Remnants (A Golden Beach Novel)

by Kim Loraine

  Megan jutted her chin toward the kitchen. “Left it on the counter.” As she walked past, Megan snagged the picture sticking out of Sloan’s back pocket. “What’s this?”

  “Hey!” She reached out to grab the memento, but Meg danced away.

  “Oh my goodness. You two were adorable. How old were you here?”

  She couldn’t fight her smile. They were adorable. “I was sixteen, almost seventeen and he’d just turned eighteen.”

  “How long were you together?”

  “A little over a year. We, uh, we broke up a few weeks after that picture was taken.”

  Meg traced the edges of the photograph with her fingers. “Really? He’s looking at you like you’re his entire world.”

  Her heart lurched. Even now it hurt. “That’s what I thought. But things change. People aren’t who you think they are. Better that it happened while we were young.”

  “Hmm. And yet . . .”

  When she didn’t elaborate, Sloan cocked an eyebrow and gestured for her to continue.

  “I’ve been acquainted with that man a long time. Do you know how many serious girlfriends he’s had?”

  She didn’t want to hear the number, but she shook her head and listened anyway.

  “Zero. He hasn’t been in a single relationship that went beyond a date or two. Believe me, the teachers talk. There were a few who had hoped to snag him . . . but failed.” Meg tapped one finger on her chin. “I wonder why. Maybe he’s still in love with you.”

  Did that make her feel better or worse? He was screwing around, not giving himself the chance to find love. Or was he still the callous and selfish boy she’d left behind?

  She needed a subject change. “Hey, the weather’s great. Want to go for a run on the beach?”

  Meg wrinkled her nose. “Run? Yuck. I’ll go for a leisurely stroll, though. Can we go get my dog? She needs some exercise. Poor girl is getting fat in her old age.”

  Sloan laughed. “Sure. I’ll meet you at Cups.”

  Fifteen minutes later, she strolled the sidewalk, heading toward the coffee shop. The boardwalk was unusually crowded. Probably a street performer entertaining since it was a sunny Saturday afternoon. Her heart flipped as the crowd gave way and she saw what they had all gathered around. A large dunk tank was set up and two firefighters, decked out in their dark blue uniforms, and those fitted GBFD T-shirts stood to the right of the tank. They were laughing and staring at the man seated inside. Her gaze flitted to him and she had to stop herself from groaning in frustration and, if she was being honest with herself, arousal. It was Carson. His shirt was soaking wet, plastered to his chest, and wow if he didn’t look every inch as muscular as she’d fantasized.

  Megan must have arrived at some point during Sloan’s ogling. Her breathy announcement of, “Well, damn,” said it all.

  Damn was right.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sully wiped the water from his eyes for the fourth time in ten minutes. He’d lost another bet to Donovan and now got to do his buddy’s shift in the tank as well as his own. Alex and Donovan laughed as the next person made a donation and immediately grabbed a ball. The woman handed it to her son who pointed at Sully and winked before chucking it as hard as he could. The ball hit the metal with a loud bang and as the bench collapsed beneath him, he saw Sloan in the crowd.

  Without thinking, he sucked in a breath as he hit the water and came up coughing and spluttering. But even through his gasps for breath his focus went to Sloan. She was smiling, laughing at him, and he didn’t care. She was a vision of everything he wanted and all he was afraid to lose.

  “Come on, Sullivan. You’re better than that. You trying to get out of finishing your shift?” Donovan’s dig would have pissed him off, but the look on Sloan’s face made up for any embarrassment. He hadn’t seen her smile like that since she’d returned to Golden Beach.

  “My shift’s over, Miller. Somebody else get up here. I’m going for a walk.”

  Sully locked eyes with Sloan, climbed out of the tank, and grabbed a towel. The flash of alarm that crossed her face had him fighting the urge to rush through the sea of onlookers. He didn’t want her running away. He needed to know if she really believed the words she’d said to Beckett outside Pete’s the last time he’d seen her. The only way he could find out, would be to get her to talk.

