Chapter Text
November 30, 2012 Jackson, Wyoming
Sloane munched on popcorn quietly with the bowl perched on her pregnant belly as she watched her 90210 tape. The room was dark, the only light coming from the illumination of the TV. She heard the front door open, and she muted the TV to hear better. Heavy, slow footsteps trudged onto the floor, and Sloane pulled her cover up to her chest higher instinctively. Last time she’d checked, Joel was in his workshop in the garage, but he would’ve come through the door in the kitchen and not the front door.
Despite knowing the safety in Jackson, Sloane’s heart began to beat a little faster. There would always be residual creature fear in her blood, no matter how many years had passed since the Outbreak. The footsteps came closer, and Sloane’s back pressed against the plushness of the couch as if to get away from it. The darkened figure stood at the edge of the room, just outside of the light’s reach.
In a flash the light switch was flicked on, and the stark difference made Sloane let out a small yelp as her body jolted. Her popcorn bowl fell to the floor, spilling kernels all over. When she saw Tommy’s familiar face giving her a lazy, shit-eating grin, she scoffed.
“Hey, Savage,” Tommy greeted her, his voice smoky as he sauntered over to her with his thumbs pressed into his front jean pockets.
“You scared the ever-lovin Hell out of me!” Sloane sighed as she pointed to the popcorn. “Look at what you made me do!”
“There ain’t no Boogeyman in Jackson,” Tommy goaded her with a flirty smile. “I was just playin a little prank is all.”
“On a woman who’s seven months pregnant,” Sloane countered bitterly. “You’re a real comedic legend.”
“Aww, don’t be like that, sweetheart,” Tommy cooed at her as he stepped carelessly on the kernels with his boots. He took her chin in one of his hands. “I was thinkin about you, so I wanted to pay you a visit.”
Sloane looked side-to-side incredulously. She could tell by the way the halos of his eyes reddened and how he was swaying that he had seen the bottom of a few bottles. She swatted Tommy’s hand away. “You’re fuckin drunk. Go home.”
Tommy craned his neck back and laughed. “Only a little. C’mon, you and I always had fun drinkin shine and whiskey together.”
Sloane pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, what you want, Tommy? You know I think the world of you, but I feel like a fuckin beached whale and all I wanted to do was watch TV. I’m not real pleasant company right now, especially not for drunk folks.”
Tommy heaved a sigh as he sat down on the loveseat beside Sloane. He put his arm around her and pulled her close, kissing her head. He whispered in her ear, “You still look like the woman of my dreams to me, Savage.” His breath stank of whiskey and spearmint, and Sloane slithered out of his touch clumsily. She nearly tripped over the blanket as she struggled to her feet.
Sloane got a familiar sick feeling in her stomach. Tommy had professed his feelings to her twice before, and each time, Sloane thought it would be the last one. She feared that he was going to begin unearthing such feelings again. “Yeah, well you just look drunk as a skunk to me. Let me fix you a glass of water.”
Tommy swayed to his feet and stalked after her to the kitchen. Sloane exhaled sharply. Is watchin 90210 reruns really too much to ask? I’ve to deal with this shit? Sloane reached into the cupboard for a glass, pulled it down, and ran it under the tap. Once it was filled, she thrust it against Tommy’s chest, sending some of it splashing on his shirt.
Tommy chuckled again and slammed the glass down on the counter with a lazy shake of his head. “I ain’t want that shit. Don’t you get it? I want you.” He tried to come closer to her, but Sloane stepped away, keeping the island between them as a barrier.
Sloane’s jaw tightened. “Why you keep doin this? Puttin all four of us through the same shit whenever you feel like it? You’re ruinin everythin.” Sloane’s words were sharp and venomous, but she couldn’t handle the whiplash of the same situation all over again.
Tommy scoffed and pointed to his chest. “I’m ruinin everythin? How about you’re ruinin my fuckin life, Savage!? Huh? Did you ever think of that?” It was almost as if a bolt had come loose in Tommy. He could be curt and cutting when he needed to, but now he spoke with an almost passionate hate that was alien to Sloane. He pounded his fist against his chest. “I can’t hardly breathe around you sometimes because I want you so damned bad!”
“I’m pregnant with Joel’s babies, Tommy. He and I are married.” Sloane interrupted with heavy breaths as she tried to keep her composure. She hoped to rationalize with him and bring him back down. He’d entered some sort of drunken fit. “You and I ain’t happenin.”
“I know that! And it still don’t fuckin matter to me! You’ve broken me, Savage!” Tommy roared, his voice bouncing off the kitchen walls. He hit a fist on the island counter. “Do you think that I want to be like this?! I should be at home with my girlfriend who’s pregnant with my first child, but instead I’m howlin at you like you’re the fuckin moon!”
