Chapter 8
Sloane Bennett
I look in the mirror and assess my outfit.
I’m wearing a simple white linen dress that’s flattering without screaming look at me.
My cute sandal wedges give me the height I need and make my legs look a mile longer. The final touch is a red ribbon I found in my aunt’s shared bathroom.
I twist my hair into a flattering bun and tie the ribbon around it, leaving the ends to flutter down my back.
It makes me happy to think she might have worn it before. Something of hers will make it to the first block party she loved so much.
From what I’ve heard, she was usually the host.
I wonder how tonight will go.
Letting out a breath, I make my way downstairs and begin the nerve-racking walk to Samantha’s house.
I bring a vegetable tray because fuck if I know what you’re supposed to take to something like this.
I knock on the door, and Samantha greets me with a warm hug.
“Sloane, I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Her smile hits me straight in the heart.
She really does remind me of my aunt.
“Come out back. Almost everyone is here already.”
Samantha leads me outside, where I’m met with the best party setup I’ve ever seen.
There are rows of food, delicate desserts, two full drink carts, and decorations everywhere.
What the hell?
She ushers me around the party like the most gracious host in the world. With her beside me, I don’t feel quite so out of place.
I lock eyes with Celeste, and she gives me a wink. Her husband, Homer, is here too, and I try not to give him the stink eye.
My gaze begins searching for Cal, but I don’t see him.
My spirits sink slightly.
I was excited to see him.
Not that I’d admit it.
“This is Eli, our town sheriff. Eli, this is Sloane, our newest resident.”
“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Eli tips his head, and I smile awkwardly.
Why on earth is he still wearing his uniform?
“Same here.”
I smile politely, but I really want to sneak away and continue looking for Cal.
“Over there are the McNitts. They live at the end of the cul-de-sac. I heard a rumor their daughter might be crashing tonight’s event.”
My eyebrows pull together.
Why would their own daughter be considered a party crasher?
Samantha leans closer and lowers her voice.
“She just got out of jail, I heard. She’s on probation.”
“Oh.”
Wow.
What am I supposed to say to that gossip?
I look over just in time to see Cal enter beside a gorgeous young woman with long black hair.
It falls straight down her back, and she’s wearing short cut-off jean shorts, cherry-red cowboy boots, and a black bustier holding up her tits.
Cal laughs at something she says, then glances down at her chest.
Jesus.
I look away, grinding my teeth.
Who the hell is she?
Samantha catches me watching them and bumps her arm against mine.
“That’s her. Her name is Tess.”
Tess, huh?
I don’t like you.
They walk toward us, and Cal hugs Samantha warmly while I give Tess my best don’t-fuck-with-my-man stare.
“What on earth is your issue?” Tess asks, catching me off guard.
“My aunt died,” I fire back.
Her face falls.
“Shit, I’m sorry. It just looked like you were about to throat-punch me or something.”
I thought about it.
Cal barks out a laugh and drapes his arm around Tess.
“Oh, don’t worry about Sloane here. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
My heart aches at the sight of his arm around another woman.
I don’t think I’m going to make it through the night.
Luckily, Celeste must take pity on me because she rushes over.
“Sam, can I borrow Sloane for a minute?”
“Of course, dear. Go have fun with your friend. That’s about everyone. We can meet the others later.”
I nod, a lump forming in my throat as Cal watches me.
Doesn’t he know tonight is already hard enough?
I turn away and follow Celeste to the drink table.
“Here. Take this punch. It has the kick you need.”
It sure does.
I gulp some down before refilling my glass.
I wasn’t planning to make a jealous fool of myself tonight.
“Did they come together?” I ask.
Celeste looks over at them.
“No way. My guess is that he caught her trying to sneak away and brought her over to piss you off.”
“She looks way too young for him,” I huff.
“She’s only twenty.”
“Jesus.”
“You think Cal is interested in her?”
“Who knows? She hasn’t been back in town for a while, but I doubt it. He keeps looking over here.”
“He does?” I ask excitedly before trying to tamp it down.
“He’s making you sweat. That’s all.”
“Maybe. It’s annoying, though.”
I look over and see Eli talking to Tess. Their exchange appears heated.
My gaze wanders around the backyard before landing on Cal.
He’s watching me.
I jump slightly, caught looking for him.
He smirks before turning his back on me to speak with Homer.
Well, he’s being a dick tonight.
I’m not sure what else I expected. He’s been ignoring me for weeks.
Samantha gives a touching speech in memory of my aunt.
It almost brings me to tears and probably would have if I weren’t so damn angry.
