Stirring Up Trouble

by Kimberly Kincaid

  “No.” Bree’s forehead creased with lines way too worried for her thirteen-year-old face.

  Sloane gentled her voice until it was one notch above a whisper. “Can I ask why not?”

  “Because,” Bree said, but then jerked to a halt. “Just because.”

  “He would understand, Bree. And he really wants to help you.” Despite her efforts to stay calm, tears pricked Sloane’s eyes, threatening to spill. Bree looked up at her, and the girl’s stony façade crumbled.

  “I know, but he’s sad too. And it’s not . . . fair. He quit his job to take me, and he works a lot so we can have the stuff we need. I used to hate him for that, before, because I felt like he left me and my mom behind. But now I don’t want to tell him because I know he misses her, too. And he’s already sad about giving up his life.”

  For a second, Sloane was so stunned, she couldn’t breathe. “Oh, Bree. Don’t you see? Honey, you are his life.” She moved to take the bowl from Bree’s shaking hands and set it on the counter. “Yes, he loves his career, but he loves you so much more. And even though he misses your mom, he wants to help you when you do, too. If you two talk about it, it might make it easier on both of you.”

  “I never thought about it like that,” Bree whispered, tears streaking her delicately freckled cheeks. “I mean, he said I could talk to him if I felt like it. But I didn’t think maybe he’d want to.”

  Sloane’s words spilled right from her very center. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t the truth. You can still talk to your mom or write her letters when you’re feeling sad, but don’t shut Gavin out. He needs you, too.”

  Bree wiped her face with the back of one hand. “Thanks. For understanding, and . . . well, everything.”

  “Anytime.” Sloane reached out to capture the tears on Bree’s other cheek with her thumb, surprised at how natural the comforting movement felt. She folded her into a quick embrace, which Bree readily returned. “I’ve got your back, kid.”

  “Promise?”

  Sloane pulled back, but only so she could look Bree right in the eye. “I promise.”

  “Okay.” Bree nodded.

  Sloane broke into a slow smile, one that migrated all the way down to her heart and filled her completely. “Now what do you say we get back to it? These eggs aren’t going to smash themselves.”

  They spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon puttering around the cottage, painting their toenails outrageous colors, and watching various shows on TV. When Bree settled in to start on her weekend homework, Sloane took advantage of the break and finally powered up her laptop.

  Dear Belinda,

  I got your message, and I’m glad everyone’s so enthusiastic about my writing. I’d like to talk to you about the direction of the project, but I think it would be best if we discussed it by phone. Can you call me at your earliest convenience? I’ll have a proposal for you ASAP.

  Thanks,

  Sloane

  Hitting send was shockingly easier than she’d expected, and relief filled Sloane’s chest as she stared at the flashing message telling her it had been delivered. The book she’d tried so hard to fight was fresh and dynamic, and it was time to put her faith in it.

  It was time to put her faith in herself.

  Her fingers flew over the keyboard, forming the proposal she’d promised Belinda with ease. She described the story with rich details and poignant touches, losing herself in every layer until it burst with emotion, both in her mind and on the page. For the first time ever, what was around her didn’t matter nearly as much as what was inside of her, and as she laid the story out like a tapestry, Sloane believed in it.

  The sound of a voice being cleared snagged her from her thoughts, and although Sloane had been certain she’d only been on the couch for a few minutes, she was startled to see that the graying shadows of evening had been replaced by nightfall.

  “Oh, jeez! I didn’t realize it was so late.” She blinked up at Bree, her eyes slowly adjusting from the glare of the computer screen to the soft lamplight of the cottage. “How did your homework go?”

  “Fine.” Bree shrugged, shifting her weight on the floorboards, and a pang of remorse worked through Sloane’s belly.

  “Sorry I didn’t check on you sooner. I guess this book thing kind of got away from me. But I can read that Macbeth assignment over if you want.” Damn it, she should’ve kept a better eye on the time. Bree had been struggling a little with the latest round of essays, and her bone-deep desire for independence could make asking for help a little dicey, even on their good days. “Here, I’ll just take a quick look.”

