Page 66 of His Red Carnation

“Sarah lives here. I wanted to talk to her. That’s why I suggested Baltimore. I’m sorry, Callan,” I said, my voice muffled through my helmet and my eyes squeezed shut as I clung to his torso.

I felt his body tense. “Sloane…”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, tears spilling instantly. “I just wanted to hear her side of it. I needed to know. I’m so sorry, baby.” My words came out in a desperate rush.

He let out a deep sigh, his hands resting over mine, allowing me to cry. After a moment, he reached up, removed his helmet, and slowly stood, pulling me away from him. I looked up as he ran a hand through his hair, his forehead creased and an unmistakable frown darkening his face.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, my shoulders slumping in defeat.

He sighed again, quieter this time. “Come on, Sloane. Let’s get a room and talk.” He held out his hand, and I reluctantly stood, pulling my helmet off and placing my hand in his. Once I was on my feet, he led the way into the lobby, rented a room for the night, and we headed up the stairs together.

We walked into our small room with a king-sized bed in the middle, with a TV and dresser directly across from it. Nestled in the corner was a small armchair and lamp. Callan tossed the keycard on the dresser and sat at the foot of the bed with his head hung low.

“Why do you want to talk to Sarah?” he asked quietly, looking down at his hands.

I slowly walked toward the bed and sat down next to him. “I just…I want to hear her side of the story. Maybe she’ll admit that she lied,” I thought aloud.

He looked up at me with pain in his eyes. “And if she doesn’t? What if she tells you that I beat her senseless? Are you gonna believe her?” Tears filled his eyes, and I began to hate myself.

I shook my head. “She’s not going to. She’s gonna tell the truth. She’s sober now—she works at a rehab center,” I blurted out. If I was being honest with him, I wanted him to know what I’d been up to.

His eyes widened and he shook his head. “How do you know all of this? How did you find her?”

I looked down at the floor. “My mom told me.” Guilt continued to sting in my chest.

Callan was silent and I couldn’t stand it. I began to cry as I put my face in my hands, hating the doubt that had planted itself inside my mind. I felt Callan’s arm wrap around my shoulders, which made me cry harder; I didn’t deserve to be comforted, not after lying to him like this.

“Alright,” he said after my sobs slowed. “Go talk to her. Go do what you need to do.”

I looked up at him in surprise. He stared down at me, his eyes filled with pain and sadness.

“Callan—”

“Just go, Sloane. If you need to talk to her to fucking believe me, then do it,” he said harshly, letting go of me and standing up.

Fuck, what have I done?“Callan,” I repeated, but he walked away and slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.

I sat there, stunned. I got myself into this mess—now I need to get out of it.I had to talk to Sarah now, whether I wanted to or not. The mere fact that Callan was intent on me talking to her for the truth only strengthened my opinion that he wasn’t guilty of hurting her.

I looked over at the bathroom door, then I took my phone out and ordered an Uber. My destination: Sarah’s place of work.

28

Callan

I couldn’t tell what hurt more—the fact that the love of my life doubted my character, or that even I was starting to doubt myself. I had been so certain I hadn’t done it, but the mere fact that I blacked out that night made me question everything. What if Ididhurt her? What kind of man would that make me? And what would Sloane think? What would she do? Would she leave me? Would she forgive me? Could I even forgive myself? The guilt from that time in my life consumed me—what if I really did hurt Sarah? What the fuck would I do then?

After a few minutes of sulking in the bathroom, I heard the front door open and close. I knew that Sloane had left.Fucking Ana. I knew it wasn’t fair to be angry at her, but I was. As I spiraled with my fucking guilt, I dialed her. She answered after a few rings.

“Callan,” she said, surprise clear in her voice.

“Guess where Sloane and I are right now? Baltimore. Wanna know why?” I paused for a moment, but continued. “Sloane thinks I fucking did it. She thinks I’d hurt someone like that.” I began to cry, the phone shaking in my hand as I brought my elbows to my knees, trying to pull myself together.

“Oh, Callan,” Ana replied softly. “She doesn’t think that. You know what I think? I think she wants to talk to Sarah to clear your name. She wants to make this right.”

I scoffed. “Nah. She thinks I’m a piece of shit. And Sarah does too. I know what she’s gonna say, and everything’s gonna end because she’s a fucking liar,” I spat out. “Or maybe she’s not. Maybe I did fucking hurt her because I can’t remember.” Tears welled up again. The amount of crying I’d done in the past week made my head fucking spin—it was more than I’d ever cried in my life.

“Do you really think that, Callan? You think you did that?” Ana asked with frustration.

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