum cleaner roars to life, loud and rattly.

“Night.” I wave at the custodian, but he ignores me, already jamming out to his music and moving back and forth across the carpet in straight lines.

I tap out one last quick text.

Sloane: See you later. XOXO

Cam: xoxo

Smiling, I toss my cell into my bag and whistle all the way to my car, trying hard to focus on the good things to come and not on the awkward-but-imminent conversation with my father.

“Daddy?” I call out as I push through the screen door. I’m fairly certain he’s home—his truck’s out front.

Silence.

He’s either in the shower or out back. I move into the dark kitchen, noticing the glow of the deck light through the window. Opting for some liquid courage, I grab a beer and pop the top before heading outside.

Sure enough, my dad’s sitting at the edge of the deck. His hat’s flipped backward and he’s leaning on his elbows, staring up at the stars. In the dim light, he could easily pass for late twenties, not middle-aged with a grown daughter.

Heavy emphasis on grown.

“Hey, Daddy.” I sink down next to him, my legs dangling over the edge of the deck. Kicking my sandals off, grass tickles the soles of my feet .

“Hey, baby. How was work?”

His tone is neutral, his expression blank. The man’s a freaking vault when it comes to his emotions. A trait that’s served him well as a coach, but is low-key annoying as his daughter.

“Good. Cam dropped by during Story Time. Took photos with the kids and signed autographs. It was a real highlight of the summer for them.”

His lips tip up a touch at this. “Bet they loved seeing a real-life professional football player.”

“They did.”

He takes a long sip of his beer, swallows. Cue the long, awkward pause. The only thing breaking the silence is crickets chirping, literally.

I clear my throat and forge ahead. “Cam said he talked to you after practice today.”

“He did.”

Ohmygod, this is beyond painful. Am I going to get the shortest answers possible until I have to pry it out of the man?

Okay, Sloane, just rip off the bandage. You’ve never been afraid to talk to your dad. Don’t start now.

“And? You good?”

“With what, exactly? Cam moving out?” He lifts his shoulders, shrugging. “Sure, that’s fine.”

“C’mon, Dad—” I punch him lightly on the arm, surprised at how strong he is. “You know what I mean. Are you going to make me say it?”

His lips twist into a smirk. “Yep.”

“Fine.” My face flames and a light trickle of sweat slips down my back. “Are you good with me and Cam dating?”

He sets his beer bottle down and faces me, his expression serious. “Sloane, the two of you can do what you want. You’re both adults.”

“I’m sensing a huge ‘but’ here?—”

“But I’d be lying if I said I was happy about it. Don’t get me wrong—” He lifts his bottle up and picks at the edge of the label. “I like Cam. A lot. Way more than that fella you were gonna marry. But?—”

“Ah, here it comes—” I press my tongue against the inside of my cheek and hold my breath, waiting for his admonishment.

“He’s a professional athlete. I see the appeal, believe me. He’s in good shape, handsome, makes good money, has an exciting life. Y’all are friends and always have been, so there’s history there. All good things.”

“So what’s the problem then?” I tap my toes in the grass, agitated. My dad’s not making a lick of sense right now. If Cam’s not good enough for me, no other man stands a chance.

“His lifestyle isn’t normal, stable. Cam’s gonna get picked up by a new team and he’ll be leaving Thunder Creek. Not that you’re here to stay or anything, I’m sure you have bigger plans—” He takes a shuddery breath and for the first time, I realize that my dad actually likes me being back home. Here, with him. I didn’t think he cared when I left for school, then moved to New Orleans with Ratface. I never considered that he might be lonely.

“Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing at the moment. I’m enjoying the job at the library, spending time with you, and Mimi and Poppa, hanging with Gracelyn. I haven’t made any decisions about the future yet.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt is all. And I don’t think Cam would do anything purposely, but that lifestyle comes with challenges. Real, tangible challenges. You won’t be number one—football will be. Are you good with that?” He cuts his eyes at me and I squirm under his questioning gaze.

“Sure.” The word wobbles out of my mouth and I don’t sound convincing, even to my own ears.

“And you’re good with women throwing themselves at him all the time? Messaging him, sliding into his DMs—that’s what people are doing these days, right?”

I laugh. “Yeah, Dad, that’s what people do these days. And yeah, obviously I wouldn’t love that. But I trust Cam.”

“And what happens if and when you want to settle down, have a family? And he’s traveling every week. That puts a strain on the relationship.”

“Dad. You do know there’s professional football players with families, right? Like, it’s a thing. Not everyone leaves—” My dad tenses beside me and I stop, bitterness flooding my body. I kick at the lawn for a long minute. Take a deep breath.

“Not everyone’s like Mom. Some people stay.”

“And some people don’t. It’s a hard, painful lesson to learn.” He peels the label all the way off the bottle and crumbles the paper into a ball, dropping it on the wood deck.

“So you’re never going to give anyone a chance? Ever again? All because of Mom?” My voice tips up and I hate how shrill I sound, how defensive.

Always the stoic, my dad doesn’t react. Instead, he takes a long pull from his beer. Crickets keep on chirping and for the first time in days, a slight breeze rustles the leaves in the trees.

“I don’t know.” His voice is low, barely above a whisper .

I shake my head, filled with sadness, disbelief, and an odd infuriation. How could this man be so stubborn, still, after all these years? Holding on to past grievances like they’re a lifeline, tethering him to her forever.

“Risk is a part of life, Dad. The game you love—that’s risk. Every time a player steps onto the field, they’re taking a risk. You run plays. Risks, each and every one of them. I’ve personally seen you call an End Around. More than once. Risky. But sometimes taking a risk is worth it. Cam’s worth it.”

He lifts his ball cap and runs his fingers through his hair, places the hat back on his head. Reaching over, he pats my knee, keeping his eyes focused on the picket fence separating our yard from Mrs. Humperdink’s.

“Long as you’re happy, that’s all I care about.”

Then he stands and goes inside, the screen door squeaking shut behind him.