I held up my hands in surrender, then motioned for her to carry on. She waited a moment before sitting back in the chair and folding her arms across her chest.
“Like I was saying, I’m pissed. Waverly and I knew something bad happened to you, but this? My God, Duncan. We could’ve been there for you, just like you’ve been there for us. We could’ve, I don’t know, pushed harder? I feel like I’ve failed you somehow. Friends don’t let friends suffer in silence.”
“Have you been watching the Hallmark Channel again?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Thanks.” I grinned wide. “In all seriousness, I appreciate you coming here, but I’m good. Better than good, actually.”
“Oh, yeah? Then how do you plan to win Sloane back?”
“She told me to be myself.”
Shayne threw her head back and roared with laughter.
“You’re fucked.”
Sloane
During dinner, we started the process of laying old ghosts to rest. It was cathartic, yet draining, like emotionalquicksand. The more I struggled to comprehend the whys of what happened to us, the faster I sank into despair. Until I realized it was useless. I’d never find logic in betrayal, only deep-seated pain.
Our conversation went through a horde of peaks and valleys, lasting well into the twilight hours. At some point I excused myself to the bathroom, returning to find Duncan sprawled out on the couch, dead to the world. I called his name and when he didn’t respond, I did what any normal woman in my position would do. I turned into a level five creeper. For longer than I cared to admit, I stared, unable to look away from his sleeping form. Even my cell phone pinging with a text didn’t interrupt my stalkerish ways. When it rang though, it startled me to the point my behind fell out of the seat onto the floor.
Using as much dignity as I could muster with a sore bum, I hobbled to the kitchen, grabbed the phone off the counter, then retreated to my bedroom to return Waverly’s call.
“Hey,” she answered in a whisper.
“Are they okay?”
“They fell asleep in the car.”
“Oh,” I chuckled. “I’m not surprised. They were on the wilder side of feral all afternoon.”
She gasped, “Not my perfect angels.”
“Check their heads. You can’t miss the nubs where the horns are sprouting.”
We shared a quiet laugh.
“Finn will bring them in when we get there.”
“You should know, Duncan’s still here. He took a page out of their book it seems.”
“He’s asleep?”
My brother grumbled something indiscernible in the background.
“Sure is. On my couch. In fact, you may need to arrest me.”
“Sloane Beckington. What did you do?” Her voice rose a half an octave.
“Nothing yet. It’s the ‘yet’ I’m afraid of.”
“How did everything go?”
“Really good.” A lump formed in my throat. “I’m in trouble, Way.”
“Love is the best kind of trouble, sweetie.”