Tears were streaming down Sloane’s face because Tommy’s words were cutting her deeply. She’d been made to feel like the one in the middle, keeping everything from being copacetic. Tommy’s feelings for her were the reason that despite how much they all pretended like there wasn’t, there was always a hint of tension between the four of them. She was the problem. Sloane blinked them away harshly. “Yeah, you should be. I dunno what you want me to fuckin say to you. I ain’t given you any indication that you and I ever even had a chance. All I want is my friend back.”
“We never were just friends! Not to me anyway.” Tommy laughed and shook his head. “Say that you’ll give me and you a try! We ain’t never had a proper shot.” Tommy tried to come closer to her again, but Sloane continued to rotate around the counter. There was a predatory, desperate look in his onyx eyes. “C’mon, Savage. Who knows, maybe we’ve gotten it wrong this entire time.”
The first sentence had stung her heart worse than a wasp ever could, but Sloane’s eyes narrowed, and her blood felt as if it were boiling. “Gotten it wrong? The only thing wrong about this is the fact that you dunno when to fuckin quit!” Sloane dared to bring herself closer to him. She stood a foot away from him and held up a scolding finger to him. “Go home to Maria. You’re makin an ass of yourself.”
A vacancy took root in Tommy’s gaze like he was entranced or gone. He put a hand on Sloane’s cheek and tried to step in to kiss her. Sloane pulled herself away quickly, despite her condition. She raised a hand and smacked him across the face. “Don’t you ever fuckin touch me like that.”
Tommy licked his lips as he pressed his hand against the hot spot on his cheek. He smiled at her as if it turned him on. “I always did like how wild you were. C’mere and give us a chance.”
A fist struck Tommy's jaw, sending him sideways to the black and white kitchen tile. Tommy reached up to his lower lip, and his hand was met with blood. His lip was split. Sloane turned and saw Joel–his irises blown black with adrenaline and disdain sitting in his tight jaw. He wasted no time, picking Tommy up from the floor by his collar as if he were a ragdoll. Joel slammed Tommy against the refrigerator, sending decorations on top of it clattering to the floor.
“You’re guilty as sin, baby brother,” Joel laughed lowly in Tommy’s face. His words were dark and furious. “Comin into my house, hittin on my wife? Naw, I can’t let you get away with it this time.” Joel’s fist jabbed Tommy in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Tommy began wheezing and coughing hoarsely.
Joel grabbed Tommy’s face in one hand and squeezed. He slapped one of his cheeks and laughed again. Another one of Joel’s fists lodged itself into Tommy’s gut, and he made an involuntary gulping sound at the impact. “You took it too far this time,” Joel growled.
Tommy scrambled to fight back, but his movements were too sloppy. Joel was being gifted with the accuracy and precision that came with being absolutely livid. Normally, the playing field was more even, but Tommy was simply no match for him then.
Sloane froze, trying to think of what to do. This is what she’d been trying to avoid this entire time. The last thing that she’d wanted to do was pit the Miller brothers against each other because of her. She watched as Joel’s fingers tightened around his collar again, and he just stood there breathing heavily into Tommy’s face, contemplating what to do next.
Sloane touched Joel’s left shoulder gently, and he almost jumped out of his skin. Sloane tried to speak calmly to diffuse the tension in the room. She was still seething with anger herself, but she knew that it wasn’t going to help anyone. Sloane spoke quietly, almost in a whisper. “Jo, that’s enough.”
She saw the muscles in Joel’s tight jaw flex in irritation. He looked at her with wild eyes, but once they registered the fear in Sloane’s they softened a bit. “I’m tired of bein the bigger fuckin person, Slo. I ought to kill him for what he done.”
“I guess this would be a bad time to ask about a threesome, huh? After Savage has her babies?” Tommy slurred with a cackle.
Joel slammed his brother’s back against the fridge again–this time harder than the subsequent times, sending the fridge jolting backwards in its spot. “They’re not her babies, dipshit. They’re ours.” Joel sneered. “And I’m gonna make you wish you stayed home with yours here soon.”
“Shut the fuck up, Tommy!” Sloane snapped as she held her head in her hand. “Jesus fuckin Christ.” Sloane tried to reason with Joel again. “Baby, he’s clearly drunk. We can talk about this in the mornin. He needs to sleep it off first.”
“He’ll sleep it off when I knock him clean out,” Joel scoffed coldly. He turned to his right and threw Tommy to the ground of the hallway. Joel began to saunter over to him slowly.
Sloane waddled over between the two of them and held her hands out. “Stop it.”
“Move, baby,” Joel warned, his voice edged in irritation. “I mean it.”
“It’s over,” Sloane doubled down, standing her ground. “I’m walkin him home. C’mon, Tommy, get up.”
“You ain’t goin nowhere alone with him,” Joel said finitely with a shake of his head. “I’ll kick him across the street right to his fuckin stoop.”
