Feisty Red (Three Chicks Brewery #2) - Stacey Kennedy Page 0,50
come back.”
“Thanks,” Sullivan said, his jaw muscles clenching and unclenching against the frustration burning through him.
As Darryl headed down the porch steps, the chief trotted up. “Looks like you’ve had a day,” he said.
“You could say that,” Sullivan said with a snort, feeling the tension trembling through him.
John arched a brow. “Price of fame?”
Sullivan gave a firm nod. “A steep one, sometimes.”
“Pity,” the chief muttered. “Listen, I’ve got a cruiser sticking around for the night to make sure no one comes back.”
“Thanks, John. I appreciate that.”
The chief cupped Sullivan’s shoulder in a strong grip, his stare steady, at the ready. “Call if you need anything.”
“I will, thank you,” Sullivan said.
The chief headed back down the porch steps and got into his SUV, right as Sullivan’s cell phone rang. He saw it was Hayes before he answered. “Is Mason okay?” Sullivan asked by way of greeting. Hayes had been here, at the house, but Sullivan had asked him to take Mason home until all this settled down.
“He’s all good,” Hayes answered. “Don’t worry. He’s totally fine and happy to be here with us for dinner. Take the time you need with Clara.”
“Thanks, appreciate it, man,” Sullivan said, the weight squeezing his chest lifting slightly. “Can I talk to him?”
“Sure. One sec.”
There was rustling over the phone line, and then Mason said, “Hi, Sullian.”
“Hey, buddy, are you having fun?”
“Yeah, Auntie Maisie is helping me paint dinosaurs.”
“Cool,” Sullivan said, running a hand through his hair, not enjoying this next part. “Your mama has an upset tummy, but she told me to tell you we’ll come get you once she’s feeling better, okay?”
“Okay.”
The last thing Sullivan wanted to do was lie, but Clara was in no state of mind to see Mason right now. Truth be told, either was Sullivan. The article shook him. The paparazzi had always been cruel, but never like this. They’d taken their story and made it look far worse than the truth of Sullivan’s past.
More rustling then Hayes came back to the phone, laughing. “He appears done with you. We’ve got this. Don’t worry.” A pause. “How’s Clara?”
“Rattled,” Sullivan said.
“Anyone would be,” Hayes commented. “All right, we’ll keep the little dude busy until you guys call.”
“I owe you, thanks, Hayes.”
“You don’t owe me shit.” Hayes ended the call before Sullivan could say anything more.
With a sigh, he tucked his phone into his pocket and scanned the property one final time, but didn’t see a reporter in sight. Though he did see the police cruiser sitting at the end of the driveway. For years, he’d wanted the fame, the recognition. Now he’d hand it over in a second to avoid the way it hurt Clara. Determined to fix this, he went inside, locking the door behind him, and headed up the staircase. Every step of the way and creak of the wooden floorboard beneath his feet, he swore he’d done the right thing, but he realized his misstep now. He’d brought the reporters right to Clara’s doorstep when he gave the press conference to publicize the brewery. And the baseball game only confirmed she meant something to him. He should have known better—should have anticipated they would dig into his connection to her. He’d let his guard down, and he shouldn’t have. He’d done this to her by coming back, and he’d hurt her…again.
When he reached the bathroom door, he knocked softly. “Clara?”
“Come in.”
He opened the door then wished he hadn’t. She was in the claw-foot bathtub set against the left wall, full of bubbles. Makeup streaked her cheeks, and he could see the heartbreak written all over her face. Betrayal, her eyes screamed at him. “Clara, anything I said in that interview was to protect you and is not how I feel,” he told her, closing the distance between them.
Her gaze held his. “I know.”
She didn’t believe him, and his gut twisted. He knelt by the tub. He explained further, “If they think there is nothing going on here, they’ll leave you alone.” However, he could tell his words weren’t enough and that any headway they’d made was gone. She was guarded again. Not that he could blame her. He knew without even asking what truly scared her. “You’re worried about Mason.”
She shut her eyes, tension radiating from her. “I’ve spent his whole life trying to keep him in a safe, happy bubble.” Her voice cracked. “They’ve twisted our story. Took the worst parts of it. Told lies. I don’t want Mason hearing any of that. All I wanted