  His heart pounded as he took precious moments to dry his face before heading in Sloan’s direction. All he saw was her blond ponytail swinging as she rounded the corner and jogged away from him. He pushed through the crowd, dripping water as he went. He should let her go, stop acting crazy, but he had to get this aching out of his chest. And there was only one way to do that.

  “Sloan!” he called as he went after her.

  She was maybe fifty feet from him, jogging as though she didn’t know he was there. But when she flicked a glance over her shoulder and picked up the pace, her bluff was burned to cinders. She knew he was there.

  “Jesus, Sloan, slow down.” Megan puffed and stopped in her tracks.

  As Sully closed the distance between Megan and himself, he kept an eye on his prize. Meg waved him on, not attempting to discourage him from going after Sloan.

  Sloan was fast.

  He was faster.

  He sprinted across the beach as she raced away from him. Once he almost turned back. What if this was frightening for her? They didn’t really know each other anymore, and here he was, chasing her down. But she turned her head again and grinned as their gazes connected. His chest swelled and he pushed harder as she slowed.

  Her laughter filled the air as she tripped and fell into the sand before rolling onto her back. She sucked in deep breaths and huffed out, “You’ve gotten faster in your old age, Carson. That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

  Not caring about the sand sticking to his wet clothes, he sat next to her. “I always let you win before because I knew I’d get you in the end.”

  They stayed silent as she continued to slow her breathing.

  “Why did you run, Sloan?” he asked, not sure if he was asking about this moment or the barbecue at Grace’s.

  When she finally sat up, she tucked her knees into her chest and peered at him with a curious expression. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend. She’s pretty.”

  A frown furrowed his brow. What the hell was she talking about? “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  With a shake of her head, she stood and brushed the sand off her backside. “Don’t lie to me, Carson.”

  He was on his feet before she could walk away again. “I’m not lying. I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  “She was all over you at Pete’s the other night. Is that how women act around you? My, how you’ve changed.”

  “Oh, I see. You’re jealous.” He laughed and took the opportunity to control the situation, walking toward the surf until his feet lined up with the edge of the shoreline.

  “I . . . I’m not jealous. But if you’re dating someone, you shouldn’t be meeting me under the boardwalk and chasing me down the beach.”

  “I’m not dating anyone. She and I used to . . . hook up from time to time.”

  “So it is true?”

  “What?”

  “You’ve turned into an asshole player.”

  He started to deny it, but she was right. There wasn’t a chance he’d let himself be hurt again, that he’d give his heart to another woman just so she could crush it. “I don’t have to justify my dating habits to you. If I’d had it my way, I’d have been off the market fifteen years ago. You did this. You left me. You took everything. Our future,” he swallowed past the lump in his throat, “our . . . our child.” Her chin trembled as he spoke, and if it weren’t for the anger clawing at him, he might have stopped. “I loved you more than anything, Sloan
. And when you left, I never recovered. Obviously it didn’t mean as much to you.”

  A tear slid down her cheek. “I did what I thought was best . . . for all of us.”

  He ran his hand over the back of his neck and turned his gaze away from her, staring at the endless ocean. “It wasn’t best.”

  Her small fist connected with his shoulder. “You asshole. How dare you tell me I should have done it differently? Do you remember what you said to me? You told me getting pregnant ruined your life. That you couldn’t understand how I could let something like that happen.”

  He fought the urge to give in to the old familiar anger and tilted his head back, closing his eyes against the rush of painful memories. “We were kids. Stupid, emotional, and facing a life-changing consequence because we were in love. Sloan, I was heartsick over you leaving and then to know we’d fucked up and had one more huge change coming . . . it was too much for me to process in the moment. I hated myself the minute I said I didn’t want the baby.”

