Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Over the next week or so, Gage felt Sloane withdrawing from him. From them.
She avoided him whenever possible at work. And once again claimed a headache to skip dinner and go to her room Friday evening.
He knew what was happening, and he hated every second of it. Braced himself for the moment she suddenly announced she was leaving.
But the rest of the weekend? When she wasn’t trying to actively avoid him?
They kissed. Touched. Found themselves making out like teenagers until she’d inevitably find the strength to pull away with a soft sound that broke his heart, calling an end to the chemistry blazing between them even as they clung a bit more tightly to one another as a result.
Like that would keep her family at bay and her in his arms.
Keep her from extracting herself from the embrace and go running downstairs to gather her wits before trying to avoid him again.
The island quieted in the weeks after Thanksgiving, but it would pick back up before Christmas. Until then the locals maintained the slow, lazy pace of island life in the offseason.
Sloane repeatedly pressed Gage to hire someone, but every attempt was shot down. He didn’t come out and say it, but he hoped the longer he put it off, the longer she’d feel compelled to stay.
After all, he knew her real last name now. No sense in hiding or thinking she was alone in her fight against whatever control her family held over her.
Sloane remained on edge, her expression easy to read because when she wasn’t working on a task, she always seemed a million miles away, a frown pulling her eyebrows into a V over her nose. She also spent a lot of time on her computer, but whenever he got close, she shut things down. Fast.
That upped his curiosity even more. She held secrets. But were they family secrets or her own?
December rolled in with cooler temperatures but bright sunny days, and the island transformed with beach-themed Christmas decor.
The tree lot on the island had opened up at Thanksgiving, the little red camper that housed the caretakers in place. The older couple was a staple on the island every year, except for last year when an accident had kept them from coming.
Gage bought a small tree for the shop and brought it in along with some ornaments he’d picked up at a box store to decorate it.
Sloane had given him an odd look when he’d entered carrying the tree, but he’d shot her a grin and blasted Christmas carols as they’d decorated it.
He wanted to get one for the townhouse for them, but his gut told him she might feel pressured even more, so he let it be.
They were rarely home except to sleep anyway.
Gage found himself watching Sloane, the curve of her full lips as she arranged one of the cheap plastic crab ornaments while wearing a black-and-leopard-print Santa hat cocked just so.
His heart pinched when he thought of how it would feel next year if she wasn’t there, and the air left his lungs as anger and hurt surged.
Alec had informed Gage of Noah’s visit to the rentals building. He’d really hoped the guy had left town, but that obviously wasn’t the case. But why was he sticking around?
Gage had gone back and watched the video footage of her meeting with her brother, but since the video lacked audio, he could only guess what Noah had said to her before sauntering out the door.
The weekend came and brought with it another birthday-celebration gathering for the month. It was his turn to host, so he’d asked Sloane to join him in picking up some decorations and party favors the Friday evening before.
“I can’t believe your family does this every month,” Sloane said, grabbing some confetti twists off the rack.
He smiled at her words and tossed in some candles. “There are too many of us to have individual birthdays, so we made it a once-a-month thing.”
“And whose birthday is it again?”
“Alec’s, Sophia’s and…mine.”
“Wait, what? Yours? When?”
Gage felt a little uncomfortable. “Wednesday.”
“Hmm,” she said, moving down the aisle of supplies. “How old are you?” She flashed him an over-the-hill sign in all black.
“Not that old,” he grumbled, earning a laugh from her that twisted his mouth into a smile. “Brat.”
She grabbed a can of spray string and waggled it at him.
“Sure, why not?”
She tossed it in along with a few others. This was going to be a messy party. But he liked seeing her grin and loved the fact she was having so much fun picking out silly party stuff. “What were your birthday parties like growing up?”
A pensive expression flickered over her features, and her smile fell before she bucked it up again.
“Expensive. Boring. I was born on New Year’s Eve. When I was home, my father insisted on being seen at some party, or he’d take us to the ballet or the opera. When I was in boarding school, it was usually a cake in the cafeteria.”
So her father wouldn’t bring her home over the winter holiday sometimes? That had to hurt. “Did you like the ballet and opera?”
