35. Sloan

CHAPTER 35

Sloan

W hy hasn't she responded?

Oh, Hecate, I fucked it up and scared her away.

"You fucking idiot," Sloan tells herself, smacking the heel of her hands against her forehead. Her stomach rolls with regret as she replays sending that text to Daisy in a moment of honesty. After that stupid fight with Franny, she wanted nothing more than to be with Daisy, but she knew it was too late to stop by. So instead, she sent a tiny message telling her the truth, and now she's scared Daisy off.

"Fuck this shit!" she says, standing abruptly. "I'm not going to sit and wait for a response." She grabs her purse and keys from the table and charges out the door, needing to be somewhere other than home.

After a little while of driving aimlessly, she finds herself outside of Taster's Delight. Deciding she could use a coffee and maybe a walk around town to help further clear her mind, she enters. Her eyes instantly find Daisy seated at a table with Petra and another gentleman. Petra catches her eye and smiles, which Sloan takes as an invitation to at least come and say hello. As she approaches the table, her insides roll with dread, like something bad is coming, while her magic thrums under her skin, warning her.

This can't be good.

"Hi, Sloan. So wonderful to see you," Petra says, greeting her pleasantly.

Daisy turns. Her face is a mask of surprise, quickly replaced by something else. Indifference, maybe?

"Hello. Sorry to interrupt. I was running in for a coffee and didn't expect to see you here," Sloan replies, rambling as if she has never spoken to anyone before. She turns her head, looking at everyone at the table, realizing the man beside Daisy is none other than the apple farmer himself, Barker.

"Nice to see you again, Sloan," Barker says.

Waves of nausea rise up Sloan's throat as she thinks about the last big argument she and Daisy had. The things she said to her about Barker and sucking him off. Goddess, she was horrible. And yet, here he sits with her, his arm along the back of her chair. Touching her. Her eyes carefully note every place where their bodies touch. How their knees are turned toward each other, how he lingers in her bubble, leaning forward to reach for his drink. Sloan swallows before she loses her lunch, along with her appetite.

"I sincerely don't mean to intrude," she says, looking down at Daisy, trying to determine if this was a date that Petra crashed or something else. She can't stick around to find out. No. She needs to leave. "I just wanted to stop and say hello." She turns to Daisy. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, and we can provide updates?"

"Sounds good," Daisy replies, refusing to look at her. It must be a date, then.

Sloan nods, her way of saying goodbye, and turns toward the counter. As she places her order and waits for it to be ready, she strains her hearing, hoping to catch some of the conversation at their table, but there's too much commotion in the shop. She picks up her order, looks toward their table again, raises her cup, plasters on the fakest of smiles, then heads out the door, the chime signaling her departure and the potential end of something before it had a chance to begin.

She wanders the surrounding streets in a bit of a daze, unsure of where she is going or why she is going there. Not until she stops and looks up does she realize her feet have taken her to the Bittersweet Acorn. She enters, hoping to see perhaps the only person who can talk some sense into her.

The broad shoulders and caramel hair tied back in a bun are a strange relief. "Sloan! What brings you to the Acorn?" Lachlan says, smiling brightly.

"I don't know. I was walking and then found myself standing outside," she says, sliding onto a stool at the bar.

He looks her over, likely noticing her disheveled hair from running her hands through it after leaving Daisy with Barker, or the mud on her shoes from stepping through puddles rather than avoiding them, or perhaps the coffee stain on the front of her sweater from when she went to take a sip and ran into a garbage can on the sidewalk instead. Yes, he probably sees how much of a mess she is.

His brow furrows as he takes her in. "You okay?"

She snorts, then covers her face, apparently now having lost all ability to remain collected. "I've been better," she mumbles into her hands.

A broad, warm hand softly grips her wrist, pulling her hands away from her face. She looks up to see his comforting, steely eyes gazing back at her, and she breaks. A flood of emotions wells up inside her as tears rise and overflow.

"Here," he says, handing her a couple of tissues. She wipes away her traitorous tears. "What's going on?" he asks. "Did Daisy do something?"

