Page 61 of His Red Carnation

Mom held my hand as we walked toward the row of SUVs. She waved over one of her guards, pointing to one of the vehicles. “I need you to drive Sloane somewhere safely.” She turned to me with wide, nervous eyes. “Baby, tell him where to go, okay?”

I wanted to cry even more; I was so thankful for my mom at that moment.

“Thank you, Mom.” My lip quivered as I reached for a hug. She wrapped her arms around me snugly and gently rubbed my back.

“I’m here for you, okay, baby? Please let me know when you get there.” She let go, kissed my cheek, and stormed back into the house. I was afraid for Leo and Julian and the wrath they would endure from her.

The guard, whom I hadn’t spoken to much, opened the door for me and took my bag. He set it in the back, and then we were on our way. I gave him directions to Callan’s apartment, and ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of his building. Worry consumed me as I stared down at my phone, waiting for a response from Callan.

“Ma’am, can I carry your bag for you?” the guard asked as he opened my door.

“No, thanks.” I smiled and took my bag, heading for the lobby.

I pushed the button for Callan’s floor and waited, my heart racing.Why hasn’t he responded? Will he even be home?

I raised my shaky hand and knocked on the door. After a moment of silence, I knocked again, straining to hear any movement inside the apartment.

“Sloane.”

Relief flooded through me at the sound of his voice, but it quickly shifted to worry as I turned around. Callan stood there, his eyes unfocused, wobbling slightly with a brown paper bag in his hand. I could smell the alcohol on him from a few feet away.

“Cal,” I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. “Come here.” I dropped my bag and opened my arms.

His face twisted into a frown as he slowly approached me. He began to sob, and I wrapped my arms around him, crying with him. Had being with me driven him to this? Had his guilt overtaken his strength to stay sober? Even more guilt hit me as I rubbed gentle circles on his back.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go inside,” I finally said, not wanting to let him go.

“I’m no good for you, baby girl. You shouldn’t be here,” he slurred.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. Remember? You’re stuck with me,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood as he released me.

He shook his head, tears still streaming down his face. “Look at you. Then look at me. How does this make sense?”

I tried not to let it sting; I knew it was the alcohol talking.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go inside,” I repeated, pulling him toward the door.

He wobbled beside me. “It’s open, I think.”

I twisted the knob and the door swung open. Relieved, I grabbed my bag and pulled Callan inside with me.

“Let’s make you some coffee,” I said, setting my bag down in the kitchen and beginning to open his cabinets.

The stool near the kitchen island dragged on the floor as Callan tried to sit on it. “My sweet fucking baby. Why do you love me?” he asked, taking another swig from the paper bag.

“Can I have that, please?” I asked, pointing at the bag.

He looked down at it, as if surprised it was in his hand, then held it up, offering it to me. I immediately took it from him and poured the contents down the sink.

“Baby, you just wasted it,” he slurred softly, watching the alcohol swirl away.

“Why don’t we go lay down?” I suggested, hoping to change the subject.

He groaned. “Sloane, you’re so fucking perfect. Am I taking advantage of you? Am I just a disgusting pervert corrupting your beautiful innocence?”

I sighed, resisting the urge to roll my eyes—I knew he was carrying the weight of my dad’s words.

“Do you think you could take advantage of someone that fucked your ass last night?” I asked lightly.

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