Page 59 of His Red Carnation

I woke up with a text from Jake.There’s a warrant for your arrest. Sarah claims you sexually assaulted her.

I found myself on trial in the military court. Sarah put up a convincing front—she had friends testify that I was a fucking monster. They presented texts where I called her a stupid fucking cunt, a worthless bitch, an evil slut. I was angry, but she had hurled far worse insults at me. Even in my drunken state, I never laid a hand on her. We had rough sex, but she asked for everything we did.

But then pictures of bruises surfaced as evidence. I had no fucking idea how she got them. I’ll admit, I blacked out morethan once when we were drinking, but I knew I’d never hit her—I wasn’t that much of a scumbag. The bruises spanned several days, covering the last few months of our relationship. She claimed I’d blacked out and tossed her around like a punching bag. People were shocked—they sided with her, convinced that the fucking junkie with tattoos and muscles was the monster she made me out to be.

Yet somehow, I was acquitted. The officers judging my case listened to character witnesses on my behalf, including Jake’s. They saw the evidence of Sarah’s verbal abuse through texts and voicemails. I lost rank, but I only had a few months left until my enlistment was up. And then I ran.

That’s when I went back to Philly and lost everything. I never got clean. I traveled around with my tent and a single bag of belongings, using any spare change I had to buy booze. I lost all track of time, and by the time I was suicidal, two years had passed. That’s when I called Jake. He had been searching for me since I disappeared off the radar. Thank fuck I remembered his number; otherwise, I probably would have ended my life. He got me into rehab, helped me with money when I got out, and then set me up with a decent job.

And now, here I was, sitting alone in my DC apartment after he just clocked me in the face. I deserved it. After everything he did for me, I repaid him by fucking his daughter. What the fuck was I thinking? But Sloane was the most perfect person I had ever laid eyes on. It wasn’t just her beauty—I was in love with her intelligence, her quick wit, and her sweetness. And she loved me. I didn’t deserve her. I knew I had to cut out the misogynistic bullshit, but it was true: everyone could see it—she was too good, too pure, too fucking perfect for me.

I was spiraling.Where the fuck is Sloane?I texted her with shaky hands:Everything okay? Where are you?

I stared at my phone for a full five minutes before tossing it onto the couch and gazing out the window. Across the street was a mini market, and I craved whiskey so fucking badly. I needed to know where Sloane was and what Jake was telling her. With how quick he was to badmouth me, I had no doubt he was dragging up Sarah’s name. Now I looked guilty as fuck for not telling Sloane sooner.

I picked up my phone again—still nothing. Sighing, I grabbed my wallet, took the elevator down, and walked to the mini market across the street.

25

Sloane

“What?” Tears streamed down my face. “Callan wouldn’t do that.”

“Jake…you can’t be serious,” Mom said, her voice filled with disbelief.

Dad shrugged, shaking his head. “He was acquitted, partly thanks to me. His ex-girlfriend who accused him wasn’t a good person, so it was clear she was lying. But now…now that he’s done this, I don’t know if I ever really knew Callan at all. I can’t be sure if he was guilty or not.”

My heart dropped. “So…hedidn’tdo it, though. He was accused, but he didn’t do it,” I said, mostly to reassure myself.

“Jake, how could you keep this from me?” Mom asked harshly. “Sarahdid all of that?”

I shook my head at both of them. “Sarah?”

Mom frowned at me, then turned back to Dad. “Answer me, Jacob.”

Dad nodded.

“Well then he definitely didn’t do it. Sarah was crazy!” Mom threw her hands in the air. “That woman was no good.”

Dad shook his head at her and shrugged. “AndCallanisn’t crazy? The fucking ex-junkie drunk who I had to save off the streets all those years ago? The one who is now fucking our daughter?” He was yelling and talking about me like I wasn’t right in front of him.

“Dad!” I butt in. “He’s not justfuckingme, as you so eloquently put it. It’s not even about that,” I argued.

His face turned red. I wasn’t sure if he ever heard me sayfuckbefore.

“What’s it about then, huh? How do you haveanythingin common with a man twenty years older than you?” I could tell he was trying to remain calm.

I crossed my arms. “What exactly do you have in common with Mom?” I challenged him.

“Your mother isn’t twenty years younger than me, Sloane,” he disputed.

“What does that even matter, Dad? Shouldn’t all that matter is that I’m happy?”

Dad scoffed and put his hands to his head, exasperated.

Mom sighed. “Let’s all just take a few minutes to ourselves, okay? Let’s all calm down and collect our thoughts,” she suggested.

I immediately perked up, wanting to go find Callan, needing his side of the story. Dad shook his head and pointed at me, as if sensing the shift in my energy.

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