James' POV
I'm looking at the table, deep in thought as I try to calm down Sloan and I, but one person's anger and another person's panic is a bit to control at once.
'Why couldn't she just stay away.' Sloan whimpers to me and uncontrollably, scenes and memories from when we were younger flash in our collective mind. I remember the fishing trip when I was eight, where I couldn't catch on fish, and my dad threw me in the river, telling me that real men could do it. I remember almost drowning that day and when I returned home I went to school with a bad cold and I soaring temperature. Because real men don't whine about being sick, you get over it and work through it. Anything else makes you soft.
I'm so lost in the endless spiral of pain and suffering, I almost don't hear Carramel come back into the room. She clears her throat a foot or so away from me and the sound still makes me jump, tearing me from my depressive thoughts.
