Page 109 of A River of Crows

“Uh oh.” He lowered his voice. “Should I pick you up some wine?

“No.” Sloan rubbed at her still-pounding forehead. “Never again.”

Sloan rearranged ornaments on the Christmas tree while she waited for Dylan. As stupid as it was, she couldn’t leave the tree like this.

She had just replaced the burned-out bulb when Dylan knocked at the door. He was still dressed for the deposition in the same shirt and tie he’d worn on their first date, tucked in this time, and accompanied by a jacket. He was carrying an overnight bag.

“Wow, look at you.” Sloan pulled him into the house and into her arms.

Dylan sniffed her hair. “You smell . . .”

“Horrible.” Sloan pulled away. “Like sweat and gin.”

“I was going to say pears,” he said. “Some sort of pear-scented shampoo, but yeah, I detect the gin too. Do I even want to know?”

“Long story.”

“Well, we’ve got all night.” Dylan held up the bag. “I mean, since Caroline’s gone, I thought I’d stay here. But only if it’s okay with you.”

“Of course.” A fluttery sensation filled Sloan’s chest. “That’s more than okay. I don’t want to be alone.”

Dylan leaned in for a kiss but stopped short, looking across the living room. “Sloan? What’s with the tree?”

“Another long story.” She ran a hand through her sweat-soaked hair. “Tell you what, if you don’t mind making a pot of coffee, I’ll get a shower, and then we’ll talk.”

Sloan took a quick shower and put on some yoga pants and a t-shirt. She wasn’t sure what Dylan had in mind by staying the night, but regular pajamas seemed too intimate. She didn’t bother with makeup but couldn’t bring herself to go back out without at least blow-drying her pear-scented hair.

Dylan was sitting beside the tree when she came back in. He took a big breath. “Now you really smell like pears.”

Sloan glanced back at the tree, noticing a gift underneath it, wrapped in newspaper with a bow made of a coffee label. “What in the world?”

Dylan picked up the present and shook it. “Catch.” He tossed it to her. “Merry Christmas, I guess.”

“Yeah, about this,” she waved a hand at the tree. “Ridge came over. We got drunk and decided to decorate.” She held up the present. “But how did you know to bring a gift?”

“I’ve had it a few days,” Dylan said. “I didn’t plan on wrapping it, but when I saw the tree, I improvised.” He stood. “Open it.”

Sloan tore into the paper, revealing two sketchbooks and a set of professional-colored pencils. A sudden thickness in her throat left her speechless.

“You said you used to draw,” Dylan said. “I wondered if you might like to try again. Thought it might be like music for me. That it could help you heal.”

Sloan swiped at tears falling on her cheek.

Dylan’s eyes dulled. “Did I mess up?”

“It’s perfect.” Sloan’s voice cracked. “I’m a crappy girlfriend, is all. I’ve never even heard you play guitar. I forgot about the depositions. I haven’t even asked how the case is coming along.”

Dylan swept her into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay. You’ve got a lot going on. I haven’t wanted to overwhelm you with more.”

“I’m so sorry. Can you fill me in tonight?”

He wiped a strand of still-warm hair out of her face. “You bet. And hey, I brought my guitar with me today to help me relax during my breaks. So, it’s still in the jeep if you want to listen later. But first, tell me what happened today.”

Sloan motioned to the couch behind him. “We better sit. And a cup or two of that coffee wouldn’t hurt.”

Half an hour later, they had filled each other in on everything. Despite the intensity of the conversation, Sloan felt lighter just for having shared with Dylan.

She stared at the tree across the living room. “Will you help take it down?”

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