Chapter 7

seven

. . .

Sloane

The week flies by, and by Friday night, there’s still no message from Asher. I guess it’s understandable, given that I basically told him I needed space, and in his way, I suppose he’s respecting that. But the silence leaves me unsettled, my thoughts circling back to him more than I’d like to admit.

Finally, I give in to Joe’s request for a phone call to discuss the breakup. From my perspective, there’s not much to discuss. He cheated. I’m moving on. I feel a little bad that Asher “out-alpha’d” him on the phone call last week, but I don’t owe Joe anything. This call is damage control—an attempt to stop him from calling me again.

Sitting alone in my apartment, with Jacklyn gone on a date with Brian, I dial Joe’s number. The clock ticks louder than usual as the phone rings. My stomach twists, even though I know exactly what I’m going to say.

He picks up on the second ring. “Sloane,” he says, his voice smooth, almost relieved. “Thanks for calling. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

Okay. At least he’s not psycho. Yet.

“Hi, Joe,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. “You said you wanted to discuss the breakup. So...here I am.”

There’s a pause, and I can practically hear him gathering his thoughts, searching for the angle to take. “I just think this whole thing has been blown out of proportion. I mean, yes, I made a mistake, but?—”

I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. “You cheated, Joe. That’s not just a mistake. It’s a choice. And it’s one I can’t move past. It’s better if we just cut the cord.”

He exhales heavily. “I was drunk, Sloane. I wasn’t thinking clearly. You know I would never hurt you on purpose.”

I close my eyes, gripping the phone tighter. “Being drunk doesn’t erase the fact that you hurt me. And it doesn’t make it okay.”

Another pause, heavier this time, charged with tension. Then, his voice takes on an edge. “So, who is he?”

My stomach clenches. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on. You’ve obviously moved on already,” he accuses, his tone dripping with smugness. “That phone call? That was low.”

My stomach churns, but I stand firm. “It’s none of your business.”

“Who is he?”

“What part of ‘none of your business’ don’t you understand?” I snap, my voice steady despite the flare of anger rising in my chest. “This isn’t about anyone else, Joe. This is about you and what you did. Don’t try to make this about something it’s not.”

He snorts. “Right. You’ve just magically decided you’re over me? After everything we had? I guess I didn’t mean as much to you as you always said, huh?”

“Don’t do that,” I say, the words rushing out before I can stop them. “Don’t act like this is my fault. Don’t act like I’m the one who ended this. You’re the one who cheated, Joe.”

“You didn’t even want to stay with me this summer.”

“Because I was doing an amazing internship! Every couple has ups and downs. But you’re the one who made it clear that what we had didn’t mean enough to you. This is on you.”

The silence stretches on this time, and for a moment, I think he might hang up. Instead, he exhales sharply. “Sloane. You’re acting like what we had meant nothing.”

“No, Joe,” I say, my voice calm but firm. “I’m saying it meant everything to me. But you made your choice. And now I’m making mine.”

This time, the silence feels final.

“Fine,” he says at last, his voice colder than before. “I hope whoever’s next is worth it.”

I don’t respond. I just hang up.

As the call ends, I stare at the phone in my hand. The quiet of the apartment rushes back in, but relief doesn’t come. Instead, I feel…hollow.

But then, as I glance out the window, something else stirs—a flicker of resolve. I deserve better than this. I deserve better than him.

I just need to remind myself of that. Over and over, if I have to.

Wrapping a blanket around myself, I curl into the corner of the couch. Jacklyn’s on her date, probably laughing at one of Brian’s bad jokes, and here I am—stuck in my own head, replaying the conversation like a bad movie.

My gaze drifts to my phone, lying there silently, taunting me. I chew on my lip, debating.

I told Asher I needed space, and he’s respected that. Maybe too much space, a small voice in the back of my mind whispers.

Before I can stop myself, I reach for the phone and type out a message.

Me: Hey, you busy tonight?

I stare at the words for longer than I’d like to admit, my thumb hovering over the send button. It’s a bad idea. Or maybe it’s not. I hit send before I can overthink it further.

The reply comes faster than I expect.

Asher: I am. I’m sitting by my phone waiting for this girl I’m giving space to text me. What’s up?

I smile despite myself, the tightness in my chest easing slightly.

Me: Just needed a distraction. You free for that?

There’s a pause before another message pops up.

Asher: Distractions are my specialty. Be ready in an hour.

My pulse quickens. I debate responding with something clever, but instead, I just type:

Me: See you then.

I set the phone down and head to my room, heart pounding. Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, but right now, it feels like the kind of weakness I don’t want to fight.