Chapter 30 Sloane #2
“Regardless of dramatics, if she doesn’t want to go with you, I’m not going to make her, so you can either A, give me your contact info and let me contact you later, then you can come pick her up from the station.
Or B, you can just walk away, and I’ll make sure she makes it home safely whenever she’s ready. ”
“Why are you being such a dick?” the man snaps, and I flinch, burying my face back into Beckett’s back.
“Sir, I’m going to ask you to leave,” Beckett says, no longer playing the nice guy.
“Whatever, dude,” the guy says, turning and walking away. It’s not until he disappears around the corner that Beckett turns to me and wraps his arms around me.
I collapse into him, my body just giving out as I’m finally safe.
“Come on, baby, let’s get you to the station,” he whispers. I nod, letting him guide me.
He takes Mocha’s leash while I throw away my matcha, my stomach feeling unsettled by it.
I lean against Beckett as I walk, my brain running through the last hour over and over again.
Replaying what happened, my thoughts shut down, my brain a mess.
I completely zone out. It’s not until I’m in Beckett’s office and he’s laying me down on the little couch in the corner that I snap out of whatever daze I’m in.
“It’s ok, baby, just breathe,” he whispers, sitting down on the edge of the couch, a mug of cocoa in one hand. The other brushes against my cheek, grounding me to the right now.
Nothing bad happened, but that doesn’t mean that it couldn’t have. Who knows what could have happened if he’d found me in the dark, if it had happened on my way into town or on my way back home, if I had taken a back road or something else.
“Hey, Sloane,” Beckett says, gently stroking my face with his thumbs. He sets the mug down on the table and takes my face with both hands instead of just one.
“He…he…” I can’t even seem to find any words.
“I know, baby, but he didn’t. You’re safe, you’re here with Mocha and me,” he says, using his thumbs to wipe away my tears.
“But if you weren’t…” I whisper, Mocha coming over and sitting next to the couch, resting his chin right next to my face. “You’re such a good boy,” I whisper, kissing his nose.
Mocha lets out a soft whimper and licks my face. I let out a sigh as I lie with my two protectors.
“He was willing to protect me; he put himself in the way,” I whisper, looking up at Beckett, then to my sweet boy.
“Good boy, Mocha,” Beckett says, one of his hands leaving my face as he lowers himself to the floor to sit next to our puppy and pets his fur affectionately before kissing the top of his head.
Mocha seems to soak up the affection and melts.
“I’m scared, Beck,” I whisper.
“I know, baby, but we don’t have to talk about it until you are ready. Take your time. There’s no rush,” he says, taking my hand and kissing the knuckles, his other hand still petting Mocha.
I nod my head and close my eyes for a few moments, taking some deep breathes and trying to calm myself down. While I am calmer because I know I am safe, the feeling that something bad could have happened doesn’t want to go away.
“Check social media, he was filming like he was going to post it, or maybe he was live,” I whisper, and when I open my eyes, Beckett’s just staring at me.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“He filmed our whole interaction as soon as we left the cafe. Also, I gave him Kaden’s number, so you might want to reach out to him and let him know what’s going on.
But I see it all the time, people posting negative fan interactions.
Trying to make influencers look bad. While I’ve only been recognized in public once, maybe twice, I’ve never had anything like this happen.
They usually just ask for a picture and go about their day. ”
He nods slowly, but he doesn’t look like he’s fully grasping what I’m telling him.
I sit up. He picks up the cocoa and offers it to me. I accept it and take a small sip. It’s lukewarm now, but it still comforts me as I pull my phone out of my shorts with shaky hands.
Beckett’s hand finds my thigh and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
I go to Loop first, and search: Sloane Monroe bad fan encounter.
Just like I was suspecting there are a few short videos circulating from this afternoon. The tears start to fall again as I hand the phone to Beckett. He takes the phone from me. One hand still offering comfort, while the other one scrolls through the videos and whatever else he can find.
I breathe slowly in through my nose, hold in for a few seconds, before breathing out through my mouth.
Mocha jumps up off the ground into my lap, and I cling to him, my fingers tangling into his soft fur.
His head’s on my shoulder, as I bury my face into his neck.
I grasp onto any kind of comfort that I can, my mind racing as the overthinking and the panic begin to take over.
“Just keep breathing, you’re doing so good,” Beckett comforts, his hand still gently resting on my thigh, offering whatever he can while he still does his job.
I let out a stifled sob into Mocha’s fur as I begin to cry once again. This time, it feels like the tears are never going to stop as I begin to drown inside my own thoughts.
Everything I learned in therapy, everything I’ve taught myself, everything that I tried so hard to forget the last three years, just going out the window.
I stare at Beckett with wide eyes, tears streaming down my face, until eventually I just fall asleep.