A guy could hope anyway.
I took Sloane up on her offer and raided the kitchen. I had to give her credit; for someone who lived alone, her kitchen was well stocked and packed a lot of variety. I went the easy route and made myself a sandwich, grabbed a bag of chips, and a water from the fridge. It was a nice day out––not too hot––so I opted to sit outside on the deck. Two lounge chairs and a small table in the middle were the only furniture the deck had to offer.
There wasn't another house––besides the ones for her team––for miles. Trees surrounded the entire area, giving seclusion vibes. Some might call it isolation, but I had a feeling it was a security blanket for the team.
"I thought I might find you back here." Beckett dropped into the other lounge chair and tossed a midsized duffel bag at my feet. "I think I got everything you asked for. I must say, I thought I was detail-oriented when it came to my clothes, but you take it to a whole new level."
I didn't bother to tell him it was a force of habit from my childhood. It was built out of necessity. My parents used every excuse under the sun to beat me, and I did everything I could to avoid it.
"It's a habit from work." I shrugged like it was no big deal.
"Do you like your job?"
I assumed he was talking about the garage I owned, and I didn't correct him. "It pays the bills. I have a hell of a lot more now than I did when I was younger. A day doesn't go by that I don't remember that."
Beckett bobbed his head. "That's a good way of looking at it. So tell me. How did you and Sloane meet?"
I settled further into the chair and brought back the memories that I’d shoved into a box nearly a decade ago. "I'm sure you know we didn't have the same upbringing. Sloane came from a very influential family, and my parents spent more time building up their rap sheet than taking care of me."
I rolled my neck side to side. "We didn't attend the same school either. Sloane's parents wouldn't let her be caught dead in a public school, but she wanted to build up her college résumé, so they allowed her to tutor at the local library for service hours. I struggled with reading––I'm dyslexic––and my school counselor cared enough to tell me about a free program at the library. I was paired with Sloane, and the rest is history."
"So a power imbalance, huh. Sounds scandalous."
The humor in his tone threw me for a loop. Beckett explained earlier he was a former federal agent. Most federal law enforcement officers I met were serious and rarely cracked a smile.
"Our entire relationship was a power imbalance. Sloane held all the power, and I would've done anything to make her happy. In the end, it didn't last, and once again, the ball is in her court. I'm just waiting to see how she reacts."
"I wish I could help you. Anita isn't one to gossip, and she's dead set on it being Sloane's story to tell. Even to me."
"Yeah, well, it doesn't seem like Sloane wants to share what happened with me."
I didn't actually think Beckett had any information, but it was good to know it wasn't just me she was hiding it from.
"Give her time. I think she'll surprise you."
Maybe so. But would the information drive us further apart or bring us closer?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SLOANE
No!
There was no way. The universe wouldn't be that cruel. There had to be a mistake.
MY OFFICE
I sent the text to Anita and stared at the information on my screen until she showed up.
"Is there a reason you're summoning me?"
All I could do was point to the screen. Words failed me. My brain was short-circuiting, and I was praying to a god I didn't believe in that my nightmare wasn't coming true.
"Well, fuck."
That was one way of putting it.
"Have you verified this information with Hawk?"