"Hello, Nancy. Is Shayla ready to see me?"

"Yes, her last patient just left, so you can go right on in."

I know I told myself I wouldn't involve Shayla in my and Sloane's business. But I need her help—more like suggestions is what I need.

For the last couple of weeks, I thought I was getting somewhere with Sloane. She listened and did everything I'd asked until a few days ago. Now, we're back to square one.

After bringing Sloane to the club, getting her to open her mind, having her experience feelings she never knew she had or ever felt, and having sex with her all night and then every night for the first week had me believing I finally got through to her that she was good enough for me.

Then, she started slipping, with each day getting worse. Now, she's back to being as stubborn as a fucking mule, letting her self-consciousness take over her mind. As well as what happened in the past.

I've told Sloane countless times that I'm over it, that it was in the past, that I'm satisfied with her apologies, and that I'd like to move on from it. I've also told her numerous times that I've forgiven her.

Still, she doesn't think she's good enough. And no matter what I say, she also still believes she's the reason behind her family's deaths. That if she had just let go of what she had done to me, they'd still be alive today.

So, today, I took the rest of the afternoon off, handing over my patients to my other surgeon so I could visit my sister and see what she suggested I do to help Sloane overcome what she couldn't get over.

The funny thing is, Shayla had no idea I'd made an appointment to see her. I instructed Nancy to make up a name, telling her I wanted it to be a surprise.

I tapped lightly on the door a couple of times and slowly opened it, and when I saw Shayla's back facing me, putting files into her filing cabinet, I shouted, "Boo!"

Shayla screamed and slammed the file cabinet drawer shut when she jumped, bumping into it. She spun on her heel with her hand covering her heart, looking freaked out when she looked at me. "Jesus, Aaron! Why in the hell did you scare me like that? You could've given me a heart attack!"

I laughed, finding humor in her widened, freaked-out eyes and the ghostly look on her face. "I'd say sorry. But I won't since I couldn't help myself," I told her, grinning like the devil I am.

"Why are you here, anyway? I'm working. Something you should be doing," she hissed, adjusting her skirt before sitting in the chair behind her desk. Flinging her hair behind her as she adjusted her shoulders, she added, "Or is it your day off?"

I sauntered over to her couch, laid on it, and then folded my hands on my abdomen as I kicked my foot over the other. "I took the day off to see you," I finally enlightened.

"Aaron, I'm busy. Couldn't you wait to see me until I finished work?"

I chuckled. "You don't have a busy day today. I'm your patient for the remainder of the day," I said, turning my head to face her. "I called Nancy the other day, verified your schedule, and told her not to schedule any patients this afternoon, that I'd be taking up your afternoon."

"Really," she hissed.

"Yes. Really."

"Why?"

Turning to face the ceiling, I looked up, saying, "Don't give yourself a big head over this, but I need some advice."

"Advice about your love life?" she asked, thrilled I came to her for what she thinks I did. "About Sloane?"

"It is about Sloane," I admitted, "but I didn't come to you for the reasons you think I'm here."

"Oh?" she said as if it were a question.

I sighed. I can't believe I'm about to talk to my younger sister about this.

I'd talk to my friends about this, but I don't think that would be wise. I know they'd do what they could to help me, but I don't want to upset Sloane if she found out I talked to them about my concerns with her. This is an area Shayla's experienced with whom Sloane should be talking to.

"What's this about?"

I know the rules once you're inside this room, but because this is me, and since I needed to be sure this doesn't get back to Mariah, my grandmother, or anyone else, I looked at my sister, asking, "Everything I tell you inside this room will be confidential, correct?"

"You're not a patient, Aaron. You're my brother."

I figured she'd say that.

So, because of that, I reminded her, "I made an appointment, which means I'm your patient right now."

She shook her head, mumbling, "I should've known it was you when I saw my schedule today."

I chuckled lowly. "Why's that?"

"Really Aaron? Craven Moorehead? I thought it was strange someone would name their child that. Now I know it was you fucking with me."

A laugh from the pit of my belly left my mouth. "Well, I am," I teased.

Her hand flew up, stopping me from saying more. "I don't want to know anything about your sex life," she panicked. "Anyway, since you want this to be a private conversation, yes, this will remain confidential."

