“I can’t handle people yelling at me, okay? That doesn’t mean I’m weak or that you can’t discuss things with me while I cry,” Sloan retorts, her tone laced with anger despite the tears.
“Women,” North mutters dismissively, and I can’t believe my ears.
Oh no, he didn’t.
“You fucking dick,” Sloan exclaims.
At the same time, I start, “Are you kidding me, North? I told you?—”
“And I told you!” North interrupts me, his frustration mounting as he wipes his hand over his desk, sending a stack of papers flying in all directions.
Sloan instinctively ducks away from him, but I remain unfazed. I know North would never harm anyone intentionally. He’s the kindest, most caring guy, always trying to keep everyone safe and looking out for those around him in his own subtle ways. He’s just been tightly wound with grief, despair, and self-loathing for the past few years, and the only way he seems to release some of those emotions is through anger.
I’m not afraid of North. I pity him.
We’re both our own level of fucked up.
Turning my attention to Sloan and effectively ignoring North, I inquire, “What could be so urgent that you couldn’t wait for your paycheck?” She only bites her lip and averts her gaze, crossing her arms over her chest. I take a step closer, gently lifting her chin with my thumb and forefinger to make her look at me. “Tell me,” I urge.
“My heater broke,” she states matter-of-factly, taking a step away from me and shrugging.
I furrow my brow at her.
The heater in her van?
“North, let’s give her an advance payment,” I suggest, my eyes still fixed on her.
“No,” they both exclaim simultaneously, and I have to suppress a chuckle.
Stubborn idiots.
“I’ll manage. Thanks,” Sloan mutters, glancing at her phone to check the time before turning back to North. “Am I fired?”
North is about to speak, but I beat him to it. “No, you’re not fired, Sloan. See you tomorrow.”
TWENTY-SIX
The motorof my BMW hums before I push the button to turn off the engine, having parked in my usual spot at the Mowry Beach reserve. I get out of the car and shudder at the cold wind through my thin workout pants and shirt.
It’s super early, and the sun is hidden beneath a thick layer of clouds. There is frost over everything.
I go to the back of the car and take out my black hoodie and red running shoes with spikes on the soles. The boardwalk is made of wood, and the frost covering the planks can make them slippery. The spikes clack with every step, but I prefer that to falling on my ass.
Early-morning joggers and people I encounter on the beach here are way too friendly. I put in my headphones, even though I don’t plan to listen to music. I figure the passersby will just smile and nod if I have them in, so I keep doing it.
I need this run desperately.
I’m still not over my outburst from yesterday and can’t seem to figure out if I overreacted or if I was in the right. Seeing her playing poker with the guys like Saylor and I always did, it nearly killed me.
I miss him so damn much.
And it’s all my fault.
But it wasn’t only that. All the men were leering at her. I know a lot of them, and most are pretty good guys with families and little kids—people I would spend my free time with if I had any. But there are still some left who Dad employed that I’m not particularly fond of. The way they looked at her made my skin itch. And she didn’t even notice.
At the start of the boardwalk, I spot the woman herself stretching her tight little body.
Of course, she would be here again too.
