by Jamie Howard
“I’ll bet I can tell you three things about your girlfriend just from meeting her last night. I get four guesses in total, just to give me a little leeway. Though I really don’t think I’ll need the extra one.”
“Stakes?”
I run a finger over my lips. “Winner declares the forfeit.”
“Any forfeit?” He leans forward toward me, intent on my answer.
“Any forfeit,” I agree.
As Blaire drops off food at the table behind us, she tosses a curious glance in our direction. Luke throws her a smile and a wink. The spurt of rage takes me by surprise, and I quickly stuff it back down where it belongs. I remind myself that I don’t care that they’re friends, that it turned out that he ended up preferring the elder Avery sister. I managed to bury the hurt with distance, but it’s amazing how that little wink brought all of it back in an avalanche of pain.
He holds out his hand to me and I shake it. “Deal.”
Taking a fry from his plate, I nibble on it. “She’s still in college.”
“Lucky guess.” He takes another bite of omelet and grimaces, screwing up his face at his plate.
“Fine. I realize given her age it’s probably a fifty-fifty guess, so let me narrow it down. Let’s see.” I tap a finger against my lips. “She’s majoring in business.”
The look on his face is priceless. I wish I had my camera with me to capture it.
“She is,” he confirms. “But how—”
“You don’t expect me to give away all my secrets now, do you?” I snag the fork from between his fingers and help myself to a piece of his omelet. Blaire’s eyeing us down from behind the counter, not even bothering to disguise the fact that she’s watching us.
“Okay, what else?”
“Her favorite color is pink.”
His lips thin into a line. This is too easy.
“These things are so,” he waves his hand, “surface-level. If you want to win this bet, you have to give me something good. Something deeper.”
I point my finger at him. “That was not the bet, so don’t think you’re going to get out of it just because you’re losing. But fine.” I rest against my elbows and clasp my hands in front of me. I tap my pointer fingers together as my mind runs through the list of observations I gathered yesterday. “The first time you two had sex, you did it in the missionary position.”
“That’s—”
“In a bed.” I tilt my head toward the side, thinking. “On a Saturday.” I nod, sure that I’m right.
“What the fuck, Sloane? How could you possibly know that? Did Blaire tell you that?”
I laugh at his stunned expression. “Oh, yeah, let me tell you, Blaire tells me all your dirty secrets during our sleepovers.” I roll my eyes. “People are open books if you know what you’re looking for, and because I’m feeling so generous, I’ll explain to you how I came up with one of my answers.”
His breakfast now forgotten, he says, “How do you know it was a Saturday?”
“She’s in college, so she’s probably got classes Monday through Friday. You might go out on a date night on Friday, but with all the homework, studying, and maybe a night class, it seems less likely. Especially if it was going to be a big date. That would require more time, not just a quick dinner after work and class. Sunday’s an option, but she’s a good student, so she probably doesn’t stay Sunday nights at your place since she wants to get a good night’s sleep. Therefore, Saturday.” I give him a mock bow while I’m seated in the booth. “Oh, and for the record, I’ve now told you four things about her, because she is a responsible student, right?”
“Yes,” he grinds out. “So, what forfeit are you claiming?”
“Hmm…, I’m going to think on that and get back to you later.”
Sliding out of the booth, he stops me by saying, “Go place my actual order and bring me my damn breakfast.”
I give him a condescending glare. “Stop acting like you own the place.”
He threads his fingers behind his head and leans back, an indulgent smile spreading across his face. “I do own the place.”
“What?!” The words burst out before I can stop them, a tremor of anger quaking through me. I look at Gran and see the truth written there. With a practiced move, I banish the feeling and rearrange my face. “Well, since that’s the case, try adequately staffing your establishment.” I snap my fingers. “You know what, that’s my forfeit. You’re on your own the rest of the summer. I’m not covering for any more of your crappy employees. I’m done getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to save you.”
