“It was late. We were out too late. It was dark because it was late,” she explained. Her knife dropped from her shaking hand to the cutting board, flinging vegetable bits in the process. “Oh geez, Coop. I haven’t told anybody this out loud in forever.”
“It’s okay. Keep telling it only if you want to.”
She stirred the contents in the pan then stopped. But her hands were still in motion, trembling. “Aaron was my best friend since he moved to my street in the sixth grade.”
“You were neighbors.”
“Four houses down and across the street.” She added some chopped carrot slivers to the pot. “We were at a party for one of our friends who was about to ship off to the navy. Aaron was going to run track for a small college in Illinois where his dad went. I was trying to get into Wheaton even though I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.” She started to laugh but bit it back.
Was she supposed to laugh when she was telling Aaron’s story?
“There was this back road that cut around town along the river. We used to take it because the speed limit was fifty and the cops avoided it.” Sloane fished the cooked chicken from the pot to set it on the cutting board. “I was driving because Aaron didn’t want to drive my parents’ car. He didn’t trust himself late at night anyway—the guy could fall asleep anywhere, I’m telling you.”
Cooper smiled. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. He fell asleep on a roller coaster ride after a school dance one time.” The muscles around her mouth tightened as she replayed that night in her head.
“That’s pretty bad.”
“It started raining, and it hadn’t rained in a while, so the oils in the road made it extra slick.” She thought that was how her dad had explained it to her anyway.
“I tapped the brake to slow down, and all of the sudden, we were spinning.”
Her concentration on the chicken she was shredding broke when she noticed Cooper sliding off the stool.
“I blacked out when we hit the tree. When I woke up, my leg was broken and Aaron was holding my hand. Scared for me, but trying to keep me calm.”
Cooper crept closer as she added the chicken to the pot and cranked up the heat so everything could simmer together. She wrung her hands, searching for something to occupy them. A rag.
“Then the car caught on fire, and he pulled me out the sunroof—he was so quick on his feet like that. And when the rescue workers finally got there and put me in the back of the ambulance, I wouldn’t let go of him. Somehow I knew. Even though all he had was a headache and a bloody nose, I knew things weren’t going to be okay. Things were never going to be okay.” Her voice broke, and Cooper took the cloth from her hands.
“Aaron’s parents adopted him. They chose him. What they had was so amazing. And I took it from them.”
Cooper wrapped his arms around her, holding her together before her pieces could fall apart.
“It’s my fault they don’t have a son anymore, Cooper,” she whispered into his shirt. “My fault they’re alone.”
He leaned back, putting space between them. “No, Sloane.” He framed her face in his hands, his penetrating gaze holding her. “You didn’t kill Aaron. It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone.”
For some reason, when Cooper said it, his tenderness and conviction made Sloane want to believe it.
“But I wasn’t sixteen yet!” She broke from his grip and stumbled backward as the confession spilled out of her. “I didn’t have a driver’s license. We took my parents’ car when they were out of town. It was so stupid—we never did stuff like that—and the one time we did, Aaron paid for it with his life.” Her back hit something solid, and she slid to the floor, her body physically unable to stand anymore.
It was like she was having an out-of-body experience until her senses snapped to the forefront and she felt her tears, felt Cooper’s embrace.
“If I had waited until I was sixteen—”
“Your car would have spun if you were sixteen or sixty.” Cooper said firmly. “The rain doesn’t discriminate.”
She nodded, looking past him, because it was what she was supposed to do. And when he stood, she allowed him to help her up and leaned into him. He led her to the table by the door and served up the soup she’d made with some cheddar biscuits.
“Aaron’s mom used to make this when he didn’t feel well,” Sloane repeated, the emotion drained from her. “It was his favorite.”
Cooper blew on a spoonful and slurped it up. “I’d imagine it made him feel better every time. It’s perfect, Sloane.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you want to tell me about him? What he was like?”
She’d balked at similar questions from countless trained mental health professionals. But there in the intimacy of Simone’s dimmed lighting with Aaron’s favorite meal warm in her stomach, she told Cooper everything.
And it was like she’d been washed clean.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BY THE TIME Cooper dropped Sloane off at her apartment, he was ready to crash—and not just because of the late nights he’d been pulling at work. He was emotionally spent after hearing Sloane’s story and helping her carry the weight of her grief. And once he was rested, he could think about how everything had changed between them.
Now that she wasn’t carrying the weight of her past alone, he expected she’d be different with him. He’d been there once and knew what that kind of trauma did to a person. But tonight he’d gotten a glimpse of the real Sloane he’d only seen hints of before—and she was more brilliant and beautiful than he ever could have imagined.
As he steered into the parking spot behind his brownstone, gathered his things and started up the stone path to his back door, he replayed the way Sloane had given him a tentative hug.
“Good night, Cooper,” she’d said into his jacket with a little laugh that echoed his own surprise. Relieved, unapologetic, adorable. He’d underestimated Sloane ever since he met her. But he’d also underestimated himself, what it would do to him when he found his answers.
