Chapter 8
Bo
“Happy birthday, Sloane!” two chirpy female voices sing out.
Fuck me!
I roll off the far side of the bed and squeeze under it just as Sloane’s bedroom door swings wide.
I’d heard the sound of voices downstairs, and I should’ve gotten up and dressed and out of here, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave Sloane’s bed. Not when holding her felt so right.
Not when leaving her meant saying goodbye.
I watch two pairs of feet enter the room and stand inside the door. Then the voices break into a round of “Happy Birthday.”
It’s sweet, but I fear Sloane’s too freaked out about my presence under the bed to appreciate it. I detect the scent of something sweet and chocolatey and the wax of a burning candle.
“Oh my God, you guys. Thank you.”
I love the rust in Sloane’s voice. It’s
