Page 87 of Fragile Hearts

Chuckling, I press a kiss to her temple. “Nope, I can totally see the future, babe, and I definitely see you and me, old and gray, grandkids running around, the whole works.”

“Oh my god,” Sloane says, finally laughing. “Grandkids?”

Shrugging, I say, “Well, kids first, obviously.”

She shakes her head, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Obviously.”

We spend the next hour or so having some dinner and a few drinks and not talking anymore about what happened or Sloane’s mom or what we’re going to do about it all. Drew texts me to let me know there were two laptops that were pawned, but he only recognized mine, and when I ask him to hang onto both, he lets me know he will.

“You wanna head home?” I ask when we’ve finished.

“Do you really think it’s safe to sleep there?”

“I do,” I tell her. “The door is fixed, babe, and we can set the alarm tonight, and I’ll be with you,” I add, as Mochi lets out a bark. “Yes, and you too, little guard dog,” I say, laughing. “He doesn’t like to be excluded, huh?”

Sloane smiles, bending to pick Mochi up. “That’s because you spoil him.”

“Oh, I spoil him?” I tease, slinging my arm around her shoulder as we make our way out of the restaurant and start to walk back home.

“Yes,” she says, smiling up at me.

Grinning, I close the distance, kissing her gently, laughing when Mochi uses the opportunity to lick my cheek. Sloane laughs, putting him down now, and just as we start walking again, we hear someone calling Sloane’s name.

“Sloanie!”

Sloane stops, her eyes darting around, her smile gone.

“Sloanie!”

“Fuck,” she breathes out, spinning around, her eyes widening.

I turn to see a woman who looks exactly like the description the police gave us. A woman who looks like an older, messier version of Sloane. A woman who looks exactly like her mom.

“Sloanie!” she calls again, waving her arm this time as she stumbles toward us. She’s clearly on something, and I feel Sloane tense beside me as Mochi lets out a low growl, baring his teeth in a way that could almost be cute if I wasn’t so fucking angry right now.

When her mom reaches us, I move, shielding my body in front of Sloane’s. Her mom seems oblivious, a sloppy smile on her face as she throws her arms wide and again says, “Sloanie!”

It’s then that I notice the headphones around her neck.

The headphones that are undeniably mine. My heart sinks at the realization that Sloane was right. It was her mom who broke into our house and stole our stuff, stole from her own fucking daughter.

And it’s her mom who is standing in front of us now, not giving a single shit about the fact she did that. Anger courses through my veins, my heart pounding in my chest as I try to wrap my head around the fact that her own mother could do this to her.

“What do you want?” I snap, as Mochi continues to growl at our feet.

Sloane’s mom looks at me, her eyes hooded, her pupils blown and unable to focus. “To say hello to my daughter,” she says, an indignant tone in her voice. “What do you want?”

Behind me, Sloane grabs the back of my T-shirt, tugging on it, almost like a silent plea for me not to react. “I want you to leave Sloane alone,” I snap.

Her mom scoffs, half rolling her eyes as she turns her attention back to her daughter. “Come on, Sloanie, it’s been ages. I just want to spend time with you.”

Sloane doesn’t say anything, and when I risk a glance back at her, I can see her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her eyes filled with tears. It breaks my fucking heart to see her like this, to know this woman, who was supposed to unconditionally love and care for her, could do this to her.

Turning back to her mom, I say, “Sloane made it clear to you last week that she doesn’t want to see you.”

“Am I talking to you?” her mom says, her gaze a little more focused now. “Who the fuck are you to speak to me like that anyway? I’m her mother, I?—”

“You are nothing to me!” Sloane suddenly yells, stepping out from behind me to confront her mom. Her mom takes a step back, shock on her face at Sloane’s sudden outburst.

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