In the deepest parts of him, he wanted things he couldn’t allow himself to want with her. Not when he came with a detonator, wrapped in a shiny glass bottle.
Cooper slipped his key into the lock and it turned with no resistance. Could Jake have come home from his work trip early? No, he’d texted Cooper hours before that he would be gone through the week.
Had Cooper forgotten to lock up? Surely he hadn’t. He inched the door open.
No Maddie. Weird. Normally she was bouncing at the door when he came in.
The hair rose on the back of his neck. He held his breath to listen for sounds and heard a muffled voice coming from upstairs. Something was definitely off.
He slipped inside and stepped to his office, tiptoeing over the creaky floorboards. The panel in his right desk drawer slid away easily, revealing a metal surface with a rubber keypad. He punched in the combination and opened the door.
Please let Maddie be safe.
The revolver was cool and light in his hands as he loaded it and double-checked the safety. He’d never used it outside of the gun range, and he didn’t plan to now unless it was clearly the only option.
Cooper clutched the grip with his right hand, his left positioned to stabilize. He held the gun tilted toward the ceiling, and glanced up the steps. His pulse pounded in his ears. A thin strip of light glowed from beneath the door to the vacant bedroom.
A crash came from within the room. A heavy shuffle of footsteps sounded. And then a familiar voice.
“Maddie, go away. You don’t get any.”
Cooper popped the gun’s safety into place then raced up the stairs two and three at a time, his blood boiling.
“Owen.” He whipped open the door.
His brother was slou
ched in the desk chair, half-empty Tupperware in his lap, forkful of leftover pork tenderloin halfway to his mouth. The leftover pork tenderloin Cooper had planned to eat that night. Maddie sat at his feet in begging position, her head turned in her master’s direction, ears flat as if she thought she were the one in trouble.
“Where do you come off breaking into my house? Eating my dinner?”
“Whoa, Cooper. What’s your problem? Simmer down or you’re going to sprain something.” He shoveled the fork into his mouth, and Maddie’s head snapped toward him.
Cooper slouched against the bed. “You gotta let me know when you’re coming over.” He unloaded the cylinder of his gun.
“You were going to shoot me?” Owen swore.
“Don’t tempt me.” Cooper put the cylinder on the bed with a half grin. “Why don’t you tell me what made you finally want to come here?”
Owen retrieved a bottle of beer from the floor next to him and took a swig. The smell of it made Cooper’s mouth water. The sound of the liquid sliding down the glass neck of the bottle drove him to bite down on his cheeks hard.
“You start by explaining what that was all about at the office. Why the rest of us have you to thank that Dad’s now on the warpath.”
Warpath?
“Sales numbers have dropped since you hit the ground running with this restaurant, Coop.” Owen shrugged.
“Not anymore. Tell him to check again. I’ve been working double time to stay on track.”
“It wouldn’t matter anyway.” Owen sat up straighter. “It’s not you he’s after. He has it in his head that blogger is going to bring down our whole family. He thinks she’s hiding something.”
“No. Absolutely not. He’s not going anywhere near Sloane.”
“Of course he’s not.” Owen’s lips curled. “Like Dad would actually do his own dirty work. He’ll leave that to someone else.”
Cooper had never wanted to level the smirk from his brother’s face more. With the amount of hot energy coiled in his veins, he could do it in one punch. But that wouldn’t help Sloane. “Please, Owen,” he said. “Just listen to me. Dad doesn’t know what’s going on with Sloane. You have to convince him she’s harmless.”
“Why don’t you tell me and let me be the judge?”
Cooper looked away. “I can’t do that.”
“C’mon, Coop.” Owen put the food container on the floor next to Maddie and stood. “You just started working with this girl. She could be anyone.”
“And he really thinks she could do worse after all the bad press we’ve gotten?”
Owen raised an eyebrow. “All the bad press we’ve gotten? He’s not worried about us—he’s worried about you.”
“Just drop it, Owen. Seriously.”
“You don’t make it easy to be your brother, you know.” Owen crossed his arms. “Do you think I like being stuck between you and Dad? It’s hard enough working for the man.”
“Then don’t. You could do your own thing anytime. You should try it. It’s nice.”
Owen’s jaw knotted. He would never leave the company. Not if it meant giving up his luxuries. “So that’s how it’s going to be, then? You’re siding with some girl over your own family.”
“What family?” Cooper stood to face his brother. “Ever since Jordan died, we haven’t been a—”
“Don’t bring Jordan into this.” Owen’s voice wavered. He blinked hard and shouldered past Cooper, stopping at the top of the stairs. “And don’t act like going off to Paris really qualifies as doing your own thing. Dad saw what you were doing to yourself then and he sees what you’re doing to yourself now.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Cooper flinched. Owen was a practiced marksman with verbal bullets—a trait he’d inherited from their father.
“He made you leave because he thought you were going to get yourself killed. And he’ll do whatever it takes to stop you from self-destructing again.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“WHAT DO YOU think of a Korean barbecue slider?” Grace, dressed in one of her husband’s oversize T-shirts, jumped right to the point the minute she appeared on the computer screen.