Sloane rubbed her eyes. Her head was pounding, both from exhaustion and annoyance. “Fine, we’ll both go.” Tommy laid on the ground still, and Sloane snapped her fingers at him. “Get up!”
Joel let out a vexed huff before sucking on his teeth. He gave Sloane a long, hard look, and she stared back at him with pleading eyes. He swallowed hard and tried to roll the tension from his shoulders. “Fine.”
Tommy struggled to his feet, but Sloane and Joel didn’t offer a hand to help him up. They were far too fed up for that. Sloane wanted Tommy to face the music for the trouble he was causing and realize the severity of it, but she couldn’t stand idly by and watch him get hurt like that. Tommy had deeply hurt her; Sloane even felt betrayed, but she still couldn’t watch it. She wasn’t sure where they stood–according to Tommy they’d never been really friends, but Sloane didn’t believe him. Even if she were wrong, she was going to hold onto that delusion because once, Tommy was the only real friend she had, and she treasured that.
Once Tommy was up, Joel gave him a forceful push to the front door, nearly sending him to the ground again. Sloane shot him a displeased look, but Joel gave her a blank one. She could tell that he was trying with everything in him to keep his cool, so she bit her tongue. Beggars can’t be choosie, I reckon. Before they met the cold, Joel draped a jacket over Sloane’s shoulders, and she knew that she must look utterly insane. She’d been toasty by the fire inside while watching her show, wearing one of Joel’s T-shirts and a pair of pajama shorts. Now she had his jacket and her cowboy boots on.
Joel gave Tommy another shove to the front porch steps, and he whipped his head back. He clenched his fist in front of him as if he were going to strike his big brother, but Sloane stood between them again. Her eyes urged Tommy onward. “Maria’s waitin for you.”
Tommy exhaled sharply with a huff of bitter air. “I can walk across the fuckin street. I don’t need the two of you to give me an escort.”
“You lucky I ain’t deliverin you in a body bag, Tommy.” Joel snapped as his hand snaked around Sloane’s waist, clenching it in his hand possessively. She gave him an empathetic look because she could catch the hint of betrayal in his voice.
Tommy began to open his drunk mouth, but Sloane hushed him as she held up her hand. “Shut your mouth. You ought to be embarrassed of yourself.”
Tommy rubbed his nose as if it itched and ran his tongue across his busted lower lip. The mournful inflection in his voice didn’t match his wound up body language. “Don’t worry none, Savage. I am embarrassed.”
Sloane shook her head and looked down at the pavement. What bothered Sloane the most is that she could never make heads nor tails of Tommy and his oscillating emotions. His words said one thing and his body often did another. It was exhausting. Sloane subconsciously put her hand on her belly to comfort herself. The stitches holding the Miller brothers together were tattered and frayed sometimes, but this was the closest to being torn apart than they’d ever been. She knew that she’d done nothing wrong, but she couldn’t help but wonder if there was something that she could’ve done to prevent this mess from unfolding.
The rest of the short walk was silent, and Joel kept his arm wrapped around Sloane as they watched Tommy ascend the stairs. Tommy turned around and gave one last forlorn look to Sloane, and it made her feel sick inside. She wished to tell him that it didn’t have to be this way…that if he could just quit putting her on a pedestal and give Maria the proper attention she deserved, then none of this would’ve happened. Matters of the heart were a strange thing, but to Sloane, they were often simply black and white. She figured that perhaps Tommy had been forced to see things in some rosy-colored technicolor nightmare that he had to fumble his way through. When Tommy opened the door, Maria was standing behind it, and Sloane gave her a sad wave.
Sloane and Joel turned around, and she leaned in to be closer to him. She could feel herself getting tearful, but she tried to bite them back. “I hate that I’m the one in the middle causin this between you two. I dunno why…he just can’t let it lie.”
“It ain’t your fault, baby,” Joel replied quietly, the warmth of his voice evaporating in a cold cloud around them. “I stopped tryin to understand Tommy a long time ago. It’s easier that way.”
Sloane felt a tear slip past her cheek, and her voice was hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”
Joel’s grasp around her waist tightened. “Don’t you start. I heard enough of the conversation to know that this is just another one of them things he made up in his twisted head. I love my brother, Lord knows I do, but I won’t let him disrespect you like that. I won’t do it.”
Sloane exhaled a shaky breath, and Joel’s voice echoed through the cold night again. “I’m glad you stepped in between us because all I could see was red.”
“I’m glad you were there,” Sloane admitted as they walked up the front stairs.
Joel opened the front door for her, and she could see the bruising start to spread across Joel’s knuckles. “I’ll never be far, little savage. Count on that.”
Sloane sighed lightly and nodded with a smile. “I know. Now let’s go get some ice for your hand, Rocky.”
“Whatever you say, darlin,” Joel replied as he shut the door behind them.