by Jamie Howard
I take a sip of my Scotch. How did I ever drink that cheap ass beer I was so fond of? “Don’t you think you’re being a little overdramatic?”
“Overdramatic? I wish I was being overdramatic. I wish that my sister didn’t turn into some flat, emotionless mannequin that says whatever she wants regardless of who it will hurt.” She pokes at an ice cube with her straw, her mouth pinching at the corners.
I still haven’t figured out what the hell happened between the two of them. How did they get from the smiling, carefree best friends on the home screen of Sloane’s phone to this?
When Sloane did her disappearing act that summer, it took a whole handful of phone calls and a good two hours before we tracked her down. By then I was in a panic imagining her car wrapped around a tree or upside down in a ditch, but it turned out she’d just headed back to the Point. I never got an explanation for why she left, but I filled in the blanks myself. I called her every day for two weeks, then every other day for another two after that. In the six months that I continued calling her, she never answered, never called me back. She couldn’t even be bothered sending me a damn text message.
For about five minutes when I ran into Blaire the summer after, I blamed myself for their rift. How could I not, when I was sure Blaire told Sloane that we slept together? My logic seemed sound until Blaire admitted that she never even told Sloane. Which also meant there was a very good chance that Blaire didn’t know what happened between Sloane and me. But if that was the case, then I didn’t even have a guess as to what went down with them that summer.
Every time I ask, Blaire gets very tight-lipped about the whole thing and refuses to answer. Five years and a decent friendship between us, and she still won’t give up the secret.
“I’m sorry,” I say to her. “I can’t picture the Sloane I knew as the person you’re describing. Even when I was driving her up a wall or treating her like crap, she was one of the best people I’ve ever known.”
Her head quirks to the side as her eyes narrow. I know that look. I want to run and hide from that look.
“You really did get under her skin, didn’t you?”
“You could say that.”
She swirls her straw in her near-empty glass, making the ice cubes clink against the glass like liquid chimes. The sound is damn irritating. I’m this close to yanking the glass out of her hand, when she stops and looks at me. “Sloane’s got her emotions under tight control, but maybe with your help, we could push her buttons to the point where she’d have to feel something.”
“Ten seconds ago you were warning me about the cross fire. Now you want me to dump gasoline on the fire?”
“Please, Luke. I just want my sister back. At least think about it. Wait until you see her before you make up your mind. You’ll see.” She glances down at her watch. “Oh, did you give Haley fair warning?”
I scrub a hand through my hair. “Fuck, Blaire, what am I supposed to tell her?”
Blaire’s eyes shift away from me at the sound of the door opening and closing. She grimaces. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. Looks like you’re out of time.”
My eyes flick to the front door and pick out Bunny in her neon green and orange flower-print dress. I recognize Sloane immediately as she follows behind her. She looks nearly the same, and yet there are small things that are off. Her hair is longer and hangs in waves down her back. She’s all-over tanned like she spends every minute of every day in the sun, and that thing she’s wearing that I wouldn’t even call a shirt gives me an impressive view of her tits.
She looks at Blaire, nods, and then sits down on a stool two away from her. Rather than sitting between them, Bunny takes the stool on Sloane’s other side. Apparently Blaire wasn’t joking about her cross-fire comment.
Resting her forearms against the polished surface of the bar, she finally looks at me. I hold my breath, expecting something—I’m not sure what, exactly—but there’s … nothing. I prepared myself for rage, hurt, animosity, sadness—anything. But this, this flatness, this vacant expression, it’s almost worse. It’s like all the fire’s gone out of her.
She leans up on her forearms, and when she bends forward, I can’t help snatching a glance at everything she’s revealing with her gaping top. I’ve changed, but not that much.
Snagging a finger through my belt loop, she gives a little tug and then sticks a hundred-dollar bill in my waistband. “Get me a martini, would ya, Luke? And keep the change.” She pats me on the ass and winks.
She takes me so off guard that words fail to materialize in my mouth.
Blaire’s eyes nearly fall into her drink. Not waiting for my response, Sloane crosses one leg over the other and peruses the place. I try to see it through her eyes. Nearly everything has been redone—from the floors, to the paint, to the felt on the pool tables. What used to be a dingy bar with a random smattering of tables and chairs has transformed into a bright and busy restaurant with the bar serving as an accent rather than the centerpiece. The wood floors gleam with polish. as do the tables, which are nearly all full.
I transfer the cash from my pants to the register and slide Sloane her drink. She takes a hearty sip and then licks her lips.
The awkward silence is so thick I can part it with my hands. I get the feeling we’re standing in the middle of a minefield where the slightest wrong movement will blow us all into little fleshy bits.
Haley chooses that moment to reappear from the bathroom. I nearly groan out loud when she takes the seat between Blaire and Sloane. The look on Blaire’s face is comical, like Wile E. Coyote right before he realizes an anvil is about to smash him into the ground. Even Bunny looks worried.
Shit.
Haley swipes a hand through her pale-blond hair. “Phew, I think I managed to get all the dirt off. Some people, I’m telling you.”
Sloane assesses her in one quick glance and rolls her eyes.
