Page 4 of Perfectly Wedded

“This isn’t about me,” I say. “You’ve worked your butt off since the accident to go back to coaching. Tonight is all aboutyou.”

Sloan grins. “Well, right now, this girl needs food, and that buffet is calling my name.”

“Lead the way, and I’ll make sure no one cuts in line. Perks of having your own personal bodyguard.”

“Oh, by the way, I got a call from my doctor’s office before I came downstairs,” she says as we move along the buffet. “They have a new medicine for me, and they want me to start on it when I return from Vegas.”

“That’s great, Sloan,” I say, then notice the hesitation on her face. “Why don’t you look happy about this?”

“Apparently, the first experimental treatment only has a temporary effect. The doctor said I’ll need to be on this new drug for a year or two, to let my brain heal. Unfortunately, my insurance doesn’t cover it. It’s too new of a drug, and the pills are outrageously expensive.” She pauses, then looks away. “So I told them no.”

I shake my head. “That’s unacceptable, Sloan. Youhaveto get these drugs.”

She shrugs. “I can’t. They said they would keep petitioning my insurance to cover the drug. So maybe sometime in the future it will get approved, but until then... I wait.” She moves ahead in line, like this conversation is over.

“No, you can’t wait on something as important as your health. If you need to be on it for two years, you should start now.”

“Vale,” she says, stopping and turning toward me. “I can’t even afford it for a month, much less two years.”

I wanted tonight to feel like a celebration, and now the mood has been dampened by one phone call. My mind shuffles through doctors I know, people who could pull strings, but I come up empty.

“Maybe another option will appear,” I say as we find a table in the corner.

A tiny crease forms between her brows. “Do you have a fairy godmother I could borrow? Because the doctor said if I don’t start on this soon, the chances of this relapse continuing long-term increase dramatically.”

A long-term relapse would be a devastating blow. When my brother and I first rented rooms at their place, she spent half the day in bed because of her injury. Then the depression hit. The last thing I want is her falling back into that black hole.

“This new drug is the answer,” I say. “There’s no other choice.”

“I know, but my coaching salary will never cover it. I’ll have to quit my job and find a new one.” She sets down her fork, like she’s suddenly lost her appetite. “I’m not like you, Vale. I don’t move for a job opportunity. Sully’s Beach, South Carolina is my home.”

Home.I’ve never known what that is since I’ve spent my whole career moving around for hockey. All my life, I’ve wanted one thing—to play in the NHL. And it’s within reach now, closer than ever. But the thought of moving away from Sully’s Beach and leaving Sloan behind? I’m not ready for it.

“The last thing I want is for this news to ruin your evening,” I say. “We’ll figure it out, even if it means I pay for the medicine.”

She scoffs. “I wouldn’t let you do that for me. I could never pay you back.”

“Consider it a loan from a friend.”

She frowns. “That’s the type of thing that ruins friendships. And I won’t sacrifice our friendship for money.” She gives me a pointed look, her eyes locking with mine, and for a second, I can’t look away.

“Sloan, if I make it to the NHL, you wouldn’t need to pay me back.”

“It was one thing to let the team do their fundraiser for me, but it’s another to borrow from you personally. Even if you make the NHL—which you will—I’d be eaten alive with guilt.”

I put down my fork and look at her. “It’s better than you getting another job. You love being a college skating coach more than anything.”

She shrugs and her strap slips a little. “I do. But I’ll be okay, no matter what happens.”

I reach out to adjust the strap of her gown, my fingers brushing against her bare skin for just a second. “Okay is not good enough.” Her eyes flick to mine, and for a beat, the world narrows to just us. Those eyes look like trouble—time to back off. Sloan is my friend.Onlymy friend.

I drop my gaze as she picks at her food. “The only way I could get a new insurance plan is if I changed jobs or married, and neither of those things are going to happen—unless you know any princes I could marry?” Her eyes flick over my shoulder and she suddenly goes rigid. Then she slides off her barstool to cower behind me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, turning to face her. As I spin around, my knees brush against hers, sending a jolt through me.

“Anthony just walked into the room with his new girlfriend,” she whispers.

I turn and glance over my shoulder. A man with a sharp-cut jaw and bleached-blond hair strides across the floor, holding the hand of a woman who looks at least a decade younger. As he moves through the room, he greets everyone, like he’s the unofficial mayor of Vegas. Then his eyes scan the room and stop on us.

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