With so many different things happening at once, it felt as though the next few weeks flew by.

After spilling the beans to June about wanting to step away from Wilma's, Sloane had thrown herself into figuring out a plan forward. It was one thing to take the first step after having shouldered the weight and responsibilities of the store for so long—and I was so immensely proud of her for doing it—but it was something else entirely to keep taking the steps required to get herself to where she wanted to be.

But that's what she did. As if, now that she'd let herself think about returning to the career she once loved, there was no other way forward.

She spent countless nights brainstorming with June after closing the store, talking about who they needed to hire, what the future of the store looked like, and an overall timeline and plan for how to make their vision a reality. Changes were being made—albeit, slowly—and each time I saw her, she was more at ease. No longer bogged down with the stress she'd been carrying for over a year.

Some days I asked her questions, some I didn't, because while I was curious to know how things were coming along, I also didn't want to push. Sloane was doing things her way. She was smart, independent, and more than capable; I was just someone on the sidelines cheering her on.

All while making arrangements for my return to Boston.

Time was ticking, and I was doing as much as I could remotely in terms of getting everything in place for Bowen. Finding him a good school that was relatively close to my apartment, hiring a painter to execute on the mural he wanted in his new room, buying new furniture for him, and most importantly, going through several qualified applicants who could possibly act as his caretaker when hockey demanded my time. A few of my teammates had recommended an agency they'd used in the past to find reliable childcare, for which I was grateful. All of it was so foreign. Something I couldn't fathom myself doing just months ago, but with their advice, as well as my parents helping out with interviews, it was going a lot smoother than expected.

Therapy was also helping. Both for me and for Bowen. It gave me a safe space to talk about my grief surrounding Liam and Thea, allowed me insight into Bowen's thoughts about leaving the only home he'd ever known, and helped temper some (not all) of my anxieties around returning to Boston with him in tow.

All that to say, I was busy. Sloane was busy. But we found ourselves spending nearly every moment of free time together. We managed a few nights out while my parents watched over Bowen—either double dating with Mara and Sam or some much needed alone time—but otherwise, she was staying over at mine most nights. The two of us being creative, and quiet, in the ways we fooled around long after nightfall before falling asleep with our limbs tangled together.

It was honestly one of the highlights of my days; the comfort I felt as her breathing leveled out and I pulled her closer to me. The ease at which I drifted off knowing she was right there next to me.

What wasn't fun, however, was being torn from slumber in the wee hours of the morning when her cell started ringing one morning about a week before I was scheduled to leave town.

Sloane squirmed away from me and climbed out of bed as I blinked my eyes open, the sound cutting off as she ruffled through her bag and found her phone, taking the call.

"Hello?" she whispered into the phone, her voice groggy.

I couldn't conceal the yawn that left my lips as I sat up and turned towards her. Wearing nothing but an old t-shirt of mine, with her hair loosely falling past her shoulders in a mussed up way, she looked like every man's dream. The only problem was the way she worried her bottom lip as she listened to the person on the other end talk, and after a few moments, her shoulders sagged, and she ran her free hand through her hair.

"Don't worry about it, June," she spoke. "I can handle the store today. I'll go in now and try to get a decent amount of the simpler treats made before we open. You just rest and get better."

After a quick reassurance, Sloane hung up and plopped down on the side of the bed with a heavy sigh.

"Everything okay?" I asked, reaching out so that my palm rested on her low back, moving in slow, comforting circles.

"June woke up this morning with a stomach bug. She thinks it's because of the Chinese food she ordered last night."

Saying morning was pushing it, because with a quick glance at her phone screen that was still lit up in her hand, it wasn't even five yet.

"Shit."

A tired laugh escaped her. "That about sums it up," she said. "I've got to head in now and pull a double shift today. Bake as much as I can to hopefully last into the lunch rush. Handle the back and the front of the store."

I inched closer to her and pulled her into my chest, my lips against her neck as I said, "You really need to hire another person."

"I know, I know. I'm working on it," she mumbled, turning her head slightly to graze her lips against mine. "But neither of us have been sick since I started working there last year, so I kind of hoped we'd just get lucky and never have to worry about something like this."

"Well, do you need me to come in around lunch to help out? I could sit Bowen down at a table with some food for a bit and try to run the register while you work the back during the rush."

"That's really sweet of you to offer—" Her lips twitched upwards at the edges. "—but I can manage."

"Do you need me to do anything else then? Run any errands while you're at work?"

"Actually," she started slowly, "would you be able to bring my dad breakfast this morning? I was supposed to go over there around seven. It's totally okay if you say no though—"

"Sloane." I squeezed her hip gently. "I can definitely do that. Don't worry about a thing. Your dad will have the breakfast of champions this morning. Plus, maybe it'll even earn me some brownie points with him."

She laughed, running her hand through my hair. "He already likes you well enough."

"Yeah?" I asked, lifting a brow as I cupped her cheek. "And what about you?"

"I think you're alright."

"Just alright?" I whispered, brushing my lips teasingly against hers.

A soft moan filled the space between us when I traced my tongue slowly along her bottom lip before diving in for a real kiss. Making sure she'd have this scene playing on repeat in her head all day, propelling her through the hours until we were alone again.

When I pulled back, I noticed there was a light shining in her eyes as she grinned. "Maybe you're a little bit better than just alright."

