Page 11 of Reckless Single Daddy

We continue walking until we find an empty bench. It’s secluded enough but still gives a view of the festival in all its glory. We sit in silence as I mull over her words. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be creative and struggle like this. The best art I can do is stick figures, but I know what it’s like to feel the pressure to continue to be the best. Or at the very least, be better than the last time.

I was a football star in high school. My father always pushed me to keep getting better and better every game. When you’re in a small town like Rose Valley, sports is the only thing you have to look forward to. But now there’s the desire to be the best father I can be for Liam. I can provide for him all I want, but the money means nothing if I am not present emotionally and physically. I value the time I make for Liam, regardless of how busy my work is. My son will always come first.

So, I relate to Sloane’s struggle, and being alone during these bouts can be even harder. Typically, if I’m feeling overwhelmed, I know I can rely on Mike to help me make sense of things. But who does Sloane have? From what I know, she doesn’t really talk to Mike the way she used to. I just wish I knew why she makes a point of shutting everyone out.

“Do you remember after your graduation,” I begin, and she looks at me, “I went to find a bathroom and nearly ran into you as you came out of the girls’ bathroom?”

She smirks. “Seems like bathrooms are a thing for us,” she says as it dawns on me. My eyes widen slightly, causing her to chuckle as the straw from her margarita nestles between her front teeth.

Heat radiates up my neck, but I do my best to ignore it. “Anyway,” I roll my eyes before continuing, “you had been crying, so I asked you to take a walk with me.”

It dawns on me how familiar this moment is for us because she was sad about graduating back then. So we walked the halls to reminisce about our time at Rose Valley, albeit during different times. However, my championship photo was still locked in the memorabilia cabinet with our trophy.

“You told me to paint what I was feeling, and I told you I was too sad to paint,” she says softly, and I smile as she recounts the memory.

“And what did I say?”

She sighs and shakes her head. “You said there is no such thing, and then you took me to the art room and sat me in front of a blank canvas and told me to paint,” she says before finally looking back at me.

“Feeling inspired yet?” I ask as she smiles, biting her bottom lip.

“I think I am,” she murmurs, and for a moment, I think I see her eyes flick to my own lips. I wonder if she’s feeling the same charged energy I am. That desire to touch her, to taste her one more time.

But I don’t. Instead, I allow myself to let the moment slip by and look away, steeling myself. Whatever this moment was, it has long passed, and the best thing I can be for her is a friend, if nothing else. I need to think about people other than myself, like Mike and my son. Even considering a relationship with someone who lives a different life than me, let alone is so much younger, would be asinine.

“What the…” I hear Sloane whisper.

I look over at her. She’s looking over to her left, and as I follow her line of sight, I see a man lingering nearby with a camera in hand. The sight wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, if his demeanor didn’t give off the sense that he was hiding something, or the fact that he was dressed in a poor attempt to disguise himself.

I look back at her. “Do you know him?”

She gulps and shakes her head. She meets my eyes, looking almost scared but more confused than anything.

“I can’t see his face, but he seems familiar.” She takes a deep breath. “I may have got him mixed up with someone. Anyway, I should probably get home,” she says, almost rushing to leave now.

I feel conflicted, but I stand up with her and deposit our cups in the trash.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask as she smiles up at me. She stands on her toes to press a kiss to my cheek, leaving a warm spot in its wake.

“I’m better now. Thank you,” she says softly. “See you soon, Cade,” she adds before turning to walk away.

I stand there a little longer, watching her disappear down the town center. I look back to where the man is, only to find him gone.

Strange…

My instincts tell me this is something I should look into, but maybe Sloane is right. Perhaps it’s nothing.

Chapter six

Sloane

It’s been a few days since the festival, and I already feel my inspiration returning. Ever since my conversation with Cade, it’s been like a swirl of colors magically finding their way from my paintbrush to the canvas. I can’t explain it, but everything just began to make sense again when he reminded me that art isn’t an action, it’s a feeling. It’s like he reminded me why I began to paint in the first place.

I guess I need that reminder from time to time, especially when painting is no longer a hobby but my livelihood, which puts all this additional pressure on me. The thought of giving up on something I love makes me feel helpless, but more importantly,it would show how right my parents were about my choice of career.

I don’t want to believe they were right.

Not about this.

---