“Who said I ever wanted you to save me?” he shouts at my retreating back. I freeze and spin back around. All eyes are on us now as we face each other down.
Stalking across the room, I slam my hands down on the table and get so close to him I can see the tiny flecks of midnight blue around the outer edge of his irises. Unbidden, an image of those eyes smiling down into mine flashes across my brain in a painful stab. “Are you sure you really want to go there, Luke?”
He sucks in a breath and I lean a few inches closer. They may think they’re being sly, but I’m onto them. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work. Are you sure you want to play this game with me, Luke? Because let me be very clear about something: I play to win, and I don’t care what casualties I leave along the way.”
He swallows audibly but doesn’t flinch away from my penetrating gaze. “I know you’re still in there somewhere, Sloane.”
I smirk at him. “Wrong again.” I tweak the end of his nose with my finger. “Fine, have it your way. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Chapter 29
Luke
I shove the door closed behind me and toss my keys on the counter. Christ, it’s been a long day. I switch my cell over to speaker phone and slide it onto the counter.
“What were you thinking? You just declared war.”
“You said I needed to push her buttons.” Giving the refrigerator door a yank, I search out a can of Pepsi and crack it open.
“Subtly! You’ve just made everything fair game. God, do you know the things that she can use to hurt me, or you, or Haley.”
Shit. Sometimes I really do not think things through. I just put Haley in front of the firing squad and handed Sloane a loaded rifle. Myself too, but I can handle that. At least, I’m pretty sure that I can. Sloane’s stare-down this morning was nerve-racking, to say the least. It was like she could see straight down into my soul and every private thought I’d ever hidden there was laid out on display for her examination.
I run a hand through my hair. “How do I fix this?”
“Fix it?” Blaire’s laugh fills my kitchen, though there isn’t any humor in it. “You can’t fix it; you just need to end it. The sooner the better.”
My phone beeps at me as another caller tries to get through. “I’ve got another call; we’re going to have to talk about this later.”
“Fine, later.”
I swipe my finger across the screen, frowning when I see it’s my night manager calling. “Hello?”
“Hey, Luke, it’s Bobby. We’ve got a situation here.”
“What kind of situation?” I pause, waiting to hear what’s going on before I take off my shoes.
“There’s a woman. I swear man, I didn’t know how drunk she was when she got here. I only gave her two drinks, but she’s … I’m just not sure that it’s safe for her to be going home on her own.”
It must be pretty bad if Bobby’s actually calling me at home. Damn, I was really looking forward to kicking back and watching the game tonight. I flex my toes in the confines of my dress shoes. So much for delegating. “Alright, I’ll be there in five.”
Abandoning any ideas I had of relaxing tonight, I walk right back out the door. On my way through the parking lot I shoot a quick text to Haley canceling our plans. After a fast drive through town, I pull into the parking lot and kill the engine. I can’t help but smile as I look at The Edge. My b
aby. Hard work and an opportune retirement by the previous owner had dropped her in my lap, and as far as I was concerned, I’d done a damn good job with her.
Then, when handling the diner got to be too much for Bunny, and Sloane was nowhere to be found, and Blaire wasn’t interested in taking a full-time role, I had offered to help. Six months later she’d sold it to me with the provision that she would maintain her management role. I still can’t help but question Bunny’s change of heart, how she went from thinking I wasn’t good enough for her granddaughter to somehow being good enough to take over her most prized possession.
I take one last sweeping glance at the place. Who would have thought that the town screwup would turn into a successful businessman?
When I make my way up to the bar, Bobby motions through the back. “She’s out on the deck; looks like she’s making her way toward the beach.”
I pick her out from the crowd. I’m both surprised and not, when I realize that it’s Sloane. As I stand here debating how to handle the situation, she takes off down the steps and heads across the sand.
Shit. I’m 99 percent positive that she’ll steer clear of the water, but on the off chance that she might wander into it and drown, I hurry out through the door toward her. The last thing I need is for her death to be on my conscience.