I look around for my escape route, but Celeste has disappeared.
Damn it.
Someone must be sneaking extra alcohol into Tess’s drinks because she’s suddenly dancing around and hanging on Cal’s every word.
I’m beginning to think I need to call it a night.
I can’t stand here and watch him flirt with her.
I put down my drink and head inside to use the restroom.
The main one downstairs is occupied, so I go upstairs in search of another.
There has to be one.
As I sit on the toilet, a tear escapes.
I wipe it away.
I just want to go home.
A knock sounds on the bathroom door, making me jump.
“It’s occupied!” I yell.
I finish my business, wash my hands, and open the door.
I immediately run into a large chest.
The man attached to it pushes me back into the bathroom and closes the door behind him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
My grumbling cuts off when I see Cal towering over me.
I cross my arms.
“What do you want, Cal?” I ask, feeling tired and defeated.
He steps closer and cups my face with one hand.
“What’s going on with you, Sloane?”
“Why do you even care? You’re too busy to notice.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No, what’s not fair is you flirting with another woman at what is basically my aunt’s wake.”
He drops his hand and steps back.
“We never said we were exclusive, Sloane.”
I huff out a humorless laugh.
“That has been made very clear.”
I try to push past him, but he catches my arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home. I’ve had enough for tonight.”
“Wait. Come on, let’s talk.”
“Go talk to Tess. It looks like you could get lucky there.”
He steps back in shock.
The look he gives me is more hurt than anything. Then his eyes darken with anger.
“Maybe I will. Excuse me.”
He charges past me, leaving me standing there like an idiot.
Why did I say that?
I rush home, luckily managing an Irish goodbye, and storm into my aunt’s house.
I’m so fucking angry that I want to break everything.
I want to shatter something.
Ruin this whole house and this stupid life.
Fuck this street.
I kick off my shoes and charge into the kitchen, sweeping pots and glasses from the counter in a rage.
They crash against the floor.
I rip the ugly painting I’ve always hated off the wall and hurl it down.
The frame breaks apart, sending glass everywhere.
I grab the vase by the door and smash it against the floor.
Flowers scatter, and petals litter the room.
My gaze finds an open office credenza. I sweep my hand across it, sending papers, pens, and trinkets crashing to the ground.
“Ahh!”
I scream at the top of my lungs before sinking into the middle of the destruction and burying my face in my hands.
Why is life so hard?
Why is death so permanent?
I cry until my shoulders shake and my ribs ache from the force of it.
I fall into an almost catatonic state.
Nothing can pull me out.
Not the fact that I need to sleep. Not that I haven’t eaten. Not even the possibility that I might piss my pants right here.
I lie there until I feel so cold and empty that going to bed finally sounds worthwhile.
I crawl beneath the covers, praying tomorrow will be better.
It has to be better.
???
I drag myself out of bed with my head pounding from shitty sleep and a lack of water.
I don’t want to face the music today, but I refuse to let another man send me into this kind of rut.
I shower and get ready for the day, determined to clean up.
When I head downstairs, I stop and stare at the horror waiting for me.
My God.
In a complete rage last night, I destroyed half the house.
My aunt’s things and mine are everywhere. Papers cover the floor, along with shattered glass and broken picture frames.
I didn’t hold back.
I scrub a tired hand down my face and go in search of coffee and a broom.
I’m going to need both.
I work my way through most of the rooms and finally begin to make progress.
While gathering the scattered papers, I start placing them back inside the desk.
Then a name catches my eye.
Cal’s name is neatly written across an envelope in my aunt’s unmistakable cursive.
I freeze.
I know immediately that I shouldn’t read it.
That doesn’t stop me from grabbing my coffee and taking the letter to the couch.
When I realize the envelope is still sealed, I feel even guiltier.
He hasn’t even seen this yet.
I carefully open it.
My dearest Cal,
I can’t thank you enough for all the help you’ve given me around the house. It’s just me now, and I can’t get things done the way I used to.
I could never figure out why a young, handsome man like you spent so much time helping little old me, but eventually, I stopped questioning it.
You’re the type of man who helps everyone, and I know the cul-de-sac would be lost without you. I do get the feeling, though, that you’re either lost or lonely.
After watching you work on so many projects around here, it seems to me that perfection sometimes gets in the way of living.
I don’t know your full story because you haven’t shared it yet, but I sense you need a certain amount of control over your life and the people in it.
You may never read this. I’m not sure I’ll have the nerve to give it to you, but you are a great man, Cal. Don’t let perfection get in the way of living.