  “No! I don’t need any help. I just wanted to tell you I’m going to my room. You don’t need to check on me.”

  Whoa. Speaking of preteen pride. Sloane tucked her surprise into a bittersweet smile. She might be an old geezer as far as Bree was concerned, but it hadn’t been that long since Sloane’s teen years. And if anyone understood the need for independence, it was certainly her. Still, the guilt kicking up in her chest refused to back all the way down.

  “Tell you what,” she said, sliding her laptop to the coffee table. “My Macbeth is pretty rusty. Maybe if you let me read it, I’ll learn something new. Then when we’re done, we can see what looks good in the Netflix queue. What do you say?”

  For a second, Bree went wide-eyed and completely still. But then she threaded her arms into a tight knot over the chest of her thermal pajama top, and Sloane knew she’d lost this round of homework wars squarely to Team Hormones.

  “I already printed the essay, so no big deal. I’m going to go work on the final write-up for my biology lab.”

  Sloane laughed in a last-ditch effort to smooth over Bree’s crabby mood. “On a Saturday night?”

  Bree responded with a blush and scowl combo that was probably visible from the moon before giving an exasperated sigh. “It’s due on Tuesday. Plus, I’m supposed to call Lucas so I can get the rest of his notes and stuff for the PowerPoint slides.”

  Ahhh. Well at least her mood made sense now. And so did her bid for privacy. Sloane bit her lip and tried to decide how to proceed. Gavin would probably have a kitten at the whole boys-on-the-phone thing, but really, Bree seemed edgy enough about it without Sloane giving her a hard time.

  Still, something about the hard flash in Bree’s eyes made Sloane pause. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Fine,” Bree said, with enough frost to make it sound like the other f-word. “Can I go now? Please?”

  Even though Sloane’s radar was on full alert, she knew that pushing Bree was only going to get her pushed back. “Sure,” she said slowly. “We can do the Shakespeare thing tomorrow. Just let me know if you need anything.”

  “Yeah. Whatever.”

  The shock of Bree’s words knocked Sloane for a loop, and by the time the retort registered, Bree had beat a hasty retreat to her room.

  She popped up from the couch with every intention of calling Bree back to take her to task, but the spurt of irritation flickered hard in her chest, and she froze to the floorboards. They’d spent an awful lot of time together over the last couple of days, and Bree’s adolescent emotions had more hairpin turns than the freaking Grand Prix. While Sloane wasn’t nuts about the eye-rolling attitude, it was pretty common fare for the broody moody set. Bree probably just needed a break to hang out with someone else. The last thing she wanted to do was breathe down the kid’s neck. Hell, even the most even-keeled thirteen-year-old would get testy at that.

  And anyway, it would probably be long forgotten by morning.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Gavin shook the late-February chill from his coat as he slipped his key in the lock and crossed the threshold into the warmth of the cottage. The sight of Sloane, curled up in a blanket by the fireplace with her fingers going a mile a minute on her laptop, sent a shot of heat through him that had nothing to do with escaping the elements. Man, she was sweet to come home to.

  He wanted to come home to her e
very night, exactly like this, just so they could fall asleep together and wake up to do it all over again.

  For the rest of their lives.

  “Oh, hey. You’re home early.” A grin broke over Sloane’s face as she unfolded into a stretch against the couch cushions, and no way was he passing up that hot glimpse of skin peeking out from the hem of her shirt.

  “I’m home early,” he agreed, but his mouth was already on her, testing the column of her neck as he pulled her close. Christ, nothing had ever tasted so pure and right and downright good as this woman.

  She let out a melted-butter laugh and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her body fitting against his in a way that had them halfway to the bedroom in his brain. “That’s not like you, Mr. Responsibility. Are you sure the restaurant didn’t burn down or something?”

