Need to hold her.
Apologize.
Hunter and Lio came home from her yesterday when I was sitting at the kitchen table next to Nash, sipping my second glass of whiskey while Nash was at his laptop, googling how to make a good apology.
If it weren’t so fucking sad, I would have laughed.
Nash told us he had apologized, but she told him it wasn’t real, making me wonder what a proper apology would look like to her.
I have no fucking idea.
Hunter brought her food, and she sent him away too. He shared with us what Tally told him. Sloan is hurt, not eating or sleeping, living in a van that finally gave up on her completely.
She’s not safe.
The way she’s living and treating herself.
Unsafe.
And I can’t do a goddamn thing about it.
So I drowned my sorrows again.
It’s the only thing I know how to do.
Stretching my legs, I let my eyes fall closed and take a few deep breaths, tilting my head from left to right. My muscles are tight with tension I can’t seem to release. I’m just about to pull out my headphones when I open my eyes and seeherwalking past me.
Almost choking on air, I have to do a double take to see if exhaustion and alcohol are causing me to have hallucinations. But no, Sloan’s blonde ponytail swings back and forth, and her perfect ass wiggles as she makes her way toward the boardwalk, passing me without a second glance.
I don’t even think as I move to follow, maintaining a few feet of distance, jogging along the boardwalk, even though my body protests, warning me that it might make me puke after all. Continuing along the path, I quicken my pace as Sloan does.
She’s wearing a tight black jacket and black tights, and her sneakers thud softly against the wooden planks. Her movements are sluggish, and I can tell she’s tired, worn down by her own demons haunting her.
My heart aches as I watch her. The sight of her so defeated and hurting tugs at something deep within me. I’m responsible for what happened, even though it wasn’t solely my fault.
But I started the fire.
I should have listened to her, believed her, and made sure she didn’t slip away like this.
I keep my eyes on her feet, obsessing over her steps, making sure she doesn’t twist her ankle again. As we approach the end of the boardwalk, Sloan suddenly stops and turns, her eyes narrowing as she spots me. I freeze in my tracks, guilt washing over me like a tidal wave.
I feel like a fucking stalker, but I couldn’t help it. I needed to follow her.
Watch out for her.
She glares at me, her gaze piercing through me as if blaming me for everything that’s wrong in the world.
You’re not wrong, baby.
Then, without a word, she runs past me, back in the direction we came. My heart sinks, but I don’t hesitate to follow her. I can’t let her out of my sight.
Not again.
We race back along the boardwalk, and she’s muttering to herself. Like always, my headphones have no music playing, and I can faintly hear her voice, filled with frustration.
“He’s an idiot,” she hisses, her voice trembling. “A fucking coward. I deserve better, and you know it too.”
My heart clenches at her words. I don’t know who she’s talking to, although I have an idea. If I didn’t know what I do know now, I would still think she’s crazy, like the other times I caught her talking to herself. But now I wonder…
