Page 89 of Just My Luck

Red was the Sullivans’ dad, and he suffered from early-onset dementia, which required him to live at the assisted-living facility where she worked. MJ had always had a soft spot for him, though she seemed to have a soft spot for everyone.

I glanced over my shoulder as she flounced toward the door. “Julep, it’s... it’s kind of new, so maybe let Sloane tell Sylvie.”

“You got it,” she singsonged, with a salute over her shoulder.

Once she left I exhaled and dragged a hand down my face. I made a mental note to add a little sweetness to the beer recipe I was testing for her.

Royal’s hand clamped over my shoulder and squeezed. “I’m happy for you.”

I looked at my younger brother. “Thanks. I kind of feel like I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m trying.”

He lifted a shoulder. “I think that’s probably all that counts.” His eyes gave me a once-over. “So, no issues with Dad?”

I shook my head. “We timed things right. He’s out of town, and JP pushed the paperwork through. As far as we know, there are no issues, but I suspect that will change if more comes to light about Mom.”

Royal grew sullen as he nodded. “You’re damn right about that.”

I looked around the tattoo parlor. “What about this place?”

“I own the business outright, but Dad owns the building. I guess I’ll just take the hits as they come.” His eyebrows bounced. “If they come.”

I nodded. “Knowing Dad, they will.” I stuck out my hand again. “But we’re in it together now.”

With a smirk, my brother shook my hand, and I squeezed. It was more than a friendly handshake.

It was a promise.

Eager to find Sloane, I made my way past the marina and headed toward the brewery. I entered the back and quickly double-checked the kettle temperatures, ensuring things were running smoothly. When I made my way to the front, the brewery was buzzing with families coming in off the beach and people enjoying a late lunch.

I scanned the floor, pausing when I noticed Reina bussing tables instead of working behind the bar. The brewery wasn’t overflowing with customers, so it didn’t make sense she was tending bar and bussing.

I stomped toward her, relieving her of the plastic tub she had planted on her hip. “What’s going on?” I looked around, realizing I hadn’t noticed Sloane either. A sinking feeling settled in my gut.

Reina leaned in to whisper, and my stomach pinched. “Sloane was served legal papers today. She didn’t say what they said, but she was rattled. She’s in the staff bathroom, I think.”

I nodded, leaving Reina to handle the front of the brewery. I only stopped at the kitchen to dump the tub into the sink. I didn’t bother acknowledging the staff working and instead tore off in the direction of the staff bathroom.

I had raised my fist to pound on the door when I heard soft, muffled sobs. My palm flattened against the door. “Sloane. Baby, it’s me. Open up.”

The door handle rattled, and I impatiently pushed through the doorway. Huddled in the corner on the floor, Sloane looked up at me with red, puffy eyes.

She swiped a hand under her nose. “I’m sorry.”

Worry and panic gripped my chest as I moved to her. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. What’s going on?” I crouched in front of her, placing my palm at the side of her face. Her eyes wouldn’t meet mine, and fresh tears clung to her wet lashes.

Beside her, she picked up a thick manila envelope and shoved it between us. “He wants—” Her voice hitched as emotion snagged her words. “He doesn’t even love them. He just wants to hurt me.”

I grabbed the envelope, but my attention stayed locked on her face. “Sloane. Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s him!” Her voice wobbled as it rose. “He wants to take Ben and Tillie from me, simply because he thinks he can.”

It was disturbing how quickly murderous rage filled my lungs. “He can’t. He won’t.”

Her hand jutted toward the envelope in anger. “He’s already trying. My trust fund is nothing compared to the family money he has backing him. He is cruel and vindictive and an asshole. He’ll use that money to fight, and everything I had is now tied up in the house and the brewery.”

I scoffed. Fuck him and his family money. “You have an order of protection against him. No judge in their right mind would ever entertain the idea of giving him custody after that. He has no grounds. He would have to prove you’re an unfit mother, which you are not. You have a stable job. You care for their needs. You’re married and living with?—”

Her eyes flew to mine when realization hit me like a freight train. The truth expanded in my throat, cutting off my air supply.

---