I called Sloan.

She picked up on the third ring. “Zane?”

“Sloan, it’s me. Don’t hang up.”

“What do you want, Jason?” And then she started to cry.

It was the kind of crying that didn’t sound like it was beginning. It was the kind that sounded like it was continuing. My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. My chest got tight and I had to clutch it with my free hand. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry, Sloan. You’re right. I shouldn’t be asking you to do more than you’re doing.”

“I hate this,” she sobbed. “I hate fighting with you.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” I said, a lump growing in my throat. “I just can’t handle hearing you won’t have kids with me. I already feel like I’m ruining your life…I just…I have to know we’re gonna be okay.”

I wanted to walk out of that bathroom and take the next flight to Minnesota. If I hadn’t been in the middle of a concert, I would have already been out the door, even if I got to see her for only an hour before I had to get back on a plane.

“You’re not ruining my life, Jason.” She sniffed. “I know what you want me to say to you. You want me to tell you that we can have everything. And you know what? Maybe we can’t. Maybe we just have to accept that our life isn’t conducive to certain things right now and be okay with that.”

How? How the fuck was I supposed to be okay with systematically taking everything from her?

I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to say what I’d been thinking for a while, the thing that had haunted me incessantly since the first time I noticed she wasn’t handling the road well. “Sloan…have you considered that maybe us being together isn’t the best thing for you?”

She went silent on the other end for a long moment. “Why would you say that to me?”

“You’re miserable.”

I heard her swallow in the silence. “Jason, I don’t want to hear you talking like that again. We’re not breaking up. How can you even suggest that?”

I put my forehead in my hand. “You want kids.”

“And we can have them. When we can offer them more stability.”

I shook my head. “When? Ten years from now?”

“I’ll only be thirty-six,” she said. “I won’t exactly be an old lady. You know, life doesn’t always give you what you want, Jason. Being in a relationship means compromise.”

I scoffed quietly. The only one compromising was her.

We went quiet. The audience began to chant my name. They were getting restless and I was going to have to go back.

Fuck it, let them wait.

“Why did you call me from Zane’s phone?” she asked.

“I broke mine,” I said, not volunteering the details.

She sighed. “Jason, I love you. I choose you. And I know you feel guilty because of the way things are and you don’t have to.”

I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see it. “I want you to have a life.”

“I have a life. With you.” She laughed a little. “Also, you should know that the number one reason I wouldn’t have kids with you right now is because we’re not married. Until you make an honest woman out of me, I’m not open to any negotiations.”

I could hear the smile in her voice. She was trying to cheer me up. Make light of this.

There was nothing funny about it.

I had the ring, but I wouldn’t ask her.

I didn’t want her to be like me, trapped in a long-term contract that she’d grow to regret.

Chapter 39

Sloan

? Ful Stop | Radiohead

The second I’d hung up with Jason, I’d darted around my room and packed my things to leave. I grabbed Tucker, said goodbye to Patricia, and had Paul drive me to the airport in Duluth so I could catch the next flight to Vegas. I didn’t tell Jason I was coming. He was so low, I wanted to surprise him. I’d told him good night when we hung up and he wasn’t expecting to hear from me until the morning.

The last five weeks had been torture. It was great seeing Kristen, and I loved cooking with Jason’s mom. I’d gotten sleep, I’d gotten healthy—and none of it compared to being with him. Not even a little.

It was going to take me at least another month to finish the piece, and I didn’t have another month in me without him. I’d already been debating coming back to the road early when we’d had our argument, and that was the deciding factor.

What he’d said scared me.

I knew this separation had been hard for him. That’s why I’d made it a point to always be happy when we talked, so he’d know his sacrifice wasn’t a waste. But now I thought maybe I should have let him see how awful it was without him. Honestly, I couldn’t even focus on what I was here to do. I spent most of my days trying to distract myself from the fact that I felt too in a funk to paint.

We were simply no good without each other. This separation had been the proof. We were both miserable. I had to go back. I wanted to fall asleep in his arms tonight and every night from now on.

Every step I took to getting back to him—getting off the plane, climbing into an Uber, walking into the hotel—made me feel elated, like I was coming home.