  “No. You didn’t want me. You didn’t want any of it. Don’t try to sugarcoat this and make it seem like a tragic love story. You weren’t willing to face the hard stuff. You weren’t the person I thought I knew. And, so far, you haven’t shown me anything different. You never really loved me.”

  She started down the beach again, but he wasn’t going to let her get away. No way in hell was he the bad guy in this scenario. His hand encircled her elbow and he tugged her backward until she was flush against him. He spun her in his arms, took her face between his hands, and claimed her mouth without another word.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sloan melted into the kiss as Carson’s hands moved from the sides of her face and down her body. He pulled her tightly to him as his tongue teased the seam of her lips, begging entrance. This was so different from their frantic, fumbling kisses in the back seat of his dad’s old station wagon. If she’d thought he knew what he was doing when they were teenagers, she’d been wrong. Now, Carson Sullivan could kiss.

  He groaned against her lips as she opened and let him inside. Fire raced through her at his touch, his sounds, his . . . everything. It was familiar, and completely new at the same time. The scrape of his stubble against her skin sent tingles across her body, and when his hand found her ass and he palmed her without hesitance or apology, she thought her knees might give way.

  “Carson,” she breathed as his lips moved from hers.

  “Jesus, Sloan.”

  “We . . .” What had she been about to say? She couldn’t think with his tongue dancing across her neck as he kissed his way down.

  “Stop talking,” he murmured.

  “We need to take this somewhere more private.”

  He let her go, stepping back and running a hand over his face. “No.”

  Her heart stuttered. “No?”

  “If we get behind closed doors, I’m going to fuck you. In fact, I want to toss you on the sand right now and take you regardless of who can see. But we can’t do that. Not if you think I never loved you. Tell me you still think there’s nothing between us after a kiss like that. Tell me, and I’ll walk away.”

  God, there was no way she could lie to him. That kiss had been all angry passion, desperation, desire, and adoration. It had been the connection of two people who’d been lost to each other.

  “You hurt me. I left because of you.”

  Anger hardened his features. “You got rid of our baby, Sloan. You fucking destroyed everything good we had together.”

  Pain shot through her chest at the thought of the impossible choice she’d made. As much as that kiss had affected her, made her want to be his again, his words proved they couldn’t continue this . . . whatever they were doing.

  “I have to go,” she whispered.

  He took her hand. “No. You can’t run from this.”

  Fury burning in her blood, she turned hard eyes on him. “Why not? You did. Maybe if you’d been a better man, I wouldn’t have had to make that decision. You weren’t enough. Clearly, you’re still not. Get your hands off me and stay out of my life.”

  The shock on his face left a sick feeling in her stomach. It was obvious he still blamed her for the baby. She couldn’t bear trying to be with him if he held that kind of resentment toward her. She stepped backward without a word and jogged away, needing space, needing time to mourn him, and needing a moment to recover from his accusations.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sloan spotted Megan strolling along the boardwalk with an ice cream cone in one hand and her little dog’s pink leash in the other. She smiled as Sloan approached, but the grin quickly turned to a concerned expression.

  “Hey, what’s going on?”

  Sloan fought back the tears welling in her eyes. “Nothing. I need to get home. Sorry.”

  “Want me to come over? We can talk about it.”

  A sob caught in her throat at the thought of rehashing everything. “No. I . . . I need to be alone for a while. I’ve got some stuff to think over. I don’t know, maybe moving back here was a bad idea.” She’d spent so much time convincing herself that coming home to Golden Beach would give her the independence she needed, but was it worth shattering her already broken heart?

  “What did that gorgeous asshole do to you?”

  She walked as fast as her legs would take her, and Meg worked to keep up. “He kissed me.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “And he blamed me for breaking his heart.”

  “Did you?”

  Sloan let out an exasperated sigh, then turned tear filled eyes on her friend. “It’s . . . complicated. But, in the end, we broke each other.”

  Meg pulled her in for a hug and squeezed so tight Sloan thought she might crack a rib. “You don’t need him.”

