by Jamie Howard
When Sloane answered her last question, about loving someone who didn’t love her back, my heart stepped into an empty elevator shaft and plummeted to the bottom. For about half a second I thought she was talking about me, but it must have been Nick that she meant. Him or some other guy she met in her travels. No, it definitely wasn’t me, and it only proved how big of a fucking idiot I am that I even thought it.
I need to stay away from her. Far away from Sloane before she destroys everything I worked so hard for.
The door clicks closed to my right, and I turn toward it as drops of water snake their way down my face. Even though I’m standing underneath an overhang, the wind is still fanning water in my direction so that my shirt clings to me like a second skin.
Blaire reaches up a hand and rests it on my arm. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head, staring out through the sheets of rain to where the waves heave and toss. “I’m not sure.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Just keep Sloane away from me, would you? She sets Haley off, and I don’t need any more problems right now. Another few weeks and she’ll be gone and things can go back to the way they were.”
She squeezes my arm. When I look down at her, she’s shivering and there are long strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks.
I wrap an arm around her shoulder, tucking her against my side. “Let’s go back inside. It’s stupid to be out here. I just needed a minute.”
We make our way back inside, now soaked from the rain. I swipe a hand through my hair, droplets of water careening down my neck and the length of my spine as I do. Harrison is sitting with Haley, and there’s a small smile playing about her lips. Something inside me unclenches at the sight of it.
My eyes stray to where Sloane is curled up on the bench of the booth. She’s got one arm tucked underneath her head like a pillow, but she’s not asleep. Her eyes stare straight ahead as if she’s looking right through the opposite seat. For a second I think I see the telltale glisten of tears in her eyes, but I shake my head. It must be a trick of the light. Sloane doesn’t cry anymore. In order for her to do that, she’d actually have to feel, which is as unlikely to happen as the Easter Bunny delivering Christmas presents on Saint Patrick’s Day. I make my way toward Haley and put Sloane behind me for good.
Chapter 38
Sloane
It’s been a week since Tropical Storm Bruce blew through and did damage to more than just Gran’s siding. I haven’t seen Luke once since then. His absence around Gran’s house has been noted by more than just me. I can only assume that he’s avoiding me. I wonder if it’s because of some ultimatum from Haley or a decision he’s made on his own.
I pretend that it doesn’t hurt, but it does. I count down the days until I can get the hell out of here and lose myself in a crowd of faceless, nameless people. It’s so much better that way. You can’t get hurt if you never let anyone close enough to actually care about them.
Emerging from my bedroom, I walk past the living room, stop, then go in reverse.
“Gran, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at one of your treatments?” I peer over at the clock.
She glances up guiltily from her book and then sighs.
Realization sinks in. “You’re not sick, are you?”
“No. I’m as healthy as an ox. There was a lump, mind you, but it came back clean. Now I would have told you sooner, but I knew as soon as I did, you’d be packing your bags and outta here. I might be fine but my family isn’t, so I don’t regret keeping it to myself.” She tosses the book on the table and squares her shoulders, ready for a fight.
I just don’t have it in me. Not anymore. I’m so tired of the charade, so tired of trying to hide everything I’m feeling behind a giant wall of flippancy and sarcasm. These past few weeks have completely drained the fight out of me.
I run a hand over my face. “I wish you wouldn’t lie to me. You’re the only one I can count on for not doing that.”
Tilting her head, she studies me. There isn’t much to see. Just a mess of a person in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, with grimy hair that hasn’t been washed in two days. She pats the cushion next to her and I sneak a glance at the door.
“Sloane Ophelia Avery, do not make this old lady chase you.”
I cringe. I have no idea what Dad was thinking with that middle name.
Giving in, I flop down onto the couch. “I’m sorry, Sloane, I shouldn’t have lied. I couldn’t think of any other way to get you back here. I tried everything, but getting you on the phone was harder than painting my toenails. I needed to see my girl, see for myself that you were doing okay.”
Nodding, I let my gaze shift around the room, skimming over picture frames and random knickknacks. “And have I convinced you?”
“Hardly.” Gran huffs out a breath. “It’s that Evans boy again, isn’t it?”
I drop my head into my hands, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands. “There’s nothing between Luke and me.” Peering through my fingers, I stare at the beige carpet.
“Am I supposed to believe that crap?”
My head snaps up and I stare at her.
She gives me a knowing look. “Just like there was nothing between you five years ago?” She snorts. “I’ve been around a long time, Sloane, and I see more than most people think. If anyone was looking close enough, they’d see it, too. It’s written all over both of your faces. Just like it was back then. And every time that boy swings by my house, he’s always fishing for information on how you’re doing. Why don’t you both do yourselves a favor and stop beating around the bush?”
I shake my head, willing back the tears that are blurring my vision. “You’re wrong. He loves Haley.”
“That twinkie? She can’t handle him on her best day.” Grabbing my hand in hers, she squeezes it so hard I can feel her strong bones through her paper-thin skin. “Don’t let the fear of getting your heart broken stop you from loving. It’s the best thing you can ever do.”