"Thank you." I looked up at the ceiling, thinking about everything Sloane confessed to me, what I've seen and witnessed, and how she refuses to move on from the past like I want her to do. "As you know, I ran into Sloane."

"And did you give her a second chance like I said you should do?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Good. So, what's this about then?"

I sighed, feeling guilty for what I was about to tell my sister without Sloane's consent.

"Sloane has some things going on—major things, and I don't know what to do or how I should talk to her without upsetting her."

"Like what?" Shayla asked, walking toward me and sitting on the chair beside the couch, her notepad in hand.

"Are you writing this all down or something?"

"As with all my other patients, I'll be making notes of this conversation, and then I'll put them in a file. So what's happening with her that you needed to come to me?"

"She's battling depression," I quietly admitted, then added, "Badly," I emphasized. "She mentioned it started in high school after what she did and said to me. But it wasn't until after graduation that her depression worsened," I said, telling her the story Sloane told me and who had been the ones sending me the disgusting gifts.

"... She met a man who later became her husband. According to her, their marriage was rocky from the start. He thought by marrying her, she'd get over what she'd done to me and that her love for me would end. She felt the same as him, which was why she agreed to marry him. Apparently, that didn't work, and because she still couldn't get over me, they fought all the time. Then, a few years into their rocky marriage, she got pregnant. A couple years after that, she gave birth to another one. Two years ago, she lost her husband and two kids in a car accident—a head-on collision with Sloane being the lone survivor."

"Oh boy."

"Yeah, oh boy. The other driver had fallen asleep at the wheel. Now she believes it's her fault her family was killed and feels guilty she survived."

"Why? Was she the one driving?"

I shook my head. "No. She was the passenger. But she insists it's her fault, believing if her husband hadn't had to pick her up from the hospital, they'd still be here today."

Shayla hummed as she tried to figure out what I was trying to explain to her.

"Well, you and I know the accident wasn't her fault. What was she in the hospital for?"

Silence filled the room as I thought about how much to fill my sister in about what Sloane had done and had been doing throughout the years. But she's also a psychologist and has dealt with this issue with her patients numerous times. So, maybe I should tell her everything.

It's why I'm here, isn't it?

"Failed suicide attempt."

"Oh. Oh... well, it's still not Sloane's fault. It was an accident nobody could predict."

"That's what I told her. If it wasn't them, it would've been someone else, or it could've even happened if they were heading home from somewhere else."

"So, what I'm getting out of what you're trying to tell me is that suicide attempt wasn't her first time."

"No," I muttered. "Sloane admitted to harming herself for years and that she had seven failed attempts that landed her in the hospital."

"Is she seeing someone for this?"

I shook my head. "No. She was, but from what Sloane's told me, she hadn't seen anyone since returning to Chicago, which was like five months ago. I offered to give her your number, but she refused to take it. Say's she can't talk to you."

"How come?"

I finally looked at Shayla. "Because she still feels guilty for what she did to me and feels you hate her because of it." I shrugged. "I don't know. I tried, but she's being stubborn about it."

"She can talk to me anytime. I wouldn't judge her because of the past. You know that. This is my job. I'm here to help people, not make them feel worse than they already do."

"I know," I said, sighing, returning to look at the dull white ceiling. "Sloane's face is also badly scarred from the accident. Another reason she doesn't want to see you, or anyone else for that matter. She's gained some weight and has stretch marks on her belly caused by the pregnancies, so she has body image issues."

"How bad are her scars?"

Bad.

"They practically cover her entire face."

"Can you fix them?"

I nodded. "Yes, it can be done. But Sloane hasn't asked if I could do that for her."

"Would you?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Have you offered to?"

I shook my head. "No, not yet."

"How come?"

Because I want her to accept who she is, not who she once was. Once she learns to love herself again, then I'll offer to fix what she hates.

"I have my reasons."

"Aaron," Shayla scolded. "You're not trying to discipline her for what she did to you years ago, are you?"

I'm disciplining her, but not for the reasons you think I am.

