by Kim Loraine
“Knock, knock.” Meg’s bright voice floated into Sloan’s empty classroom.
“Hey, Meg. Ready to end this week better than it began?”
Meg laughed. “If better means not having a kid go apeshit on me and try to stab me with a pencil . . . yeah.”
“What did his parents say when you talked to them?”
“Nothing much. Just mentioned he’d been having a hard time lately and they’d talk to him.”
Sloan logged on to her computer and opened her attendance roster. “We still on for drinks after work?”
“Hell, yes. I can’t wait. You okay with somewhere different? Pete’s is getting old.”
“Sure. Just give me the address so I can get a cab.”
Meg nodded. “I’ll text it to you.”
Excited chatter filled the halls, signaling the arrival of students and the beginning of the school day. “To the trenches,” Sloan teased.
Her friend left, chuckling as she exited.
The day went by quickly. And before Sloan knew it, they’d made it through lunch and music class. With only an hour left until dismissal, she let the kids settle in for a story, and planned to give them free time as a reward for good behavior.
“Okay, everyone. Come on over and join me on the carpet. We’re going to pick up where we left off on Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing.”
As the children took their places, chattering and giggling, she waited for them to quiet and opened the book.
“When we left off, Fudge was just about—” The shrill blare of the fire alarm pierced the quiet room and sent a tendril of panic through her.
Twenty-four pairs of wide eyes found her and with a level of calm she didn’t truly feel, she stood. “Line up. Just like we practiced.” She grabbed the emergency bag off the hook near the door, she led her students out the evacuation route and into the parking lot. It was textbook, except there wasn’t a scheduled fire drill today.
Heart hammering with adrenaline, she watched as the other classes all filled the lot and her head turned just like the students’ did when the wail of sirens got closer.
“What’s going on?” she asked the petite blond teacher standing next to her.
Valerie shrugged and frowned as she surveyed the school. “Not sure. I don’t see smoke. Maybe someone pulled the alarm?”
The kids cheered as the big fire engine pulled up to the curb and three firefighters hopped down from the vehicle. Sloan’s heart caught in her throat when she read Sullivan on the back of one man’s jacket. Carson was here. In her periphery she saw Valerie offer a little wave to another firefighter.
“Is that your husband?” Sloan asked.
Valerie smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that one is mine.”
Sloan barely registered Valerie’s husband even though she’d asked the question. Carson’s gaze was pinned on her, his jaw set and eyes blazing. He looked . . . broken. He put on his helmet, he and his crew members spoke to the principal before heading inside. In just a few minutes the three men came back and the alarm had been silenced.
Valerie’s husband sauntered up to her with a smirk on his face. “Hey, sweetheart. They’re about to sound the all clear. Somebody pulled the alarm.” The line of kids behind Valerie went from calm to squirrelly as they got closer to the firefighter. He chuckled, eyes twinkling as he said, “I’d better go before they turn on you and make a break for the engine.”
She nodded. “I love you, hotshot.”
With a wink, he nodded back and headed to the truck.
Sloan watched Carson as he stared at them. “Is Carson always this surly?”
“No. He’s usually easygoing. I think you have quite the effect on him. Have you decided what to do about that yet?”
“It’s . . . complicated.”
Valerie laughed. “It’s always complicated until suddenly, that doesn’t matter anymore. Think about your life with him and your life without him. Which one feels right?”
Sloan’s stomach churned. “It’s not that easy.”
Her coworker didn’t answer as they began leading the students inside, but Sloan didn’t miss the look of sadness furrowing Valerie’s brow.
With a glance back at the engine, she let her gaze linger on Carson as long as possible. His blue eyes were trained on her, but the hard line of his mouth made her chest squeeze. He was done with her. But she wasn’t done with him.
~ ~ ~
“Let’s do shots!” Meg crowed as they walked in to The Golden Beach Bar and Grill.
Sloan glanced around at the dive bar, apprehension taking root in her chest. The place looked like it might fall over at any moment. The floor under her feet slanted at a suspicious angle and she was pretty sure the dark color of the walls wasn’t related to the paint choice, but from years of neglect.
“Are you sure it’s safe to be in here?”
Meg laughed. “This place has been here forever.”
“I know. That doesn’t necessarily mean it’s up to code.”
“Well, if a hurricane hasn’t knocked it down, and the fire they had a few years back didn’t close them, I think it’s probably safe.”
“There was a fire?”
Meg nodded and pointed toward the back of the bar. “In the kitchen. Panic Station was playing, Valerie got everyone out. It was a whole big thing.”
“She did? That’s . . . wow. She’s kind of a badass, isn’t she?” She couldn’t help but think of Carson helping save people, putting out the blaze, risking his life. She had to take a steadying breath. “Okay. If you say it’s safe, I believe you. Tequila?”
Meg’s answering grin lightened Sloan’s mood. “Definitely. Then margaritas and dancing.”
They were three shots deep when Beckett walked in with Valerie and a striking brunette. The three of them made their way across the floor and joined Sloan and Meg at their table.