Scooting forward so she can see around Sloane, Bunny says, “What happened, dear?”
“My car broke down. I was waiting on the side of the road for some help, when this bright yellow sports car zoomed by and covered me in a cloud of dust. God, I think I’ve got ten pounds of the stuff in my lungs.” She wrinkles her nose and takes a sip of her water.
It’s Blaire’s turn to lean forward. “Seriously, Sloane?”
I glance between the two of them, realization settling in. A yellow sports car—I should have guessed. Whatever happened to the Mas? I loved that car.
Sloane makes a face. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who told me to never stop to help people on the side of the road. Something about serial killers and ax murderers, if I remember correctly.”
In no time flat this conversation has circled right around into dangerous territory.
Haley looks at Sloane, who stares back at her. When no introduction is forthcoming, she rotates her gaze to me and smiles. “It doesn’t matter. Luke came to my rescue and took a look at my car.”
Sloane snorts into her glass and nearly chokes on her drink. There’s a smile splitting her face when she turns toward Haley. “Seriously? This guy? He couldn’t tell a carburetor from a camshaft to save his life.”
The easy smile that Haley always wears disappears as she frowns. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“I’m Sloane. Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Haley.”
“Luke’s girlfriend,” Blaire adds.
I shouldn’t be nervous for Sloane’s reaction. She hasn’t been a part of my life for a long time now. And yet I find myself waiting for her response. Is it wrong that a small part of me wants her to be jealous?
She divides a glance between the two of us and then bursts out laughing. Haley’s expression turns steely.
She does her best to stare down Sloane, but it’s about as effective as a mouse staring down a mountain lion. Sloane looks at her with an amused expression on her face.
“Do you two know each other?” Haley asks, the agitation palpable in her voice.
/> Picking the martini glass up by the stem, Sloane drains the rest of it. When she answers, she’s looking at me, not Haley. “At one time I would have said yes, but the only real thing I ever knew about Luke was the one thing he tried to convince me wasn’t true.” She turns to Haley. “So to answer your question, no, we don’t know each other. I don’t think we ever did.”
Plucking the toothpick from the glass, she sinks her teeth into the olive and pulls it off. She flicks the toothpick back onto the bar top. Without a backward glance, she saunters over to the pool table and slips a hand into the back pocket of some random guy. He tenses at first, then smiles in her direction. At his grin, she steals his hat and pulls it down on her head. She scrunches her nose up as she tugs on the brim, and he says something that makes her laugh, running one long strand of her honey-blond hair between his fingers.
“Who was that, Luke?”
I drag my eyes away and try to find an adequate way to describe Sloane, but as my mind is trying to construct the words, Blaire jumps in. “It’s my sister. Try to ignore her if you can.”
Haley makes a face. “That’s your sister?”
“I know, she’s really such a pleasant person,” she says with a smirk.
Bunny stares Blaire down with a stony expression. Shaking her head first at her, then at me, she hops off her stool, and shuffles out of the bar, her cane thumping against the floor. What the hell did I do? I didn’t say a word.
Haley reaches out and grabs my hand. “I’m gonna head home, babe. I’m beat. You coming by my place tonight?”
“Can’t. I’ve gotta close, so by the time I’m done. I’m just gonna crash.”
Raising herself up on her tiptoes, she kisses me. “I’ve got class in the morning, but call me later?”
“Sure thing.”
I watch her ass all the way to the exit. I must say, I’m quite fond of that ass.
My eyes take a detour around the room, landing on another ass, just as exquisite. But this particular one is practically bare. As Sloane bends over the pool table, lining up her shot, her shorts ride up so high that I know for a fact there’s nothing between her and the denim of her shorts but bare skin.
Just seeing her bent over like that gives me an instant hard-on. Thank God I’m standing behind the bar. I guess that’s another thing that hasn’t changed. Time certainly hasn’t dulled my attraction to Sloane, not even a little.
A hand waves in front of my face. “Earth to Luke.”
My gaze snaps down to Blaire. “Sorry, what?”
“Oh, so you aren’t mute. I really wasn’t sure for a second there. I thought you were just going to watch while Sloane tore Haley a new one.”
Damn it, should I have said something? Haley and I had talked briefly about my past, but other than giving her some general details about it being rough, I hadn’t given her any specifics. She hadn’t been too keen on talking about her past, either, but I got the impression that it wasn’t great. She was content to leave the past in the past and take me at face value. It was one of the things that drew me to her.
Unlike most of the locals who are well aware of my past, Haley sees me for who I am, not who I was. For someone like me, that trait is invaluable.
Sloane’s infectious laughter draws my gaze once more.
“Which brings me to point number two,” Blaire says.
“Was there a point number one?”
She gives me an icy glare. “Stop staring at Sloane. Nothing, and I mean nothing, good will come of that.”
I lean on the bar, holding her eyes with mine. “I’m with Haley. Sloane being here isn’t going to change that.”
She smirks at me. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”
I roll my eyes at her, but another of Sloane’s giggles reels my gaze right back in. I watch in shock as she grabs some guy by the shirt and drags him with her into the men’s restroom. Blaire shakes her head as she watches.
“I tried to tell you.”