When my tears slip from my chin to patter on the espresso fabric of her couch, she only squeezes my hand tighter, and I squeeze right back.
* * *
I’m still thinking about how dumb an idea this is when I pull open the door to The Edge. The low rumble of conversations surrounds me as I make my way to the bar. I’m just here because I want a drink. I am not here because I want to see Luke.
Nope, just here for a drink.
I’m also not checking him out as I boost myself onto one of the barstools. I’m just looking him over to make sure that he’s okay. It’s friendly concern, that’s all. If my eyes happen to linger on where his tight shirt stretches across his chest and biceps, or where his jeans hug the curves of his ass, that’s really just coincidence. He wears an easy smile and his eyes look warm and bright. That is until he catches sight of me.
He really has been ignoring me. Another chunk of my heart crumbles.
He drops a shutter in front of his eyes and his smile dims. “Sloane, what can I get for you?”
“Just an Absolut and cranberry, please.” My tone takes him by surprise, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his gaze slides over me. I had the presence of mind to change out of my pajamas and take a shower, so at least there’s no outward sign that I’ve spent the last two days holed up in Gran’s house eating raw cookie dough and watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy.
His mouth opens, but then he snaps it shut, probably deciding not to waste his breath on me. “Sure, coming right up.”
I have to get out of here. I’m such an ass. I don’t know what I expected coming here.
The glass is cold and wet as he slides it across the bar. Wrapping my hand around it, I wonder if I hold on to it long enough if it’ll numb every part of me. I shove my hand in my pocket and then toss some bills toward him without even bothering to look up. I can feel him hesitating there, looking at me, but in another heartbeat, he walks away to help the next customer.
When he’s
farther away it isn’t as hard to breathe.
I people-watch as I sip slowly at my drink. Gripping the black straw between my fingers, I swirl it around absently. Someone ordered fried pickles; I can smell them from here. As I turn to signal to Luke, deciding that I want to order some, I catch sight of his face.
He’s wearing the face of Jack the Ripper right before he’s about to slash the throat of his next victim. His expression is carved in stone, and I’m not even sure he’s breathing. Fear prickles across my skin, making goose bumps bloom up and down my arms. I’m afraid to turn around but force myself to. I have to see what or who he’s looking at.
I rotate in my seat, my shorts sliding easily over the wooden stool.
Evelyn.
The breath rushes out of my body like someone just swung a two-by-four at me and clobbered me square in the stomach. Gran had told me that Cash’s death and the crash had been ruled an accident. They didn’t have any proof to the contrary. So when Evelyn showed up in a hospital a few days later, they’d had no choice but to let her go. As far as I know, she’s never been back, and the look on Luke’s face is screaming confirmation of that fact.
Before I can react, he leaps over the bar, upsetting a man’s beer in his lap. His yell is drowned out by Luke’s as he charges across the room at Evelyn. Everyone’s head spins around to watch the scene unfold, their food left forgotten on their plates.
Grabbing her by the upper arms, he lifts her and then slams her against the wall. No one moves.
“You think you can just fucking come here, you bitch?!” His fingers dig into the soft flesh in her upper arms, leaving instant bruises. The white T-shirt she’s wearing is stained and hangs on her, clearly several sizes too big. Her eyes look huge and sunken in her face, crusted over by thick, dark eye shadow and mascara. As she starts to cry, black tears stream down her cheeks.
I have no idea what he’s intending to do, but I’m not going to wait to find out.
I slap my phone into someone’s hand. “Call the police. Now.”
My feet are moving before my mind decides what to do. The only thing I know is that I have to stop him. I’m half afraid that he might kill her, and there are way too many witnesses for that. If there weren’t, I would consider doing the job myself.
My own dose of disgust and hatred rolls through me, turning my stomach until I feel sick.
I’m by Luke’s side in seconds as he continues to scream at her. It’s so loud and deafening right next to my ear I can barely make out what he’s saying. I try to get in between them, shoving ineffectually against Luke’s chest. It’s like trying to topple the Berlin Wall with a feather.
“Luke!” I scream, trying to get his attention. He gives no sign that he even hears me.
“What do you want? Why are you here?” He’s shaking her, and her head snaps back and forth, rattling her teeth.
“Money! I need money. Please, not a lot. I know you have some!”
My gaze skips down to her bare arms, where track marks dot the crook of her arm. She must be really high to think that it would be a good idea to come here. To think that Luke would give her money to feed her habit.
“For money!? You killed my brother, you fucking junkie!”
The muscles in his arms bulge as he shakes her. Evelyn’s whimpers stream from her mouth as she flips her head from side to side trying to avoid his eyes.
“Luke!” I scream again, feeling panicked.
Still no response.
So I do the only thing I can think of that might snap him out of it. I turn around, draw back my fist, and punch Evelyn square in the face. Her head jerks back, cracking against the wall. As her eyes roll back in her head, her body goes limp.
Her body sags in his arms, and as the dead weight drags at him, I see his eyes sharpen. He releases her abruptly and she collapses into a heap on the floor, her limbs lying at awkward angles. Staggering backward, he runs a hand through his hair and starts shaking his head.