She wrinkled her nose. “The ballet wasn’t bad. All the pretty costumes and ballerinas running around. But the opera? One time I went to the bathroom just so I could stuff toilet paper in my ears to try to block out the noise.”
He chuckled at the image, well able to imagine a freckle-faced, curly-headed little girl in a fancy dress with toilet paper poking out of her ears.
Sloane picked something else off the shelf, staring hard at it.
“I remember going to a real birthday party once, though. My parents were away, and my nanny was sick, so the maid— My father would have fired her instantly if he’d known but— She took me to her granddaughter’s birthday party, basically so she wouldn’t have to miss it due to taking care of me.
They had a bounce house and balloons and music, and everyone was talking and laughing and playing games. It was the best party ever.”
How sad was it that the best party she’d ever been to had belonged to a maid’s granddaughter? “Your father never found out?”
She put the bag of sticky eyeballs back on the hook.
“No. At least not that I know of.” She turned toward him. “I’ve never told anyone that story, so if he does find out—I’ll know it came from you.”
Gage held up a hand. “Your secret is safe with me, Merida. You should know by now that you can tell me anything.”
The party was a mess but a fun one. Mak—Finn’s new love—had made the cakes, others brought food and paper goods, and the townhouse was filled with laughter and teasing all afternoon.
“Any more brother sightings?”
Dawson’s low-voiced question held more than a bit of interest.
“No,” Gage said. “You?”
“No, but I did some digging.”
Gage’s eyebrows lifted at that. “And?”
Dawson took a drink from the cup he held and leaned his hip against the kitchen counter. “She’s an enigma, that one. Not many women would give up a princess lifestyle to sleep in her car. Any idea why she is?”
“Was,” Gage countered. “And no. She says her father wants her to take her place in the business, whatever that means. She doesn’t like it that her family keeps tabs on her and wants her back in Chicago. What do you know about them?”
“Corporate accounting. Seems on the up-and-up, but there were a few holdings that I haven’t been able to track. Might mean something, or it might mean nothing.”
“She’s scared of them.” The moment the words emerged, Gage wished he could take them back. He didn’t feel right sharing something so personal about Sloane’s life, not even with his brother. “She says they won’t hurt her, but—I don’t know. Something is off there. Big time.”
“I’ll keep digging.”
“Be discreet,” Gage ordered. “If they find out, they’ll blame her.”
“I have my ways, little brother.” Dawson placed his arm around Gage’s shoulders and squeezed. “But watch your back, just in case.”
A huff left him. “I already am.”
The following Wednesday evening, Gage let himself into the townhouse and paused at the glorious smell filling the air. He removed his shoes and took the stairs two at a time, entering the open space with a curiosity he couldn’t have disguised if he tried. “Something smells good.”
Sloane turned from the stove with a bright smile, but he noted it didn’t reach her beautiful eyes.
“One of my grandmother’s recipes. Chicken and dumplings and apple pie. Hope you don’t mind. I was in the mood to cook. Happy birthday!”
He grinned as he joined her in the kitchen and drew her into his arms, lowering his head to kiss her. He kept it light and sweet, but as always, they got a little carried away before it ended. “Mmm. I don’t mind at all, but I still think you taste better than dinner.”
She smiled against his lips.
“You haven’t tried it yet.”
He kissed her again. “I stand by my words. Are you my present?”
She laughed softly, and he noted the flush that rose into her cheeks, deepening the freckles.
“Your present is a delicious dinner and the fact that I finished the downstairs. You’re one hundred percent organized. Everything is labeled, stacked, and logged both here and at the rentals building. We’re celebrating everything tonight.”
His body tensed at the news and the way she pulled away from him to turn back to the stove. Gage took in the scene. The table settings and candles, the low music filtering out of the speakers. But was it a celebration—or something else?
“Go wash up,” she said. “It’s hot and ready.”
That she was, he mused, feet dragging toward the bathroom because his mind filled in the blanks left by overthinking. He prayed his gut was wrong. Begged it to be. But even though it was his birthday, something felt off, like the air was electrified and a storm approached.