I drain the rest of my drink, enjoying the burn. “If I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it. She’s everything she always hated.”
“She’s you five years ago. Without any emotions.”
I flick an ice cube at her and she ducks. “Watch it.”
If there’s one thing that I’ve always known, it’s that I owe more to Sloane Avery than I’ll probably ever be able to repay. So, although I know this is one of the worst ideas I’ve had in a really long time, I say, “Alright, I’m in.”
Chapter 28
Sloane
My hand flails against the nightstand, slapping against the wood as I try to snatch my ringing phone from it. Connecting with it, I yank it back under the covers and press it to my ear.
“Sloane, are you there?” I hear Blaire’s annoyingly chirpy voice on the line.
“Yes.”
“Gran asked me to call. One of the girls called in sick this morning and Gran wants you to come down here.” I can hear water running in the background and the hiss of grease on the fry top. She must be standing in the kitchen.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Of course I know what time it is,” she snaps.
“Whatever. I’ll be there in thirty.” I hang up before I have to listen to one more word from her.
I roll out of bed and stretch. Three hours. I only slept for three hours. It’s a good thing that I’m used to functioning on no sleep. I turn around and glance at the other body in my bed. Picking up his discarded jeans, I heave them at him.
He jerks up and blinks at me owlishly.
“I’m going to take a shower. You need to be gone by the time I’m done.”
“Are you sure? We could—”
“No.”
“Can I call you?”
“No.”
Scooping up some fresh clothes from my suitcase, I make quick work of the shower, barely waiting for the water to warm. I run my fingers through my hair as I dry it, brushing them from my scalp to the middle of my back where it ends. In jean shorts and a T-shirt, I drive over to the diner and arrive with one minute to spare.
It’s still mostly empty with only a few of the early birds, but I know that will change within the hour. Luckily, my waitressing skills are still up-to-date from picking up the odd waitressing jobs in Italy, France, and Turkey.
Blaire gives me a once-over as I snatch an extra apron from the shelf in the back. “You look surprisingly awake for getting so little sleep last night.”
“And how would you know how much sleep I got?”
“Luke told me how late you left.”
I search through one of the boxes for a notepad. “Oh, do you have him on speed dial? Does Harrison really not mind you having a boyfriend on the side?”
Two red spots appear on Blaire’s cheeks. God, she is so easy. When it comes to her, I can’t help myself. I want her to hurt like she hurt me. “First of all, there is absolutely nothing going on between Luke and me. Second of all, Harrison and Luke are friends. Third, Luke is with Haley now.”
There’s nothing going on between you and Luke now, I’m tempted to add, but don’t. Blaire is still ignorant of the fact that I saw them together, and I’m more than happy to keep it that way. When it first happened, I wanted to confront her about it, to throw all the anger I had crescendoing inside me right in her face. But in order to do that, I would have to admit I slept with Luke. That I had been a fucking lovesick fool who gave her heart away to the guy who couldn’t keep it in his pants. Again. And that, I wasn’t willing to do.
So, when the anger, rage, heartbreak, pain, bitterness, and betrayal had threatened to overwhelm me—I stuffed it all down and buried it in a long-forgotten part of my mind.
I swipe a pen from the counter and twirl it between my fingers. “You say that like it means something. I know the kind of guy Luke is, and ‘being’ with Haley means absolutely nothing.”
Her hands find her hips as she squares off against me. “He’s not like that anymore.”
I shake my head at her naïveté. “Here’s the lesson of the day for you, cupcake. People. Don’t. Change.”
“That’s funny coming from you.”
Before I get a chance to respond, the door swings open and Gran pops her head through the crack in the door. “Sloane, can you please go wait on table seven?”
“Sure.”
Marching across the room I hip-check the door. A creepy sense of déjà vu washes over me as I spy Luke seated at my table. I shake away the memory, and it dissipates like paint dripping down canvas, leaving only the present in front of me.
“Good morning, Luke. What can I get for you?”
He looks suspicious at my cheerful demeanor. Whereas I’m not missing the extra hours of sleep, he doesn’t seem to be faring as well. His eyes still have that pinched, half-asleep look, and stubble shades his jaw. “Coffee, black, and French toast. Please.”
I take his menu and bustle back into the kitchen. One vegetarian omelet, orange juice, and a side of fries coming right up. I tear the slip off my pad and pass it to the cook.
I wait in the back until the order is up and then take it out to him. Instead of putting it down and walking away, I sit down in the bench opposite him.
He looks from the food to me. “This isn’t what I ordered.”
I shrug. “It seems like a more appropriate order for the new you, much more … bland.”
His eyes sharpen and I can see he didn’t miss my insinuation. I nearly gagged when I got my first peek at his girlfriend yesterday. Between her doe eyes and thrift-store outfit, she practically screamed boring.
Picking up his fork, he cuts off a section of omelet and pops it in his mouth. He tries to hide his distaste for it but fails. “You know, Sloane, not everything is as it seems. Sometimes people take you by surprise.”
I sense a challenge and grin at him. “Would you like to wager on that?” Reaching across the table, I grab the salt shaker and salt his fries.
The fork twists in his fingers as he considers it. “What do you have in mind?”