Page 31

Callum ran a hand through his hair as he left the station. He was still in his clothes from the accident scene. He’d scrubbed his hands, but he hadn’t wanted to even take the time to shower.

He couldn’t find Sloane.

He’d called the bus and train station in Reddington City, and they’d fortunately been willing to provide info, despite his not having any sort of warrant. Nobody by the name of Sloane Miller had purchased a ticket.

Maybe she’d taken off using Annie’s car? Hell, maybe Annie had even given her permission to do so. Swinging by to talk to Annie face-to-face would be his next stop. Not only about the car but about the pregnancy. Annie couldn’t talk to him about Sloane specifically, but maybe she’d talk about stuff in general .

Because now that the initial shock of the news was wearing off, he was realizing there were more important questions he should be focusing on than the dumbass things he’d asked this afternoon.

How did this happen? and Why hadn’t she told him right away? didn’t matter.

And How do I even know if it’s mine? should never ever have been uttered into the universe. Callum knew the baby was his, despite what he’d said in that moment of total overwhelm.

No, the important questions at hand were: were Sloane and the baby healthy? What could he do to make sure Sloane didn’t miscarry like Amelia had? How could he best help Sloane overall?

How could he find Sloane?

Since he hadn’t had much success through legal channels—his BOLO for Annie’s car not returning any responses yet—he decided to move on to not-quite-as-legal channels.

Namely, Lincoln.

Because at the end of the day, Callum needed to know Sloane and the baby were okay. Safe. Even if she never wanted to talk to him again.

Lincoln would be the fastest way to get the info he needed. He dialed the number of the younger man.

“Sheriff.” Lincoln answered by way of greeting.

“Linc, I need you to find someone for me, quickly. It’s important.”

“I’m out with the guys, not at my computer, but I can head that way. What can you tell me about the person?”

Callum hated to disrupt the man’s plans, but he was still going to do it. “I need you to find Sloane. She left sometime this afternoon, and I don’t know where she’s gone.”

“Callum…”

He ran his hand through his hair again. “Look, I get it. This is obviously not a legal matter, and I’m probably crossing a line.”

“Yeah, but I don’t?—”

“Linc, I’ve never asked you to do something like this without a good reason. I need to find her. Please, do your computer magic.”

He was damned near begging, but he didn’t even care. Every second Sloane was gone, the more his imagination played with all the danger she could be in.

What if she’d decided to fucking hitchhike again? And where was she even going to go? Back to the Gettys?

She had a little bit of money, thanks to how hard she’d been working, but that wasn’t enough to sustain her long-term.

Who would make sure she ate enough?

Shit. He was spiraling.

“Yeah. But, Callum?—”

“Just fucking do it, Lincoln!”

Silence.

Goddamn it. Callum could not seem to say one right thing today.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, worry churning like acid in his gut. “Look, man, I’m sorry. I just?—”

“I didn’t mean I wouldn’t do it. I just meant I didn’t have to. I’m at the Eagle’s Nest, and Sloane’s here working.”

Callum froze. She was still here. Still in town. Relief damned near collapsed on him. She hadn’t left Oak Creek, had only left him . He couldn’t even worry about that right now.

“Thanks.” He shifted midstride, disconnecting the call and turning toward the Eagle’s Nest. He picked up his pace until he was almost at a jog as he headed to the bar on the edge of town.

The door chimed as he stepped inside. His eyes immediately found Sloane weaving between tables, a smile on her lips as she set down plates and refilled drinks. Relief once again coursed through him, loosening the knot in his chest, now that he’d seen her for himself.

She was okay.

He headed for his usual booth in the back, his gaze never leaving Sloane, even as he nodded greetings to a few patrons. The pub buzzed with chatter, no doubt fueled by gossip about the multicar pileup earlier. But their words faded to a distant hum, drowned out by his focus on Sloane.

She glanced his way, and their eyes locked. In an instant, her smile faded. She turned deliberately away from him, tending to a table across the room. He couldn’t blame her. Regret coiled in his gut.

“Callum! Over here.” Bear’s voice snapped him out of his daze. He, Lincoln, and Theo occupied a nearby booth, waving him over with concerned expressions.

Dragging his attention from Sloane, he veered to their table. “Hey, guys.”

“We heard about the accident. Sounded nasty,” Bear said. “You doing all right?”

Callum shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, it was a rough one. But I’ll be okay.” His gaze slid back to Sloane.

Still ignoring him.

“Listen, sorry I was an asshole on the phone earlier,” he told Lincoln. “I didn’t even say thank you.”