I step in front of him, wrapping my hands around his biceps. They don’t even make it halfway around them, looking small and helpless in comparison.
“Luke. Luke!”
He drags his eyes down to me, trying to focus on my face. I guide him backward until his knees catch on a chair and he falls down onto it. The police choose that moment to show up. The officer takes in the scene with one glance.
“Ladies and gentleman, if you could please take your dinners and drinks out onto the deck and give us the room, it would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.”
I recognize him from the burst pipe at my rental. He’s still got the damn gum in his mouth.
He waits until the room empties before coming over to us. Luke’s still out of it, rocking back and forth slightly in the chair.
“Miss, do you care to tell me what happened here?” He reaches up and pulls off his aviators, folding them in his hand.
“I hit her,” I say, wanting to make it clear that the blame should belong to me and not Luke.
He glances at where Evelyn’s body is crumpled on the floor. “Am I to assume that this woman caused some type of disturbance here tonight and you were forced to incapacitate her?”
His eyes are encouraging me to go with the story, and I wonder if he knows who Evelyn is. “Yes,” I say, “that’s exactly what happened.”
Stroking a finger over his mustache, he nods. “Very well then. I’ll take her in and get her out of your hair.” He peers around me. “Is he okay?”
I glance back at Luke, who hasn’t moved. He doesn’t even look like he’s listening to the conversation. “He’ll be fine. I’ll stay with him.”
He nods in dismissal, walks over, scoops up Evelyn, and leaves.
Grabbing Luke by the shoulder, I give him a shake. When that doesn’t elicit a response, I sink down onto my knees and look up at him. I rub my hands up and down his thighs in what I hope is a comforting gesture.
“Luke,” I say, trying to penetrate the fog around him. I’d done it once before, I can do it again.
I lay one hand on either side of his face, his stubble pricking against my palms. “Hey, do I have to go get you a milkshake and aspirin so you can throw them against the wall again?”
Finally, a flicker. One corner of his mouth twitches and his eyes shift down to mine. I see Cash’s loss in them all over again. This time it’s a freight train that hits me in the chest. I can’t breathe when he’s looking at me like that.
Stills of that night flash behind my eyes, and I have to close them to will them away. I clench my jaw, hard, and swallow through the pain. My pain isn’t important at the moment.
He’s watching me with an unreadable expression, and I try not to flinch when his fingers trail up my arm until his hand is resting on top of mine. “You’re always here to save me.”
I give him a wry grin. “Someone has to.”
His stubble scratches against my skin as he shakes his head. Then he turns his head and kisses me on the palm of my hand, and I feel it everywhere. “Were you kidding about the aspirin, or do you actually have some?” he asks, his words muffled in my hand.
“What?” My thoughts are scattered to the wind, and it takes a moment to gather them again. “Oh, right. Yeah, I have some in my purse.”
I tug my hand away from him and stumble over to my purse. My heart is pounding so hard that I can hear it in my ears. I’m searching through my purse when the door opens, the small silver bell chiming to announce the newcomer. Haley comes flying through it, throwing herself into Luke’s lap. She squeezes him in a hug, holding his face the way I had just done. “Are you okay?”
For the moment it’s like I don’t even exist, and it’s just the two of them in the room. He closes his eyes, and leans his forehead against hers. She kisses the side of his neck, running her fingernails through the hair at the back of his head.
She still hasn’t noticed that I’m here, which is probably the only lucky break I’ve had lately. So with a knife stuck deeply in my heart, I pick up my p
urse, slink backward, and slip out the back door.
Chapter 39
Luke
“Wow. I mean, I always knew Blaire was rich, but this is just…”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” I say to Haley, linking my fingers through hers as we stand in the foyer. “I nearly shit myself the first time I was here.”
“You’ve been here before?” she asks.
“Just once, for one of their parties.” I glaze over the fact that I was here as Sloane’s date. I’m hoping to have a good time, not start another fight. I find as long as I don’t see, think, or speak about Sloane, we don’t fight at all.
Haley glances down at her dress. “I think I might be underdressed.”
I step back, not letting go of her hand, so I can look her over. Of course, even if I did think she was underdressed, I wouldn’t say so, but I make a good show of it. Her dress is a pale pink, which matches the color in her cheeks, and the skirt of the dress is made out of that tutu fabric. The top part of it is sleeveless and has little fabric roses stuck to it. Personally I would have preferred a little more cleavage and a little less fabric to show off her incredible body, but she still looks lovely. Her hair is pulled back and stuck in place with a thousand bobby pins, but a few strands here and there hang loose.
I plant a kiss on the top of her head. “You look beautiful.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she says, tugging on one of my lapels. She kisses me and tastes like her cherry lip gloss.
The butler returns with Blaire trailing behind him. She grasps her skirt in one hand so that she can hurry down the stairs. She looks stunning. She’s got this white gauzy dress on that floats around her, giving you impressions of her legs without really letting you see them. The entire top is embroidered with thousands of sparkling crystals, and her ears have matching crystals that nearly blind me when they catch the light.