Sloane’s POV
When I enter my door, the feeling of dread overwhelms me. And by the time I kick off my shoes, walking with my sock-clad feet, Zia rushes me to the table, eyeing a box of napkins.
And then the avalanche came.
It wasn't a slow build. It hit me all at once- the pointe shoes in the window, the faint scent of leather clinging to the air from the man with the wire-rimmed glasses, the lingering ghost of a slouched posture that looked just enough like my father’s to c***k open a door I’d spent years nailing shut.
The smell of books that is always associated with him.
And my mom.
My parents, Arthur and Gabby Hayes, were not ordinary everyday parents. They treated me like a princess. They weren't a memory I had to gloss over or polish to make sound better than it was. They had ge