Lincoln shook his head. “Didn’t even notice.”

“Hang with us for a while.” Theo gestured toward their booth. “While you’re waiting for Sloane to get off work.”

“Not tonight, fellas. Another time.”

Tonight, his only hope was that he could get a word in with Sloane.

And that word would be sorry .

But he wasn’t sure he’d even get the chance. He said goodbye to the guys and made his way to the back booth, the cracked vinyl creaking under him as he slid in. From this vantage point, he had a clear sightline to Sloane as she moved gracefully between tables. Her long hair swayed with each step, gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

Callum’s chest ached. He needed to make this right, to explain himself better. Earn her forgiveness if he could. But would she even give him the chance? He settled in to wait, prepared to stay all night if that was what it took.

Thirty minutes later, he realized his stay would probably involve no food or drinks if he was waiting for Sloane or Joy to serve him. Neither of them seemed inclined to come by and take his order.

More than once, he caught Joy shooting him a withering glare before she turned away with a dramatic toss of her hair. Sloane must have told her about the baby and their earlier conversation.

Sloane, meanwhile, seemed determined not to even look in his direction. She whirled between the crowded tables, her smile bright as she joked with the other patrons. But that smile never once turned his way.

With a tired grunt, he finally pushed to his feet and walked over to the bar. “Hey, Hudson. Can I get a beer?”

Hudson slid a frosty mug and a bottle of Callum’s favorite IPA across the counter. “Sure thing, Sheriff. Any reason my best waitresses seem to be avoiding you like the plague tonight?”

Callum let out a humorless chuckle as he cracked open the bottle. “I screwed up pretty badly with Sloane earlier. Said some things I shouldn’t have.”

“Women.” Hudson shook his head with a wry smile. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t stop putting your foot in your mouth around ’em.”

“Yeah, especially when you’re a dumbass like me.” Callum raised his beer in a mock toast before retreating back to his booth to settle in for what was likely to be a long wait.

It didn’t matter. He wasn’t budging. He’d stay right here, all night if he had to, stomach growling and head pounding, for the slim chance to talk to her. To try to make amends.

To Callum’s shock, he’d barely made it through half of his beer when Sloane appeared beside his booth. She set down a steaming plate of chicken potpie, the savory aroma making his empty stomach rumble.

“Everybody’s talking about the big accident today,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. “How bad it was. I figured you probably hadn’t had a chance to eat.”

His heart twisted. Even angry with him, even hurt, Sloane still had the compassion to make sure he ate. He didn’t deserve her thoughtfulness, her grace, but damn, if he didn’t appreciate it.

“Thank you,” he said roughly. “I know I don’t deserve this from you. Not after earlier.”

Sloane gave a tiny shrug, still avoiding his gaze. “Everyone’s got to eat.”

“Sloane, listen…” He took a deep breath. “Could we talk after your shift? I was such an ass earlier and?—”

“I’m moving in with Joy.” The words tumbled out of Sloane in a rush, crashing into him like a fist. She finally met his eyes, her expression unreadable. “Until I…figure things out.”

“That’s not what I want.” Fuck, this hurt. “I know I said awful things. I know I owe you a full and proper apology, and even then, I don’t expect everything to just be okay. But you moving out isn’t what I want.”

She lifted her chin, resolute. “It’s what I need , Callum. I need… I need some space right now. A chance to figure things out for myself. To decide what’s best for me and move forward. I’ve never had that chance.”

What argument could he make against that? She’d had too much taken from her in her young life. Way too many choices stolen from her. He wasn’t going to add to that number.

But he also wasn’t going anywhere. That baby was his. Hell, Sloane was his.

“Okay, I understand. I don’t like it, but I get it.” He caught her gaze and held it, trying to convey his sincerity. “Are you…feeling okay?”

Damn it, that should’ve been his very first question when he’d found out she was pregnant: How are you doing with all this? Do you need anything? How can I help?

Instead of ridiculous accusations and blame for something that wasn’t anybody’s fault.

“Yeah, I’ve felt pretty good overall.”

He nodded. “Good. Good. That’s…good.”

Super smooth there, Webb. First day talking to a woman?

“I have to get back to work.”

“Okay. Thank you for this. And I still hope we can talk soon.”

She nodded. That was as much as he could hope for right now.

“Sloane, don’t leave town,” he said as she turned away. “That’s all I ask.”

“Is that a request from the sheriff or the man?” She walked away, not expecting an answer.

Maybe because she already knew.

For him, they were both the same.