She breathes in deep through her nose and releases the breath slowly through her mouth, giving her time to compose herself. "Yes. Well, no." Lachlan does his best to hide his smirk, but Sloan still catches it. "Glad my pain is funny to you," she snips.

He clears his throat and his face. "Sorry. It's just, I know Daisy very well, and I'm not remotely surprised she did something to lead to this," he says, pointing at her.

"I don't think… or I hope she didn't maliciously do something. But after some rough moments, we finally found our stride and were having a good time together."

"Okay, so what's the problem?"

"I ran into her and Petra at Taster's…"

"And?" He asks.

"And there was someone else there. The owner of the orchard we visited a couple of weeks ago when we stayed at The Dandelion," she explains, wiping away a stray tear.

"Again, and?"

"And it seemed like they were on a date. He gave her his number that day, and I didn't expect anything to come from it because, as far as I knew, they hadn't talked since. But I guess I was wrong."

He steps back, mimicking fluffing a sheet in the air.

"What are you doing?"

"Rolling out your jumping-to-conclusions mat."

Sloan glares at him. "Fuck off."

Lachlan smirks at her momentarily, enjoying his little joke before narrowing his eyes at her. "Why would it matter if they were on a date?" he asks. Only as he finishes the question, his eyes spring wide, realization dawning. "Fucking Hades, you like her, don't you? Like, like her, like her!"

"What are you, twelve?" Sloan groans, burying her face in her folded arms on the bar top.

"You fucking do! How the hell did that happen?" he asks excitedly, like a vampire with a fresh cup of blood before them.

"Shut up!" she grumbles.

He laughs at her misfortune. How the hell did she end up here, so worked up over Daisy having coffee with some random demon?

Lachlan composes himself. Mostly. "Seriously, though. You two despise each other and have for as long as I've known you, or at least of you. What changed?"

She raises her head, leaning back in the chair. Sloan picks up another tissue and starts running it through her fingers. "The Dandelion. That's what changed."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when I took Petra's place that weekend, thanks to our little plan, we fought a ton, but we also managed to talk. And I think we realized there's been a lot of misunderstanding. There's also been a lot of miscommunication, or at least different ways of communicating. We talked about our past, and after working through some of our differences, I convinced her to give me a chance. She did. And we have been spending some time together, and yeah, I fucking like her."

"Has anything else happened between you two?" he asks, eyebrow cocked.

Sloan looks down at her hands, needing to avoid his knowing gaze. "Maybe."

Lachlan howls a laugh as he slams a fist on the bar top. "This is great! This is fucking great! Does Petra know?"

"I don't know. Please don't say anything to her. I don't want to cause trouble between her and Daisy."

"Fair," he says, smirking annoyingly at her. "You care about her, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," Sloan confesses, breathing out heavily, realizing she may more than care for Daisy. But she can't unpack that yet. Not until she knows if there is something reciprocated. Putting herself out there, risking being broken apart, is too much.

"You should tell her," he says as if it's that simple.

"Maybe." She leans her head back, releasing a frustrated groan.

His voice softens as he leans onto the bar top, ensuring she looks at him. "Listen. Teasing aside, I know how challenging it is to have feelings for someone and feel that it is unrequited. But you'll never know if you don't acknowledge those feelings. On top of that, the whole friends-with-benefits thing doesn't work if you've already got feelings mixed in there. You're opening yourself to a world of hurt that way. You need to talk to her. Sooner rather than later, to see if you're on the same page—or still on the same page."

She sniffles, knowing what he's saying makes sense. But coming from a family like hers, where emotions were frowned upon, and success was measured in connections and favors, not happiness, she has always found personal conversations a challenge. Perhaps the new Sloan, who is trying to be more caring and open to opportunities, needs to realize that happiness isn't given; it's earned. And to earn it, she needs to break free of her family's constraints and rules.

"Thanks," she says. "I kind of hate that you were the one to see me break down, but I appreciate your time."

He laughs lightly. "Sloan, I would like to consider you a friend, and friends are always here to support each other. Come by anytime."

"Thanks," she says again, pushing off the stool and standing, feeling more composed than she has all day. "Friends. Hmm. I like the sound of that." She smiles at him, nods, then turns on her heel and leaves.

Who needs a therapist when you have Lachlan Grace?