Valerie introduced Sloan to her friend Lena with thoughtful details and Sloan’s stomach flipped at the mention of Lena’s husband, Michael Oliver. Yet another firefighter. Another connection to Carson.
“Michael’s going to be here soon. He and Alex were dropping the girls off with Grammy. I think Lauren and Chassity are coming, too,” Lena said across the table.
As though they’d been summoned, in walked the Oliver brothers and two lovely dark haired women who could have been twins. One of whom was the woman she’d seen at Pete’s wrapped around Carson like a boa constrictor. Another round of introductions had Sloan’s head swimming. She just wanted to let go of everything and enjoy herself. Unfortunately, Carson was present at every turn, even when he was nowhere to be found.
“Is Sully coming tonight?” Chassity asked. “I’m supposed to see him tomorrow, but if we’re all here, maybe he wants to move our lunch date to an overnighter.”
Nausea clutched at Sloan’s belly. He’d made a date? He could have at least made the effort to cut her loose first. Her skin turned clammy as her heart numbed.
“I need another drink,” she announced, pushing back her chair and standing.
Beckett was there, his hand on the small of her back while he walked her to the large wooden bar.
“You okay?”
She closed her eyes and took a breath. Of course, he’d heard Chassity. “I will be after I get drunk.”
He nodded and ordered two more shots, pushing them both at her when the bartender placed the drinks in front of them. She knocked them back in quick succession, then grimaced before taking Beckett by the hand.
She saw Livia and her friends standing in the corner, all perfectly coiffed and styled. Her former friend cocked an eyebrow and smirked before raising a glass in her direction. Then the woman said something to her group of clones and they all turned their eyes on Sloan. Instead of shrinking away from the at
tention, she looked Beckett straight in the eyes and said, “Come on. Let’s dance.”
As the tequila worked its way through her system, she thought less and less about the small town gossip, and focused on having a good time. But the room quickly grew too hot, Beckett’s hands sliding over her waist became stifling, and the floor tilted and swayed.
“I need some air.”
She bolted for the door, the cold night air hitting her overheated skin like a soothing balm. Taking great gasps, she leaned against the side of the building and let the weight of everything crash into her head-on. The ache in her chest intensified as she slid down the wall until her butt hit the gravel.
“Sloan? God, what’s going on?” Beckett’s concerned gaze found her burning eyes and all she saw in them was genuine worry. No agenda. No desire.
“You were right. He hurt me. God! How did I let this happen again?” Her words were slurred, but she couldn’t stop them. “The asshole. I’ll always think of the family we could have had. And I’ll always hate myself for not being strong enough to be the mother I was supposed to be.”
Hushed voices floated around them, but she didn’t pay them any attention. Through the fog of alcohol she tried to control herself, to keep everything inside, but it came out in the rush of a nearly incoherent confession. “Carson left me, pregnant, heartbroken, ruined. What else was I supposed to do? But, God, I wanted a life with him. I thought . . . I don’t know what I thought. And now? We have one date, I just asked to slow down, and he’s already going out with his fucking flavor of the week.”
Beckett’s hand stroked her hair softly as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Sloan.” He gripped her arm and cleared his throat, addressing the bystanders. “Excuse me, can we get a little privacy, please?”
The people moved away and Sloan let him help her to his car.
“I’ll get you home. You need to sleep this off.”
Her head was heavy as she nodded, a wave of nausea taking hold. She hiccupped before bending at the waist and vomiting all over the sidewalk.
Chapter 12
Sully tossed his bag in the back seat of his car after his shift was over. The morning sun bathed everything in a golden haze as he started his engine and pulled out of the parking lot. He hadn’t been able to keep his thoughts from drifting to Sloan standing outside the elementary school, her face a mask of confusion and disappointment. He had to see her. It had been painful to stay away. But he thought he was giving her what she needed.
He turned the car around, he headed toward her house, hoping he would find her awake and willing to let him grovel. He’d left her with barely any contact as he’d tried to sort his shit out, now he needed to show her why. He was going to let her take her time, let her see that they were meant to be together. As long as she promised him she’d really give it a shot. His heart thudded hard against his breastbone at the thought of seeing her again, of touching her, tasting her lips, and holding her in his arms. He shouldn’t have let her push him away in the first place. He’d taken the bait, given her what she thought she wanted, but really? He’d been too chickenshit to fight for them.
As he pulled into her driveway, his stomach knotted in anticipation. He ran a hand over his hair, which had grown longer than normal. The way she liked it. Taking a deep breath, he got out of the car and wiped his palms across his jeans. Fuck, he was nervous.
He murmured under his breath, practicing what he’d planned to tell her. “Sloan, I shouldn’t have ignored your messages. I’m sorry. I know you’re scared, but this thing between us is more than attraction. It’s fate. Give me a chance to show you we can have something real.”
He paced around his car, repeating the words a few more times before finally squaring his shoulders and walking toward her front door. God, his damned hands were shaking. He pushed the doorbell and waited, listening with his heart pounding as footsteps approached.