"Fuck no. Even though for years I felt that if I ever ran into Sloane, I'd humiliate her as she'd done to me, once I saw her and saw the scars on her face, I couldn't do it. I won't do it. And I never will. All I've been doing since we reconciled our friendship is trying to get her to see that she's perfect in my eyes—which she is. She's fucking gorgeous, Shayla. But I can't get her to look past the scars on her face or why she has stretch marks. One minute, I have her believing she's beautiful, and then she's back to despising herself, telling me she's a fat ugly blob," I sighed, feeling defeated.

After my sister got quiet, I looked at her, saw her writing in her notepad, and returned to looking at the ceiling.

"I've tried telling her she's beautiful, that nobody else's opinion about her matters. I've told her that her body is perfect, showing her strength and what she sacrificed to carry two children. I've told her so many things I thought would help get her to see she's perfect everywhere. I'm at a loss, Shayla. I've tried everything I thought would work. I want to help her, but I'm also afraid of saying the wrong thing that would set her off."

"So. Let me get this straight. She was married, had two kids, lost all three of them two years ago, and believes she's the reason they're gone. She's had many failed suicide attempts and has been harming herself since high school. She returned to Chicago a few months ago, hoping to reconcile with you. You accepted her apology and forgave her. And I'm unsure if I read this right, but what you told me has me wondering. Are you and her more than friends now?"

"Would that be a bad thing?"

"No. I know how much you were in love with her. But I also know how much you hated her guts afterward. I'm confused with how you went from questioning giving her a second chance just a few weeks ago to you and her being an item. Did you two go from friendship to lovers right off the bat?"

I can't lie to my sister. That's pretty much what happened.

"You can say that."

"Isn't that a little too soon?"

"Probably."

I sighed.

Now Shayla has me thinking I should've waited until Sloane was in a better state of mind. But after losing her once and how depressed she was, I thought it would help her move on.

"I thought it might help her. Give her hope, you know? Because of her scars, she hates going places, afraid people will stare at her. And from what she's admitted to me and how I realized I never fell out of love with her, I figured to see where our relationship would go."

"And you're not doing this because that's what grandma wants, right? Because if it is, I suggest you rethink what you're doing. The worst thing you can do is jump into a relationship just because it's what someone close to us wants you to do."

I shook my head. I'm not doing this for our grandmother. I'm doing this for Sloane, for us, and for me.

It's obvious we never got over each other, even though our relationship in the ninth grade was just a friendship. We both loved each other, and we're roadblocked from acting on it because of some shitty-ass teenagers.

Fucking mean girls—bullies...

"No. I didn't do this for grandma. I did it for Sloane. She married someone, hoping it would help her get over me. Then there's me, scared to have my heart broken again, that I turned into a fucking man-whore, hoping it would help me get over Sloane. Then, seeing each other again proved how much we still cared about each other. So, I figured I'd give her something to smile about by asking if she would like to take our relationship to the next level and... the next level after that," I admitted, pursing my lips.

Shayla face palmed when I looked over to see what kind of expression her face was showing. She's not one to want to know anyone's sex life. Now, Mariah? She'd be asking for me to give her all the dirty details.

If I knew any better, she's probably a member of Trent's club, too. But afraid to know I've never asked.

However, after the shock of seeing Lilah in one of those rooms, I think I better find out if she is a member. The last thing I want to see is my baby sister in one of those rooms having sex.

"So, you and Sloane are having sex."

"Yes. It's been a few days, but yes," I admitted, even though I told Shayla more than she wanted to hear.

She probably thinks that was too fast, too. But I couldn't help it. Sex with Sloane was something I always dreamed of.

Even when I hated her—something nobody knows but me.

"Where is she now?"

"Home."

"Since I haven't seen her, has her depression worsened since you two reconciled?"

I thought back to when I first saw her, the scare when I thought she harmed herself and had to break into her home, to bringing her to my home and having her stay with me for the week, our talks, getting her out and about, having sex with her, and how she's been these last few days.

I don't think it's worsened. Sloane's just returned to where she was when I first saw her.

"I don't think so. She's just the same stubborn girl I've always known her to be. She's back to refusing to accept she's beautiful, still believing the accident is her fault, still feeling sorry for her actions and how she hurt the ones she loved and cared about. And the expected—badly missing her kids."