Sloane snorted. “This is what your nine-one-one text was about? At midnight my time?”
Grace looked up from the slab of beef that was the victim of some intense knife work. “Well, yeah. I saw you were online.” Obviously, recipe writer’s block classified as an emergency to Sloane’s odd duck of a friend. “I’m thinking the usual—soy sauce, sesame oil, garlic, a kiss of brown sugar. What do you think?”
She closed her eyes, allowing herself to visualize the flavors together. But before she could respond, the screen split.
“There you are, Levi,” Grace said. “What do you think of a Korean barbecue slider?”
“What about it?” Levi drawled in his heavy Southern accent.
“Is it something a dude would eat?”
“If it has meat in it, the answer is always yes. I don’t know why you have to get all fancy calling it a slider, though.”
Sloane chuckled. “If it sounds good to Grace, it sounds good to me.” Sometimes Levi was a little too argumentative.
“But why can’t you just call it a burger?” He clearly wasn’t going to back off.
“Because it’s smaller than a burger.”
“But are they overdone?” Grace asked. “Is everyone doing them right now?”
Sloane shook her head and repositioned to lean into her left leg until she felt a stretch in her hamstring. “Maybe a few years ago, but now I don’t think so.” That’s it. Right there. Feels good. “But you should definitely make your own bun.”
“Ooh, something steamed like a Vietnamese pork bun.”
“Go with it.”
“As much as I love listening to you two talk about food all day...”
Grace ignored him. “And I’m feeling some kind of slaw with lime and ginger and carrots.” She slid her glasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose and scribbled in her notebook.
“Yes. With scallions.” Sloane straightened. The exaggerated boredom in their web designer’s features pulled a sharp laugh from her. “You know you love us, Levi.”
“That’s debatable.”
At the sound of her laughter, Grace’s head snapped toward her screen. Then she gasped. “Oh, no, Sloane.” She clapped a hand to her chest. “I’m the worst friend in the whole world.”
“What?”
“Here I am, going on and on about Korean barbecue like an idiot. And I haven’t asked about Davon. How’s he doing?”
Sloane smiled at the mention of him. “He’s doing great. He’s recovering really well from his surgery and went home yesterday. Cooper said you wouldn’t know anything happened to him except for the broken arm.”
“Cooper, huh?”
Stupid. Stupid. Change the subject. “Yeah, we’re, um, I’m supposed to go see him tomorrow once they’re all settled in at home.”
“I’m so glad he’s okay, Sloane,” Grace said. “And I’m glad you’re okay. You look really good. Doesn’t she look great, Levi?”
He shrugged, looking up from what he’d been otherwise occupied with. “I guess.”
“Maybe it’s all the time you’ve been spending with Cooper.” Grace looked like a fox ready to pounce through the screen.
“Can we talk about this later, Grace?”
“Ooh! What’s there to talk about?”
“Yeah, Sloane,” Levi chimed in with artificial enthusiasm. “What’s there to talk about?”
They were making a huge deal out of nothing, all talking over each other. But if it was nothing, then she should just say so, right?
“Okay, I told him!” She folded. Relief washed the tension from her shoulders as so
on as the words left her mouth.
“What?”
“I told him everything. It just sort of happened.”
“Wow.” Grace’s smile seemed smug.
“I know.”
Levi sat in silence, lips pressed together, shaking his head.
“Okay, you can stop with the judgment, Levi.”
“I can’t believe you’d tell him. Have you not learned anything from what you read?”
“She’s not stupid,” Grace interjected. “If she thinks she can trust him, she can trust him.”
“Whatever, y’all. I’m out. Enjoy your sliders, Grace.” His hand made a dramatic arc to the keyboard as he closed the conversation screen. And he was gone.
Grace rolled her eyes. “So he finally got it out of you.”
“He did.”
“And how did he react?” Grace disappeared behind her island then returned with a spray bottle in hand. Her personal world record for sitting still remained unbroken.
How did Cooper react? Sloane sighed. “He was wonderful, Grace. He’s been through some stuff in his own life and talked about dealing with grief.”
“Yeah?”
“He made me think of things—about grief and guilt and all that—in a new way. And you know how I’ve gone through the accident a million times from every angle.”
Grace paused, slapping her damp kitchen towel on the island. “Right. Good for you, then. I’m proud. Talking this out is good for you.”
“I feel...different now that he knows. Now that I’ve told someone besides you guys and really talked about it. I told Cooper more about Aaron than I’ve told anyone—maybe even you. I don’t know why, but he somehow turned off my overthinking switch or something. It’s weird.”
“So, what’s going to happen between you two?” Grace was back in front of the computer screen. “How is this going to affect things?”
“Oh, it’s nothing like that. We—”
Speaking of. Sloane’s phone vibrated against the kitchen counter, flashing Cooper’s name. She sent the call to voice mail. “We’re friends now, I guess.”
“Just friends, huh?” Grace beamed a megawatt grin that was impossible not to return.
With No Reservations Page 14