The door opened, and before he lost his nerve Sully began, “Sloan, I kn—”
“You’ve got a shitload of nerve coming here, Sully.” The deep timbre of a man’s voice cut through Sully.
Instead of a sleep-rumpled Sloan, Beckett stood in front of him, his hair tousled, clad only in a pair of jeans which looked like they’d just been pulled on. Sully’s heart broke at the sight. He’d been too late. Sloan had moved on and it was all his fault.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Sully bit out the words as anger took the place of heartbreak. It had only been a little over a week since their fight, but she’d let this guy worm his way in.
“How could you do that to her? Leave her like that?”
Beckett’s hands were balled into fists, his eyes blazing with defensive anger.
“I needed—” he began, but stopped himself. This wasn’t any of the asshole’s business. “No. This is between Sloan and me.”
Beckett blocked the doorway almost completely, but Sully didn’t miss the flash of blond tresses in the background. He shoved at Beckett’s shoulder, needing to see her, to look for some indication that she wasn’t done with them.
Beckett’s large palm pressed against the middle of Sully’s chest, a warning. The smaller man was no match for a firefighter, but Sully didn’t push. He was focused on Sloan, standing at the bottom of the stairs. Her bare legs peeked out from under the floral printed robe she wore. She was just as rumpled as he’d thought she’d be, but now the sight of her made his heart sink. With Beckett standing there like a protective boyfriend, her swollen lips, drowsy eyes, and the tangled mass of her hair all added up to freshly fucked rather than fresh from sleep.
“You were just waiting for the opportunity to swoop in and get her on her back, weren’t you, Beckett?” He spat the words as if they disgusted him. Hell, that’s exactly what they did. The thought of anyone else having her made him sick.
“You need to leave. You’ve done enough to her. I’m not going to let you hurt her anymore.”
A bitter laugh bubbled to the surface and Sully waved a hand. “You know what? You two enjoy yourselves. She’ll only leave you broken and bleeding like she did me. It’s what she does.”
“Carson—” she started. The hurt whisper of her voice cracked something inside him.
“What, Sloan? What else could you possibly want to say to me? You’ve made yourself clear. You want him. Fine. Message received.”
“You really are an asshole, aren’t you?” Beckett snarled, not smart enough to leave it alone.
“Stay the fuck out of this, man.”
“No. You knocked her up, left her, and then treat her like this? She didn’t do a damn thing wrong.”
She’d told him. Sloan had shared intimate details of their past with this guy. Sully couldn’t breathe. His lungs ached as he tried and failed to control the sense of anxiety clawing at him. At her gasp, he knew she realized what a low blow this was. He hadn’t left her. He’d loved her, wanted marriage, a life, and a family. She’d left him, and killed everything good about them.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sully’s voice was low and measured, not betraying the raging tidal wave of emotions barreling down on him.
“I know plenty. She deserves better than you. You’re not enough. You never will be.”
That was it. The tipping point. Sully slammed his knuckles into Beckett’s nose with a forceful, precise jab. Blood poured from the man’s face even as the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking blended with the blossoming pain in Sully’s hand.
“Oh, my God!” Sloan cried, rushing forward.
Sully turned to leave, shaking out his aching fingers, but a firm tug on his shirt had him returning his focus to the door. He was met with Beckett’s fist, a hard right hook straight on his jaw. A burst of white hot agony shot across his face and he staggered as the smaller man tackled him right there on th
e porch. He could hear Sloan’s shouts, was vaguely aware of her behind Beckett as he let the man land another blow, this time on the other side of Sully’s jaw. And then, as if in slow motion, he saw her close the distance and reach down to stop her boyfriend’s assault on him. His chest tightened as Beckett’s elbow connected with her cheek with so much force it knocked her on the ground. The world stood still as everything that had just happened came into focus for both men.
Beckett’s gaze darted to Sloan as Sully shoved him away. Both of them ran to where she sat, holding her cheek, tears in her eyes. She flinched away from their reaching hands, anger burning in her expression.
“Get the hell away from me. Both of you.”
“I’m sorry, Sloan. I didn’t mean—” Beckett stammered.
“I said. Get away from me.”
She stood, ran into the house, and slammed the door behind her.
~ ~ ~
“What the fuck happened to you, Sullivan?” Donovan’s amused laughter filled the station as Sully walked inside.
It had been two days since his fight with Beckett and his face had morphed from angry red marks and a split lip to the ugly yellow and purple of healing bruises. Unfortunately, he’d let the guy get in a few punches that were good enough to cause some real damage. That’s what he got for underestimating the teacher.
“What does it look like, Miller? Haven’t you ever seen someone after getting into a fight?”
“You’re not really a violent guy.”
He answered with a soft chuckle, Sully ran a hand over his jaw and winced when the cut on his cheek pulled and burned. “Not usually.”
“It’s Sloan, isn’t it?”
He sighed as he checked the schedule and headed into the kitchen in search of hot cocoa.
“Sullivan, I know what kind of damage a woman can do. You look like she chewed you up and spit your ass back out again. What’s going on?”