  She wished she could believe Meg, could make that statement true, but everything in her screamed otherwise. Her heart cried out for the one person she needed to stay away from. Carson had been her safe harbor, but now she didn’t have him to run to. Meg said she didn’t need him, but Sloan was pretty certain she needed Carson more than she ever had.

  Chapter 8

  “You going to drink that shot or just stare at it all day?”

  Dominique’s raspy voice filled Sully’s head as he played his conversation with Sloan over in his mind.

  He’d been such an ass. How could he treat her that way? Like she shouldered all the blame for them ending up a teenage statistic. Of course, she’d made the choice to have an abortion. He had nothing to offer her—except love. But love doesn’t mean a damn thing when you’re struggling to keep a family fed. No doubt, her parents had ensured she remembered exactly where he’d come from. His family was blue-collar. Not good enough for a girl with an Ivy League future ahead of her.

  “Hey, Sully.” Dominique waved a hand in front of his face.

  “I paid for the damn drink. I can do what I want with it. Leave me alone or I’ll find another barstool.”

  “I’d like to see you try. Since they’re about to tear down the Golden Beach Bar and Grill, there’s going to be literally nowhere else to go. Unless you want to drive out to the city.”

  He risked a glance at her and a twinge of guilt ran through him at her crestfallen expression. She was a friend, and he was taking his shit out on her. He pushed the tequila across the bar toward the man sitting two stools away, he muttered, “Here, buddy. Enjoy.”

  After dropping a ten-dollar bill on the bar, he headed out the door, hoping Dom wouldn’t see the tip until he was long gone. He shouldn’t be drinking anyway. He’d seen the effect of too much alcohol on a sore heart too many times between Michael, Donovan, and Alex. It always led to bad choices and more problems. The gravel crunched under his feet as he crossed the parking lot and strode to his car. His phone rang the instant he buckled his
seatbelt.

  “Carson, baby? I need you to come help me.” His mom’s voice was trembling and fearful.

  “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know where I am. Come get me.”

  Shit. She was getting worse every damn day. “What do you see, Mom?”

  “I’m in a bedroom. But . . . everything is strange.”

  “Tell me what color the curtains are.”

  She took a breath and sighed. “Yellow.”

  Thank fuck. She was in her bedroom. “Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes. Don’t move.”

  As he hung up, he glanced down at his uniform. It was dry, but rumpled and still covered in sand. He wanted to change into something different, wash away this shitstorm of a day, but his mom needed him. All through the drive he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering back to the fierce anger he’d seen in Sloan’s eyes. Her final, biting remark kept replaying on a loop. You weren’t enough. Clearly, you’re still not.

  By the time he arrived in front of his mom’s house, she was kneeling in the flowerbed, furiously digging in the dirt, clad in nothing but a thin nightgown.

  “Shit,” he muttered as he ran across the lawn and tossed his jacket over her shoulders. “Mom, what are you doing out here?”

  “I have to get the weeds pulled before we plant the dahlias.”

  “It’s fall. We don’t plant those until spring.”

  Her fingers were nearly black with soil, the dirt stuck under her nails and in the grooves of her wrinkled hands. “Carson?” She blinked big eyes up at him. She was back. He had her, the real her, again.

  “Come on inside,” he said, tucking her against his big body. “You need to get cleaned up.”

  She smiled, but there was fear behind her eyes. “Thank you, sweetie.”

  They walked into the house and he searched for any sign that there was more for him to take care of as she cleaned herself up. The home was pristine. Not a picture frame out of place. In fact, it still looked like the house he grew up in. The problem was, his father’s slippers should have been boxed up, not set out waiting for him to come home. Neither should his dad’s favorite mug be sitting next to the coffee maker. Sully remembered vividly the day he and his mom had finally packed up all his dad’s stuff. Most was donated, but they’d kept one box full of his favorite things.