ROANThe room Sloane leads me to is small, bare, private in the way that suggests she chose it for exactly that reason and nothing else. No windows. One table. A door that shuts behind Marcus when she tells him, without looking at him, that this part doesn’t require an audience.Then it’s just the two of us, closer than we’ve been in two years, and I don’t know where to put my hands.“Sit,” she says, nodding at the table’s edge. “Shirt off. I need to see where it’s centered.”I do as she says, because there isn’t a version of tonight where I don’t do exactly what she tells me to, and because some small, useless part of me is grateful for any excuse to be looked at by her again, even like this. Even clinical. Even cold.Her hands, when they finally touch my chest, are steady in a way that undoes something in me I don’t have a name for.She doesn’t smell the way I remember either. Underneath it, faint, she still carries something warm and familiar that used to mean home to every instinc
Last Updated : 2026-07-10 Read more