There was something wrong with him and he knew it. He had to talk with someone because not doing so would only make things worse. For Hailey.
There wasn’t much he could do about how he felt about himself at this point. As soon as he finished her ink, he’d find a way to let her go so she wouldn’t end up hurt because of him. Once she knew how he’d come to be, how he’d ended up in Montgomery Ink, she’d see. It wasn’t fair to keep at it, to keep having her in his arms. He’d already told himself that he wouldn’t sleep with her again—even if his body ached for it. It made him an asshole to keep having her with him, knowing he couldn’t keep her. Yes, it was better for Hailey in the long run not to be with a man such as him, but it didn’t make it any easier.
“Sloane?” Callie came up to him, her hand on the barely noticeable bump at her center. “There’s a man outside asking for you.” She bit her lip. “I don’t think he wants to come inside, but I was out there trying to get some fresh air and saw him.”
Sloane’s senses went on alert. “Who was it? Are you okay? Should you be going outside alone in your condition?”
Callie shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “You sound like Morgan. I’m fine going outside in the daylight. I promise. But I don’t know his name. He only said he wanted to talk to you.” She took a deep breath. “He’s wearing a uniform, Sloane. But it’s old and dirty. He also looks strung out, but I don’t exactly know. It could be that he’s homeless and tired, but it seemed a bit more than that.”
Sloane froze at her description then cursed. “Don’t go outside, Callie. Stay here with Austin and Maya. Okay?”
She frowned at him. “Who is it, Sloane? What has you so worried?”
He lowered his head and kissed her temple. “Just be safe, Callie. I’ll go outside and see what it is. If it’s a drugged-out guy, though, I don’t want you anywhere near him.” Nor did he want Hailey anywhere near him, but he couldn’t say that without drawing attention to the issue. If Callie were worried about him, she’d bring Hailey over and then he wouldn’t be able to hide his past anymore.
And he needed to in order to keep Hailey untainted.
He left a confused Callie in the office and made his way to the front of the store, aware that Maya and Austin were watching him. He ignored them and walked outside in just his Henley, picking up his leather jacket from the hook at the front of the store on his way.
The hauntingly slender man in front of him was a blast from the past. The guy was a few years younger than Sloane, but looked at least fifteen years older. It didn’t look like he’d shaved in over a year, nor did it appear as if he’d cut his hair. Normally a buzz cut, it brushed the top of his shoulders and hadn’t been washed in far too long.
He wore an old uniform, as well as a threadbare jacket that hadn’t belonged to him in the past. He shifted from foot to foot, his attention on the sky above them.
“Jason.” Sloane’s voice was gruff, but firm. He didn’t know why the man was here today, but damn it, it tore at him that Jason was like this.
If it weren’t for luck and some determination, he’d be right by Jason’s side, living on the street, strung out and in pain.
“Ever wonder what it feels like to fly?” Jason asked, his eyes still on the clouds.
Dread filled Sloane’s belly and he did his best to keep his voice calm. “I used to, but I found I like my feet firmly planted on the ground.”
Jason met his gaze and Sloane wanted to break down. The man wasn’t high, far from it. Instead, his old friend, the man he would have died for, the man he’d almost died for, felt everything. There weren’t enough drugs in the world to hide the pain of what Jason was feeling—of what Sloane felt every day. Callie had been right in thinking it could be a lack of sleep that led to the look of him, and now Sloane knew that was true. Jason may have used in the past, but it had never been something he constantly did.
“If my feet are on the ground, then I know theirs aren’t.”
Sloane held back a curse as bile rose in his throat. “They might not have boots on the ground, but we’re here, Jason.”
“And they aren’t. You still dream of them? Still dream of the burning. Because I do. That’s why I don’t sleep, you see. Because if I sleep, they’re louder. Now they’re just whispers, telling me I should move on. Telling me I should stay. It doesn’t make sense, Sloane. Why doesn’t it make any sense?”