"Well, it sounds like you're doing everything right, Aaron. But what she really needs to do is seek help and continue treatment here. She needs to get back on medication if she's not on any right now. Helping someone get through depression is a tough task. But if you stick with helping her, letting her know you've got an open ear, and continue encouraging her to get better, she can get through this. But you need to push her to get help. If she won't talk to me, I can also give you some names and numbers for her to call. There are also support groups she can go to as well. Which if you can get her to go, you should go with her. It might help you, too," she hinted. Letting me know in her own way, she knows more about me than I've mentioned.

"Support groups," I quietly repeated, thinking that's an excellent place to start. "Do you have any suggestions on which ones I could bring her to and where those places would be? Because that's something I wouldn't know where to look."

"I've got pamphlets I'll give you before you leave. I have just one word of advice."

"What's that." Because I need all the advice I can get. I want to be the one to make Sloane better.

I need to show and prove to her I'm not just doing this for the hell of it. I'm doing this because I care about her and want to see her get better.

I want the Sloane I used to know back. Not her looks, but her personality.

"Never force her into doing something she doesn't want to do. It'll make things worse."

***

I was a bit bothered when I left my sister's office. I couldn't stop wondering if Sloane went back to where she was because I'd been forcing her to do things she didn't want to do, like making her repeat after me about how beautiful she was and so forth.

I only did that trying to get in her head that she was—is gorgeous. And that she's perfect because she is. I just wanted her to see that I don't care about her scars, weight gain, or stretch marks.

It's her I care about.

Feeling guilty for assuming that's what I did, I stopped at the store on my way to Sloane's house to get her a card and flowers. Hoping that might cheer her up.

Women enjoy receiving flowers, right?

I also stopped to buy groceries to make Sloane dinner. Because knowing her, she probably hadn't eaten, thinking it would help her lose weight. And as Shayla told me, and like I thought it was the case, she has to eat, or it'll affect her mood.

So, remembering how much she loves Chinese food and how she used to enjoy my Chop Suey, I bought everything to make that for her.

Hopefully, this will be enough for her to smile for me tonight.

I'm trying... I really am.

I stood outside Sloane's door, knocking and ringing the doorbell for a good five minutes, fear growing inside me the longer I knocked. Then, as I held my phone to my ear, waiting for her to answer, relief washed over me when the door opened.

Her hair was wet, and a towel tightly wrapped around her body. "Sorry, I was in the shower. Come in," she greeted, stepping away from the door.

Sliding the bag into my other arm, I stepped in front of her, cupped her head, and pulled her to my mouth, showing her in the kiss how worried I was about her.

"Do you always answer the door half-naked?" I teased, smiling against her lips.

"No. I knew it was you," Sloane said, returning the smile.

"How?"

"The persistence of the knocking and ringing of the doorbell. And then, hearing my phone ringing repeatedly while you were trying to grab my attention, I knew. Plus, nobody else comes to see me, and I didn't order anything, so that helped, too."

I pulled her in for another kiss, happy to see she was okay and in a better mood than she was the other day.

Lowering my hand to her ass, I slapped it and said, "Go get dressed while I start making dinner."

I pulled the bag away from her when she tried looking inside. "No peeking."

"What are you making?"

"It's a surprise."

"Can you give me a hint?"

I slowly shook my head, grinning. "Nope. Go get dressed because this shouldn't take too long to make."

She hummed, trying to guess what it was.

"Go," I ordered, guiding her away from the door and urging her to head to her room. "Get dressed and do whatever else you do after showering."

I still had flowers to get out of my vehicle and vegetables to chop. And I didn't want Sloane around when I was doing that.

"Fine."

When she left the room, I set the bag of groceries on the counter, then hurried to my Suburban, grabbed the card and flowers, set them on the center of her table, and then got to work cutting the chicken, chopping the carrots, and celery, and mincing the garlic.

It had been a while since I last made Chop Suey, and I worried I'd screw it up, but it all came back to me the second I started cooking it.

"Yum. Something smells amazingly good in here," Sloane happily hummed as she entered the kitchen.

I quickly turned on my heel and pointed to the living room. "Out."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not finished. I don't want you seeing what it is yet."

"It smells like Chinese," she said, grinning like she knew what I was making. She had a sparkle in her eye when she said Chinese.

"Maybe it is, maybe it's not," I teased.

A frown formed on my lips when she turned and looked at the table. I should've waited to set those out until the food was ready.

