“I’ll go downstairs and see about throwing together something to eat,” she told me and stood up from the chair. “While I do that, you can clean up, then come downstairs to put something other than whiskey into your system.”
There was no missing the level of disdain in her voice, but her expression told a different story altogether. She was looking at me with a mix of sadness and pity. I turned away from her, embarrassed by my behavior. I didn’t deserve her sympathy. I only had myself to blame.
After she went downstairs, I slowly made my way to the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, I stripped down, then stepped under the showerhead. Bracing myself against the tiled wall with two hands, I let the water stream over me and tried to think of a way to rationalize what happened with Kallie. I knew I’d been awful to her during my drunken rage. If being an asshole was an art form, I’d mastered it. After the way I’d treated her, I owed her an explanation.
Once I was showered and dressed, I felt significantly better but not great. Making my way downstairs, I found a steaming cup of coffee and a bottle of water sitting on the kitchen table. Kallie walked toward me, carrying two plates with sandwiches and potato chips. After she set the plates down on the table, I inspected the food more carefully. One sandwich was piled high with salami, and the other appeared stacked with lettuce and tomatoes only.
“A lettuce and tomato sandwich?” I asked in confusion.
“I had to make do with what was in the fridge. No worries. I didn’t expect to find Tofurky in your house,” she said with a laugh. “Just think of it as a BLT without the B.”
“That can’t possibly taste good.”
“Not my favorite, but it’s fine for now. You also have some blocks of cheese in there. I can cut that up if either of us is still hungry after we have this. Now, sit. Eat,” she ordered and pointed to the food on the table.
After we both took a seat, I watched her from the opposite side of the table as she sprinkled salt and pepper on the tomatoes, then dug into the blandest sandwich imaginable like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. I shook my head and picked up my salami on rye.
“What are you doing here? I mean, I thought you were going to Napa Valley with your friend, Gabby.”
“I caught a flat tire, so plans changed. It’s quite the tale, to be honest,” she added with a laugh. “But I think it was fated. After Colton called, I—”
“Colton?” I interrupted. “Why did he call you?”
“I mentioned it to you earlier, but you must have forgotten. Colton is the reason I came here today. He was worried about you after the crash you witnessed yesterday.”
I pressed my lips together in a tight line, annoyed to know Colton had needlessly bothered her.
“He shouldn’t have worried. I’m fine.”
She arched up one eyebrow, her expression skeptical.
“Are you really?”
I wasn’t, but I didn’t want to get into it with her. Instead of answering, I focused on eating. Following my lead, she did the same. Neither of us said a word until the food had been cleared from our plates. Decidedly done, Kallie pushed her plate away and sat back in her chair. Her bright green eyes looked thoughtful, and I could sense her hesitancy before she finally spoke.
“Sloan, I want you to tell me about your accident—and I don’t mean the technical stuff I can read about online. I want to know more details about the pain you experienced from your injuries, the rehab, your feelings during that time, and all the rest. I should have pushed you to tell me before now, but I allowed my personal feelings to get in the way. As your agent, I need to know every tiny detail—including the details about the argument you had with your mother over your father.”
My head snapped up in surprise, suddenly remembering what she’d said about me not being like my father. In my drunken stupor, I couldn’t focus enough to press her on it. But now I was more than ready to.
“How the hell do you know about that?” I demanded.
She blinked, and it was easy to see she was shocked by the coolness in my voice. For me, it was an automatic response. Talking about the accident and my parents stirred up an ache I’d spent a year trying to bury. When she eventually spoke, it was apparent she was choosing her words carefully.
“How I know doesn’t matter. Your feelings about it are all I care about. I only know a little of the story—and certainly not enough to protect you from any negative press. People talk, but I want to hear the whole thing from you. If I understand, maybe I can help you rewrite the stars.”
I nearly scoffed.
Rewrite the stars. Right.
I closed my eyes, knowing I should never have expected a mundane response from someone like her. She wasn’t built that way. There was always a deeper meaning.
“Kallie, I really don’t want to talk about it. I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to forget it.”
“Maybe that’s why you can’t get past it and why you got so drunk last night. Maybe youneedto talk about it.”
“Kallie… I can’t.”
She moved over to sit in the chair next to me and placed her hand on my knee. She peered up at me, and I found myself mesmerized by the intensity in her eyes. Her touch could calm the monster inside of me trying to break free. She made me a different person—a better person.
