The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 34

"I know, I know!" Quentin tucked the files away, then walked back over to Sloane, adjusting his glasses.

"Sloane, this is perfect. If you have any questions, you can just ask Josh."

"Right, Coach. You should head back in..."

"Alright, alright. I'll be waiting for your answer, Sloane!"

...

After Quentin left, a heavy silence fell between them. Sloane hadn't seen Josh Jace in exactly five years, and she suddenly didn't know what to say. Josh stayed quiet too, obediently walking by her side until they reached the glow of a streetlamp.

Sloane looked up at the young man.

The guy standing in front of her was Josh, yet he wasn't the same bright-eyed, slightly stubborn teenager who used to follow her everywhere. His jawline was sharper, his shoulders broader. He stood there like a tree that had weathered storms and finally settled its roots.

"Josh?"

Sloane's voice sounded a little dry to her own ears.

"Are you going to Antarctica?"

Josh stepped closer. He raised his eyes, and a chaotic mix of emotions flashed through them—surprise, awkwardness, and a trace of something burning hot that he was trying desperately to suppress. It suddenly reminded Sloane of that dark alley many years ago, when he had been pinned to the ground by debt collectors and looked up at her with those same red-rimmed eyes.

"I haven't decided yet," Sloane said, feigning a casual tone.

"Could you just... not go?"

"Why?"

"Antarctica... is dangerous," Josh said, enunciating every word.

"But you're going?"

"The beef stew," Sloane said.

Josh repeated the order to the waitress, adding one extra instruction: "Hold the onions." As soon as he said it, he glanced at Sloane, double-checking, "You still don't eat onions, right?"

Sloane's heart warmed. She hadn't expected him to remember her aversions after all these years.

Truthfully, ever since she got married, she didn't have the luxury of being a picky eater. Back when she was nursing Archie, she had forced down giant bowls of whatever was put in front of her.

Still, Sloane smiled and nodded. "Yeah, no onions."

The soup arrived quickly. The thick, savory broth bubbled, letting off a mouthwatering aroma. Josh took the bowl in front of Sloane, gently stirred it with a spoon to let the heat escape, filled it about three-quarters of the way, and pushed it back to her.

Then, as if making a monumental decision, he carefully opened his mouth.

"Sloane, these past few years... how have you been?"