  He slid his tongue over the delicate vein in her neck, just to feel her pulse jump. “No.”

  “Mmm. And Carly didn’t fire you?” Her teasing lost its edge as he worked his way to the curve of her ear, the bold push of satisfaction and want combining low in his belly as she ended her question on a sigh.

  “No.” Gavin lifted his head, placing his mouth just inches from hers. “I just left early.”

  “That’s awfully impulsive for someone so serious,” Sloane said, making it sound every inch a compliment.

  He kissed her with just enough pressure to make it a promise of things to come. “What can I say? I learned from the best.”

  “Are you trying to woo me with flattery?” Leave it to Sloane to make a decent vocabulary sound sexy as hell. He unwound an arm from her waist and pulled back to pin her with a serious stare.

  “Absolutely. Is it working?”

  She arched a brow, but her smile gave her away. “Absolutely. Too bad for you, I can’t stay.”

  “You can’t?” Gavin froze. Maybe he shouldn’t have come on so strong right out of the gate like that, especially after how intense things had been last night. Then again, this was a woman who wanted to go to the South Pacific sans apparel, for God’s sake. As much as she liked her independence, it wasn’t like a little reckless emotion should really scare her.

  Which was good, considering he was pretty much overflowing with it.

  Sloane shook her head, dark hair tumbling as she took a step back toward the couch. “Despite how much I want to stick around and let you flatter me ’til the sun comes up, I think I might’ve worn out my welcome with your sister. It might be best if I leave you guys alone for a night.”

  “Wait, you mean with Bree? Are you serious?” No way could he have heard her right. Bree was nuts about Sloane, right down to her crazy purple boots.

  But Sloane’s expression was strangely devoid of her trademark laughter as she closed her laptop and slipped it into her bag. “’Fraid so. She was in a hell of a mood before she went to bed. I went to check on her a little while ago, but her door was locked and her light was out.” She paused, her blue eyes flicking over him carefully before adding, “She might just need someone to talk to. After all, she’s had kind of an emotional weekend with that nightmare and everything.”

  Gavin’s memory stuttered back a few hours, snagging hard. “She texted me earlier.”

  “She did?” Sloane’s lips parted in surprise. Clearly, it was news to her.

  “Yeah, but . . .” He unearthed his phone from his back pocket, tapping the touch screen to life to pull up the message. “It was really vague, see? To be honest, I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, I knew if she really needed anything, she’d ask you.”

  Sloane leaned in, reading the message over his shoulder while he reread the scant line of text from the screen.

  Something 2 ask u about. Maybe 2nite at home?

  Don’t need 2 call, no big.

  “Did you talk to her after this?” Sloane asked, her pretty face shadowed in thought.

  “No. We were slammed, and by the time I got it, I was already halfway out the door. Plus, she said it wasn’t a big deal. She didn’t say anything about this to you?” Concern filtered into out-and-out worry, percolating like day-old diner coffee in his gut.

  “No, but . . .” Sloane broke off with a blink. “I did tell her this morning that she could talk to you no matter what, even if it was about the hard stuff like missing your mom. Maybe she’s ready to open up and just doesn’t know how to say it.”

  Gavin’s worry became something else entirely, and his breath left him in a rush of surprise. “She talked to you about our mom?”

  “A little, but I think she’s still got a lot inside of her.” She brushed her fingers over his forearm, and the gentle squeeze was all he needed to let loose the emotions crowding his brain.

  “I’m scared to push her. God, she seems so fragile sometimes, and all I want to do is keep her safe.” The words stuck in his throat like sand on wet skin, but he’d shoved them down long enough. And baring them to Sloane just felt right.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” she said. “She’s been through a lot.”

  Gavin let out a shaky breath. “I know. Sometimes talking to her feels like navigating a minefield. If I leave it alone, there’s always the potential for danger later, but if I bug her, she might blow up in my face. I can’t win.”

  “Maybe you should just ask her about it. She can’t really blow up at you for being concerned about her.”