By the time I make it down there, she’s already hip deep in the water. How many things can I possibly be wrong about today?
She stands completely still, her arms hanging at her side. Only as the waves brush up against her does she sway with them. Her shirt suctions to her skin, going all but see-through in the water. The wind whips her hair to the side as the moon paints a white stripe across the water.
Trying not to startle her, I walk up quietly next to her. Sand and water fill my shoes in an incredibly unpleasant fashion. Inside, I smile at the realization that I finally have a reason to throw them out. I hate these damn shoes. If it wasn’t for the fact that Haley gave them to me for Christmas, they would have found a trash can a long time ago. No more toe-squeezing, pinching agony.
“Sloane?”
She turns at her name but doesn’t say anything.
“What are you doing out here?”
Her eyes are glassy as she looks at me and then she turns back around. She raises her chin toward the sky, bathing her face in moonlight as the ends of her hair trails in the waves. “I’m testing myself.”
I’m scum for taking advantage of her in this situation, but maybe since she’s so off the rails at the moment, she’ll let something useful slip. “What kind of test?”
Looking at me again, she tilts her head to the side in a way that makes her look eerily like a doll. “I used to be afraid of the ocean.” Trailing a finger through the water, she shakes her head. “I wanted to make sure that I could do it.”
“Do what?”
“Keep it buried. If this doesn’t do it, then I’ll be fine. I can’t let them do this to me again.”
“Who?”
“My parents, Blaire, Luke … everyone.”
I squat down so that I can look in her eyes, and when she looks up at me, I’m smashed over the head by the memory of the first time she kissed me at the black-and-white party. That night, there was so much hope there, so much life that it actually glistened in her eyes. Now it’s gone and there’s just an empty, haunting feeling that tugs at emotions I thought were long gone.
“We’re only trying to help you, Sloane. Maybe you should let us.”
She shakes her head again. “I can’t. I won’t survive it a second time.”
Sinking down to her knees, she covers her face with her hands. A wave nearly knocks her over, and she doesn’t even reach out to try to catch herself. Fishing her out of the water, I scoop her up and hold her against my chest, my shirt soaking through where she presses against me.
As she loops her arms around my neck and rests her cheek against my chest, she says, “I’m so tired, Luke.”
Her head lolls as she passes out. Sticking her in my passenger seat, I buckle her in, then walk around the car to the driver’s seat. Looking at her like this drags up a whole other set of memories that has me choking on disgust and loathing. The memories collide with each other as my brain tries to reconcile the girl I lost my heart to with the broken woman sitting next to me. What happened to you, Sloane?
The one saving grace of this night is that she doesn’t vomit in my car. That would have been the cherry on the cake. Instead, she curls up in a ball, her cheek pressed against the glass of the window. My headlights slice through the night, highlighting the length of her front porch as I pull into the driveway.
I walk around my car and scoop her back up into my arms. Kicking the front door open, I walk her into her bedroom and drop her on the bed. The shock of landing must wake her, because she swipes the hair out of her face and glares up at me.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”
“Relax, sweetheart, I was just bringing you home since you were too fucked up to get here yourself.”
I’m ready for her anger, eager for it even, because it means that I’m succeeding. But I watch as she slips on a mask, kicks her feet over the side of the bed, and comes toward me with a smile on her face.
She reaches up a hand and trails it down my chest. “That’s so sweet of you. I should probably thank you for that.”
Inches from reaching the edge of my pants, I wrap my fingers around her wrist. “Don’t.”
She pouts. “What’s wrong, Luke? Don’t like what you see anymore?”
Bile burns at the back of my throat. I’ve already jumped into this thing headfirst, so I think of the most hurtful thing I can say that might snap her out of it, and say it: “No, Sloane, I don’t. You want to know what I see when I look at you now? I see Evelyn.”