"Now that's what I like to hear," I said charmingly, pecking her lips once more before pulling back for good. "But you don't want to be late. And don't worry, like I said, I've got things with your dad covered."

She squeezed my hand. "Thank you."

I smiled. "No problem."

***

"Go fish!" Bowen exclaimed when Charles Montgomery asked him if he had any eights.

Sloane's dad chuckled at Bowen's enthusiasm and picked up a card, which just so happened to be the two his opponent needed to win this round.

When Bowen gleefully accepted the card and placed his set down in front of him, he threw his hands up and said, "I won!" Though that was followed closely by, "Do you wanna play again?"

That was when I cut in from where I stood in Charles' kitchen, just finishing up with washing the dishes. "I think Mr. Montgomery probably has other plans for the day, Bowen. Not all of them centered around card games," I mused, holding in a chuckle as he pouted. After all, we'd arrived a few minutes after seven with the ingredients to take a world-class breakfast in tow. Bacon, pancake mix, eggs, fruit. It was a feast that I'd been proud of, and after eating, the three of us plus Scout had gone on a slow walk around the block. Once we returned, I had tackled the cleanup while Bowen had roped Charles into a total of five games of go fish. "Why don't you go grab Scout and get situated in the car?" I continued. "I'll be out in a few minutes, and when we get home, I'll take you out for some biking practice without training wheels."

The prospect of riding without training wheels had been something he'd been vocal about the last couple of days after seeing a kid his age riding through town without them, so he immediately perked up and jumped from his chair.

"Sure thing," he said before grinning at Mr. Montgomery. "Thanks for having us over. I had fun."

There was no time for a response, however, because he quickly raced out the back door in search of his favorite canine.

"You seem to be doing a good job with him," Charles commented.

Drying my hands off on the dish towel, I leaned against the countertop and chuckled. "Would you believe me if I said it's ninety-five percent luck at this point?"

"I would," he started, "if I didn't know about everything he'd endured this summer. The fact that he's so carefree and open after losing not just one parent, but both, is a testimony that he must feel that you've filled that spot for him. That you love him that much. And I think that shows it's a whole lot more than just luck."

"Thank you," I replied in a low voice, an overwhelming amount of gratitude flowing through me. "That means a lot."

"It's well deserved," he said. "As is a thank you for coming over. Sloane called this morning on her way to work to tell me she was pulling a double to cover for June, but you didn't need to come in her place. I'm more than capable of handling things on my own."

I lifted a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "I didn't mind. Plus, I know her well enough that despite working more than twelve hours, she would've checked up on you over dinner if I had said no. I didn't want her to have to do that with the stress of the store on her shoulders."

"She could certainly use the help," he agreed. "But my little girl is stubborn like that."

I cracked a smile. "I won't argue with that. I just hope that once she gets a handle on hiring a few more staff that she'll be able to finally step away."

In the seconds that followed, I knew almost immediately that something was wrong as a heavy silence filled the room. I watched as he processed my words with a creased forehead, his gaze clouding in confusion, and I felt a weight grow in the pit of my stomach as I gulped with dread.

"You didn't know."

He shook his head slowly. "I mean, she told me about the real estate man who'd been hounding her about selling the place and I managed to contact him to make it clear we weren't interested no matter the cost. But her wanting to leave Wilma's?" He rubbed at his chin while a frown appeared on his lips. "No. She never said anything."

Fuck.

Suddenly I was hyper focused on two things. One; I had let this supposed secret slip to Sloane's dad. Sure, I had thought it was common knowledge—at least to those she trusted, because hell, she'd even talked about it briefly while we'd been at my parent's place for dinner the previous weekend—but it still didn't excuse the breach of trust now that he knew. She could've been keeping her plan from him for a multitude of reasons—being nervous about how he'd react, thinking he'd be upset, or...

Two; I'd been the one she'd been feeding lies to. Had she been trying to appease me, telling me what she thought I wanted to hear because she knew I was leaving? Was she just stringing me along until I left on Saturday?

As quickly as those thoughts popped into my head, I squashed them. That was my own insecurities talking. I knew her; there had to be a reasonable explanation. There had to be.

"I should've figured something like this was coming though," Charles commented when I failed to respond, cutting off my internal tailspin. "Especially given how close you two have gotten over the summer."

"Oh, no. Well, yes, but..." I felt flustered momentarily, not knowing what to say in response to his pointed words. I then heaved a sigh and dug my hands into my pockets as I said, "This isn't about me. Her wanting to leave the store. I'd be elated if it was—if she wanted to come to Boston—but the truth is she just misses teaching. And whether she chooses to pursue that here in Neptune Bay, in Boston, or somewhere else isn't up to me. It's up to her, and I just want her to be happy."

"That may be true, boy, but happiness isn't always about a career," he spoke wisely. His facial expressions were mostly locked down, not giving me much to work with, but the one thing I did notice was that he appeared content overall. And that, at the very least, allowed me to breathe slightly easier as I listened. "Nor is it about a place or the things someone owns. Sometimes—" He shot me a knowing look. "—it's about braving life alongside a person, if it's the right person, that brings you the most joy."

finally! words finally started flowing for this chapter as we transition into the third act of this story and, with a few days off work, managed to crank this out. Maybe it had something to do with me listening to RED (taylor's version) on repeat? Who knows.

I hope you all enjoyed it, and remember to vote and leave your comments below!