Page 94 of It Happened on a Sunday
But the last thing I want is for Sloane to see any of the ugliness inside me, so I just grit my teeth and force myself to finish. “Anyway, he showed up at the hospital room, and my sister was terrified, and I…I didn’t take it well.”
“I hope you ripped his fucking head off,” Sloane growls.
“Not quite, much to my regret. I did, however, engineer it so that he took the first two shots at me right in front of a camera. And then I beat the hell out of him. This time, when the cops came, they took him away. And he hasn’t touched my sister since.”
“Is he in prison?” She sounds more resigned than hopeful, which tells me everything I need to know about how she feels about how well this country’s justice system protects women.
“He got probation.” She snorts like it’s nothing more than she expected. “And he still plays football.”
“What?” Now her mouth really does drop open. “Seriously? He still plays? But that means…” She freezes as the reality of the situation dawns on her. “You still have to see this bastard?”
“Once a year. Sometimes twice, depending on who makes it to the playoffs.”
“Poor Lucia,” she whispers, and the fact that she thinks of my sister makes me fall just a little bit harder. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not right,” I tell her. “But at least it gives my defense the chance to take his ass down every single play. Two years ago, he had to be carried off the field before the first half was over. Last year, they didn’t even put him in.”
“Well, that seems like cheating.”
“You’re telling me.” I didn’t think it was possible to ever smile when I told this story, but seeing how bloodthirsty Sloane looks right now makes it a little easier. Especially when I know all that anger and vengeance is on behalf of Lucia.
“How is she now?” Sloane asks.
“She’s doing great, actually. She’s in law school, volunteering at a women’s shelter, and dating someone she seems to really like.”
“So, better than you.”
“I don’t know about that.” I push the residual pain down deep and focus on Sloane instead. “I do have a very naked SloaneWalker in my lap right now.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” It’s my turn to lift a brow.
“That slow-smile thing that gets you everything you want.”
“Who wouldn’t be smiling in my position?” I slide my hands around to her bare ass and squeeze just a little to make my point.
She responds by slapping a playful hand on my chest. “I’m serious! You don’t have to front with me about this. About anything.”
I wait until she stops squirming and looks me in the eye. Only then do I say, “Back atcha.”
She freezes for a second, her whole body tensed as if bracing for a blow.
But then she slowly, painstakingly relaxes one muscle at a time. “Fair enough.”
“Good.” I kiss her again, and this time I put a little heat into it.
When we break the kiss a couple of minutes later, she looks dazed. And more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her.
“Let me get you to bed,” I say, lifting Sloane up and rolling over so I can tuck her under the covers.
She squirms the whole way, but she’s laughing, too, so I figure it’s okay.
“It’s ridiculous how strong you are.” She looks astonished as she yanks the sheet over herself.
“They expect me to throw a football close to eighty yards,” I answer. “I need some power to do that.”
I start to get up, but she wraps an arm around my waist and holds me in place. “Can you stay a little longer?”
