He ran his tongue over his teeth. Oh, he knew he was being a douche, but he didn’t know how to stop it. He hadn’t been able to stop many things recently, and yet he just kept making mistakes. Kept getting closer and closer to Hailey, knowing he’d be the one to hurt her eventually. He’d stayed away from her for a reason at first, then made sure to keep his feelings in check when he hadn’t been able to be away anymore.
Now he’d put himself in the center of something that was rightly none of his business. A small part of him didn’t care, and that part wanted her to be his until the end of days. But the rational part of his mind knew he needed to stay away. It would be better for everyone if he just kept to himself and kept Hailey on her side of the wall.
But he’d fucked that up.
Truly.
“You’re not going to say anything?” Maya asked. She searched his face, and this time, he didn’t see anger, he saw disappointment. Nothing cut him quicker than seeing that in the eyes of his friends. “I want you happy, Sloane. Why can’t you see that?”
“I could say the same about you,” he said without thinking.
Her eyes widened for a moment, her face paling. “You know what? The hell with it. I’m done. Hurt yourself, block off any emotion you think you could have, but if you hurt Hailey any more than you already have, I’ll kick you in the balls.”
With that, she stormed off, and he closed his eyes, cursing himself. Maya had her own issues and he shouldn’t have brought it up, even in the vaguest of senses. Friends didn’t do that, didn’t dig the knife deeper when they knew the other was hurting.
Yet Sloane kept messing things up.
“Why don’t you go for a walk or go sketch?” Austin asked quietly. “Take a breather.”
Sloane let out a breath and gave a tight nod. Montgomery Ink was his family, and he had to remember that. He’d been dancing around what Hailey meant to him, what he wanted her to mean to him, for far too long, and now he had to deal with the consequences. The others had always known there might be something brewing between the two of them, but now he’d done something blatant about that…connection.
And as soon as Hailey found out about what he’d done, he’d be in for it.
He closed the office door behind him and let out a sigh, running a hand over his face. Then he sat down at the main desk and traced his finger over the edge of his sketchbook. He’d been an artist for as long as he could remember, though he’d never thought of himself as such. He’d been good with a pencil since he’d been a kid and yet had always held it close to the vest. He hadn’t wanted the others to know what he could do. Not when a weakness such as art could mean a fist.
He’d learned long ago that his fingers were better for triggers than graphite and ink.
Or so his father had told him.
His skin tightened and he clenched his jaw, forcing his breath to come in even pants rather than the shallow ones his lungs seemed to want to do. His chest constricted and he rubbed his fist over his heart.
He stuck his ear buds in his ears and turned on some alt-rock that didn’t have too much bass and had the lead singer’s soothing croons instead of lyrical whining about lost hearts and lack of empathy. Sloane needed to calm down before he had another anxiety attack. He’d never had one in the middle of the shop, but he’d been damn close before. It’d been a decade since he’d been in the service, and yet he could still hear the yells, the shots that never seemed to go away. If he took deep breaths and focused on drawing, he could calm himself enough that he wouldn’t break out in a cold sweat. If he beat back the pain, he wouldn’t vomit on the floor, wouldn’t smash his hand into the drywall because he didn’t know another form of release.
Sloane nodded to the beat as he forced his eyes open. His hands once again traced the sketchbook before he opened it, pencil in hand. He had a few drawings to finish so they were ready for clients, as well as things on his mind he could just draw for relaxation, but his mind wouldn’t focus.
Couldn’t focus.
A hand touched his shoulder and he whirled around, standing in one breath, his hand raised, the pencil poised as a weapon. The beat of the music increased, as did the sound of his heart.
Hailey stood in front of him, her eyes wide, one hand on her chest, the other out in front of her.
Protecting herself.
From him.
This was why he wasn’t for her.
This was why he’d stayed away.
He’d only hurt her. Only lose her to the demons that plagued him.
“What?” he bit out, pulling the ear buds from his ears.
She took a step back at the sound of his voice.
Sloane let out a breath. “Shit. I didn’t mean to scare you. You just startled me.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “I can see that.” She licked her lips and put her hands down, fisting them at her sides. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He froze, not knowing what to say. Had she seen the panic in his gaze? Seen the fact that he wasn’t whole? That he was damaged goods…far too broken for a woman like her?
“Why did Brody tell me to ‘take it up with Sloane’ when he said he wasn’t interested in me?” she continued.
He swallowed hard, the short burst of relief that she hadn’t seen the truth of him quickly replaced with the damning feeling he’d messed up.