Wrenching her hand from my grasp, she slaps me so hard that I see spots. “Get out,” she hisses.
“Gladly.”
As I stride from the room, slamming the door behind me, I can’t stop the feeling of satisfaction that I got from seeing her face cloud with so many emotions. I wish satisfaction were the only thing I’m feeling, but I’m so disgusted with myself for even mentioning Sloane’s name in the same breath as Evelyn’s that I want to be sick.
Sloane puts up a very convincing front, but she’s still under there somewhere. The only question is: How far will we have to go to bring her back?
Chapter 30
Sloane
Why the hell is it raining inside?
As I roll over, the comforter squishes against me, saturating my shirt with water and plastering strands of hair to my face. Did I throw up? I never do that. I force my eyes open, and another small drop splashes between my eyes. Squinting up at the ceiling, I’m just able to make out a large wet spot, when the ceiling gives a groan and the whole thing collapses. I manage to throw my hands up over my face before I’m hit with a burst of water and debris.
Flailing my arms and legs, I push aside a chunk of plaster and roll off the bed. I step into a pool of murky water on the floor. Glancing up, a waterfall spews from a rust-coated pipe in the ceiling. What the hell happened in here? My thoughts flash back to the events of last night, to the things that Luke said to me. I fist my hand at my side, feeling his words stab through me like a tiny pocketknife. He had no right to say that. He crossed the line.
Sloshing across the room, the dirty water lapping at my ankles, I haul my suitcase after me. The water ripples around it in small undulating waves. The wheels bump over the uneven wooden boards of the porch. Soaking wet, I sit down on the front steps and dial the police.
* * *
“Burst pipe,” the policeman tells me, chomping on a wad of gum. He chews like a cow, and I resist the urge to tell him to close his damn mouth. “You got somewhere else to stay for a while?”
“She can stay with me,” Gran says, patting me on the shoulder. If it weren’t for the completely corroded pipe jutting out of the ceiling, I would have accused her of sab
otage.
Luke points to my suitcase. “Is this all you have?”
I nod, still annoyed that he’s here. Couldn’t Gran have gotten a ride from someone else?
“C’mon then,” he says. “I’ll drive you guys over.”
“No, I’ll—” I stop when I see that my driveway’s empty. Luke raises an eyebrow at me.
“Whatever.” I shove myself to my feet and grimace, clutching my side.
“What’s wrong?” Bunny asks.
I bite my lip at the stinging pain. “It’s nothing.”
Luke grabs the edge of my shirt and yanks it up, pushing my hand aside when I try to stop him. His fingers trail across my skin, shooting a whole different type of feeling between my legs. He pokes at my ribs and I wince. “You might wanna get this checked out.”
I twist so that I can see what he’s looking at. There’s a nice grapefruit-size bruise across my ribs. That’ll look pretty in a few days when it transforms into a mass of sickly greens and yellows. I tug the edge of my shirt from his hand and pull it back down. “It’s nothing.”
I can tell he’s tempted to say more on the subject, but he lets it go with a shrug.
“Well, if you’re not going to listen to good sense, we may as well get you settled in at the house. Pick up that bag, Luke, and let’s go,” Gran says, giving him a squeeze on the arm.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. Since when did they get so chummy?
Piling into the car, I suffer through the short ride in silence. I’ll have to call around and see if there are any other houses available, but I’m fairly certain there aren’t. And of course Briscoll Bay is too quaint to have anything resembling a chain hotel. I’m screwed.
We pass a surprised Blaire and Haley on our way into the house. They stare after us as we walk by. I guess that means they’re friends. Figures.
Rounding the corner, I freeze as my feet become encased in concrete. I can’t move.
The jade comforter, Luke’s warm tears seeping through my nightshirt, his hand as it trailed up my thigh—all of the memories from that night come crashing down on me as I stand in the doorway. Even when I squeeze my eyes shut, the whole thing plays out behind them like a movie.