  He coughed out a humorless laugh. “This is Bree we’re talking about here. I love her, but she’s not exactly a paragon of logical thinking, especially when it comes to anything emotional. I have no idea how to get her to open up without pissing her off, or worse, having her shut me out. Sometimes I wonder how the hell my mother thought I’d be any good at this,” he admitted. “Every time I think I’ve made progress with Bree, something pops up to show me I’m completely full of shit.”

  “You’re not full of shit just because you want to protect her, Gavin.” Sloane’s eyes sparked with dark blue conviction, fierce in the low light from the fireplace. “And you’re allowed to grieve, too. It’s okay for her to see that.”

  “What if it makes her worse? The nightmares are already pretty horrific. You saw for yourself.” No matter what, he couldn’t put Bree through more of that. No way.

  Sloane stepped in, her gaze unrelenting on his. “And what if it gives her permission to start letting it go?”

  For a split second, Gavin couldn’t breathe. Oh, hell. Hell.

  It made all the sense in the world. He’d tried to protect Bree for all the right reasons, but really, what she needed was to know how he felt, to see that he grieved and felt sad sometimes, and know that finding moments of new happiness didn’t mean trading in the old ones.

  And he needed to show her that. Starting with his own feelings.

  “I don’t know what to say to her,” he finally managed, but Sloane just shook her head.

  “You don’t have to know what to say. Just tell her how you feel. The rest will come.” She leaned in to place a kiss on his lips, soft and quick.

  Gavin cupped her cheeks, returning the kiss just as sweetly before taking a step back. “How do you always know what to do?”

  Her smile threaded through every last part of him as she said, “Just doing my job, boss. Now go talk to that kid. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Gavin stood on the threshold of Bree’s door with one hand on the cool wood panel and his heart in his throat. It was now or never, and really, all the preparation in the world wouldn’t make a damned bit of difference. She’d reached out to him the only way she knew how, and it was up to him to catch her.

  “Bree?” He knocked softly and scraped in a deep breath. “You awake?”

  A muffled thump sounded off on the other side of the door, and he heard the metallic click of the lock being released. She swung the door open just a crack, barely enough to send a wary peek out into the hallway. “Is Sloane still here?”

  “No, she decided to go back to her place tonight.” Damn it, maybe he should’ve
asked her to stay, just in case it made Bree feel more comfortable. “She, ah, said you seemed a little upset about something, though. You want to talk about it?”

  Bree’s eyes widened, and Gavin realized with a pang that she’d been crying. “She said that?”

  Man, he didn’t want to put her on the spot, but they weren’t going to get very far by skirting the subject. “Yeah. She thought you might be feeling a little out of sorts, and was worried about you.”

  But then her mouth snapped into a scowl, and she said with a shrug, “Whatever.”

  Something strange tickled at the back of Gavin’s mind, but he pushed it aside. He couldn’t shy away from this conversation now. Not when Bree needed him.

  “So, can I come in?” He softened his voice a notch and just told the truth. “Because I’m worried about you, too.”

  Bree dropped her chin into her thermal pajama top, but thankfully, she didn’t rebuff him. “Okay.” She sat down on her rumpled bed and hugged her flannel-clad legs to her chest, silently staring at her toes.

  Right. Clearly Sloane had underestimated the awkward factor of this whole thing when she’d assured him he’d know what to say. He sat on the edge of the bed and opened his mouth before he lost his nerve. “Listen, I know that sometimes—”

  “Are you in love with Sloane?”

  The question startled him into complete freeze. “What?”

  “I don’t mean to be nosy. I just . . . I need to know.” Bree’s voice wavered, and the emotion infusing her words did nothing to help him focus.

  “I don’t understand. Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” Gavin’s brain scrambled to play catch-up, but it was completely useless. If anything, he’d thought Bree would be thrilled about the idea of him and Sloane getting serious. So why was she looking at him with so much trepidation?

  “Yeah. I need to know if you want her to stay. Like forever.”