**Part 2**
Back in my room, the pain medication made the edges of everything softer, but it didn’t touch the ache sitting beneath my ribs.
I didn’t sleep.
I kept thinking about Sloan.
Eight years earlier, David had told me she’d cut us both off.
I had asked him more than once whether I should call Sloan myself.
Every time, he’d said the same thing.
“She needs space from both of us.”
I had believed him because I was terrified that if I called, Sloan would confirm it.
That fear had cost me eight years.
Two hours later, David came into my room.
I was sitting upright, one hand pressed lightly over my abdomen.
He closed the door.
“We need to talk.”
“I agree.”
Relief flashed across his face too quickly.
Then I added, “After I talk to Sloan.”
His jaw tightened.
“Mila, she just had a baby.”
“And I’ve just had surgery. Somehow, you still found time to lie to both of us.”
“You’re making this bigger than it needs to be.”
I stared at him.
“You’ve been coming here every day?”
“Sloan was admitted last week. Her doctor wanted her monitored until Spencer arrived.”
“And while I was recovering one wing away, you told me work was keeping you away.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I couldn’t tell you Sloan was here.”
His hand dropped.
For the first time, David looked afraid.
“Mila, what happened with Sloan was complicated.”
“Then I’ll let Sloan explain her part.”
“She was 17. She was angry.”
“At who?”
His mouth tightened.
That told me enough.
“Go, David. Leave.”
David stood there another second.
Then he left.
Sloan came the next afternoon.
This time, she arrived in a wheelchair.
A nurse pushed her in. When Sloan saw me looking at the empty space in her arms, she said, “My mom has him.”
“Your mom?”
“Yes. She’s keeping him company in my room.”
I nodded.
Of course.
I hadn’t spoken to Amanda since Sloan left.
The nurse locked Sloan’s wheelchair beside my bed and stepped out.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Sloan rubbed the side of her thumb.
I noticed immediately.
“You still do that.”
She looked down.
“Do what?”
“Rub your thumb when you’re nervous. You used to do it before math tests.”
Her mouth trembled.
“You remember that?”
“I remember a lot, honey.”
That nearly broke both of us.
Sloan looked toward the window.
“The baby’s name is Spencer.”
I smiled despite everything.
“Spencer.”
“Yeah.”
“He’s beautiful, Sloan.”
“Thank you, Mila…”
Then the silence returned.
I took a breath.
“Your dad told me you didn’t want me contacting you.”
Sloan looked straight at me.
“What?”
“He said you thought I was trying to replace Amanda.”
Her face changed.
“I never said that.”
My throat tightened.
“He told me you wanted a clean break from both of us.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I wanted a break from him, Mila!”
“Why?”
Sloan looked down at her hands.
“Because Dad wouldn’t let me breathe.”
I waited.
“When I was 16, Dad decided I should live with you two full time. He said Mom wasn’t giving me enough structure.”
I frowned. “He told me you wanted to move in.”
Sloan gave a bitter laugh. “No. He wanted me to.”
“What happened the night you left?”
“He took my phone because I wouldn’t give him the password. When I fought him on it, he told me if I wanted to live the way Mom raised me, I could go live with her.”
I stared at her.
“He told me the fight was about curfew.”
“It wasn’t.”
“He took my phone.”
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
Her voice cracked.
“So I left.”
I reached for her hand.
Sloan let me take it.
“I asked him about you afterward,” I said. “For months.”
She looked at me.
“I asked about you too.”
The words hurt more than I expected.
“What did he tell you?”
“That you agreed I needed distance.”
I felt tears spill before I could stop them.
“Sloan, I never agreed to that.”
“I know that now.”
“I thought you hated me.”
“I thought you chose him over me, Mila.”
Then Sloan squeezed my hand.
“I should’ve called you.”
I shook my head.
“So should I.”
“I was 17.”
“And I was the adult, my darling. I should have known better.”
We both started crying.
It was just eight years of grief sitting between us.
“I adored you,” I said.
Sloan covered her mouth.
“I loved you too.”
“Past tense?”
She gave a shaky laugh through her tears.
“No.”
I squeezed her hand again.
“No more letting David carry messages between us.”
“Agreed.”
“If you’re angry with me, tell me.”
“You too.”
“If you need space, tell me yourself.”
Sloan nodded.
Then she looked toward the door.
“Dad’s still doing it, you know.”
My stomach tightened.
“Doing what?”
“Deciding what everyone can handle.”
And just like that, I knew the problem hadn’t ended eight years ago.