"Aaron?"

"Yes," I answered, ensuring the sauce had thickened.

"Why are there two dozen roses on my table?"

"Because I bought them for you."

"Why? I didn't do anything to deserve them."

"You're my girl, aren't you?" I asked, stirring the sauce.

"Yeah," she said quietly, causing me to turn around since it sounded like she was about to cry. "Nobody's ever given me roses before," she said, sitting and pulling the red glass vase toward her. "They're beautiful, Aaron," she said, awed.

I headed over to her, lifted her chin, and lowered my mouth to hers while gazing into her eyes, saying, "You're beautiful." I kissed her lips. "And you deserved them. So don't question why I got them for you. Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered.

I kissed her lips again, saying, "The food is done. You better eat, too."

"I will."

"Good. Stay here, and I'll dish you up your food."

"Can I open the card while I wait?"

I smiled. "Of course."

I dished up our plates, and as I walked them to the table, I discreetly crossed my fingers, hoping what I made was okay.

As I set the plate in front of her, my heart ached when I saw wetness glistening underneath her eyes.

I set my plate down, then held her chin and had her look at me. "Did I do something wrong?"

She shook her head, muttering, "No."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. I'm just in awe right now. Between the flowers, the beautiful card, and you cooking me dinner. I'm not used to this. It hit me."

"Sloane, I told you I'd try. And that's what I'm doing."

"I know, but this is... just... so heartwarming," she stuttered, still awed. "Logan had girlfriends before he met me. He cooked but never went out of his way to make anything romantic. Not for me. Then there's you, who's never had a girlfriend, who never went out of their way to make a girl happy, and you just did all of that—for me."

"I said I'd try, and that's what I'm doing. I like seeing you smile. I've missed seeing you smile. And when you said nobody has ever done this for you, means you've forgotten how I used to go out of my way to make you smile and happy when we were kids." I kissed her again, then stepped away to show her what was in front of her.

Hopefully, when she sees what I made, it will jog her memory.

I also hope this will get her to see since I'm trying for her, she'll try getting better for me.

Sloane gasped the second she saw her plate. "You didn't."

I chuckled, taking a seat. "I did."

"You remembered it was my favorite," she gushed, but there was also a hint of tears in her throat.

"I remember everything, Sloane," I said, sliding my fork into the Chop Suey. "And this was one meal I remember whenever I'd make it when you couldn't get enough, so because of that. I doubled the batch. Now you have leftovers."

"Thank you."

I watched her as she ate, wondering if she'd try playing with her food or nibbling instead of taking bites. And she did what I'd hoped she would. She ate. And not only did she eat. She scarfed it down and went for seconds, grabbing my plate on her way and refilling mine as well.

That told me she hadn't eaten since she left my house a few days ago.

"Is it as you remember?"

"It's even better. What did you do differently?"

Holding my fork near my lips, I looked at her and grinned as I answered, "I made it with love."

Because I did.

Even though I made it with love when we were kids, I had to share it with my sisters and parents. Now that they're not here, this was all made for her—with more love than before, so she'd have something to eat for lunch this week instead of starving herself like she'd been.

Sloane set down her fork, stood, and stepped over to me, sliding between the table and me to sit on my lap—straddling me.

She leaned forward and kissed me with her arms secured around my shoulders.

"What was that for?" I asked when her mouth left mine, smiling, loving she made the first move for the first time since we made our relationship official.

"For everything you're doing for me. It's also an apology for how I've been these last few days. Actually, for how I've been the past week. You're trying so hard to be the guy I need and a boyfriend you've never been, and here I am, taking everything you're doing for granted and not doing my part to be who you want me to be—who I should be."

I slid my fingers through her hair, letting her know I was okay with how she's been. Even though she had worried me. But after talking with my sister and how she got me to see Sloane was trying to heal from her depression, I feel better than I was.

"You're fine. I know you're struggling; getting back to yourself will take time. I also know what you're going through can't be fixed overnight. So, let's just continue how we've been, one day at a time."

She pulled me back to her mouth, and then I got the surprise of my life when she said, "I don't know what your plans were for us tonight, but I was thinking maybe you could bring me to the club. I want to do some more exploring. Maybe even do more than just explore."

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!!