Page 130 of Restore Me

Except this doesn’t feel like being saved. This feels like being punished for daring to live my life outside of her terms. This feels like yet another entry on her never-ending list of my failures and shortcomings.

And it hurts to watch her take so much joy in penciling it in.

“Well, I’d better go.” She pats me on the shoulder. “You should get back and start packing your things. I’ll send you the details for your new room as soon as I have them.”

I manage to nod and watch her glide down the sidewalk happily. Like ruining my life has just made her entire day. Once she’s disappeared into a group of students and parents carrying boxes, I turn and start walking in the other direction with no particular destination in mind. Somehow, I wind up on the steps of the library watching a campus tour for incoming freshmen head into the lecture hall across the street.

“Oh damn, was that the midday tour?”

Startled, I turn to find a tall guy with smooth, brown skin, dark brows, and a strong jawline towering over me. His eyes—the most arresting shade of amber—dance with humor as he fixes me with a mind-melting smile.

“Yes,” I say when I finally manage to find my words. “They just left though. I’m sure you could catch up to them if you run.”

Instead, he plops down on the step right beside me, and his arm brushes mine ever so slightly. Then he’s looking at me again, smiling as if leaving this step is the furthest thing from his mind.

“Nah, I think I’ll just catch the next one. Is it okay if I sit with you?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

He shrugs. “You look like you’re having a bad day.”

“Something like that. I don’t want to talk about it with a stranger though.”

Both of his dark brows rise and for an instant, he looks like he’s second-guessing his decision to abandon the tour, but then he smiles again and extends his hand to me. “I’m Eric Kent.”

I stare at his proffered hand hanging almost awkwardly from his arm while he waits for me to do or say something. After a beat, I place my hand in his, allowing his long fingers to wrap around mine. His skin is warm, and he clears his throat gently when another second goes by without me telling him my name.

“Sorry,” I say finally. “I’m Sloane Carson.”

“Nice to meet you, Sloane.” More of his perfect teeth come into view as his smile grows wider. “We officially aren’t strangers anymore.”

.

41

Sloane

Now

Day One without Dom started with me watching the sunrise through swollen, puffy eyes I hadn’t closed for more than a minute all night. I dragged myself out of bed at five in the morning and sat in the bathtub for long hours, soaking in all of my regrets and wishing I gave Dom a real chance to explain before I asked him to leave.

I was overwhelmed by what little information he gave me, but all the questions I was too scared to hear the answers to in the moment kept me up last night. I stared at the ceiling and tried to picture the details of the night he remembers so vividly, that have evaded me for years.

Me walking into a party and seeing him. A tall, impossibly handsome stranger with smooth, bronze skin and trouble in his eyes. I wondered if the connection was immediate. If I was drawn to him the second his midnight stare locked on me and whether I gave in to the urge to be close to him as soon as I felt it.

And then I obsessed over all the different ways we could have ended up here.

But no matter how many times I turned it over in my head—the list, the party, the note Dom says he left that I never saw—I just couldn’t put it all together. Once I realized I wouldn’t be able to do so without the help of the one person who would probably rather lick an un-sanded piece of plywood than talk to me, I gave up trying and decided to distract myself with work.

I’ve been sitting at the island choosing materials and adjusting project budgets for over three hours when my phone starts vibrating. I grab for it instantly, hoping stupidly that it’s Dom, and see my dad’s name flashing on the screen. I consider not answering, but I haven’t talked to him all week, so I paste a smile on my face and accept the call.

“Hey, Daddy.”

“Bean!” He bellows. “I’m so glad I caught you. How would you like to join us for brunch at the club? Your mother says you usually have plans with Mal and Annette, but I wanted to extend the invitation anyway. We haven’t shared a meal since…”

Since your wife told me I needed to get over the death of my husband and find a rich man to marry.

“Thanks for the invite, Daddy. I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it though I’ve got to—”

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