Xavier’s POV
By the time I reach Sloane’s apartment, I've rehearsed a dozen ways to apologize for my mother’s behavior, and every one falls short.
I knock, shifting in my jacket, which still carries the faint scent of Sloane from the last time she wore it. When the door opens, my eyes are closed, basking in her scent, and for one suspended second I let myself feel relieved she is really here.
When I open them, every apology I’ve prepared disappears from my mind, leaving only the sharp, guilty awareness of how much I have missed her.
Radiant, Sloane stands before me in a red sweater jacket, her dark hair sweeping past her collarbones, hiding most of her bruising. She's comfortable in her own space, away from the suffocating formality of the pack house, and the sight of her makes somethi
