Collateral Blood

2

Sloan Montgomery always found comfort in routine. The early mornings, the predictable hours at the restaurant, the quiet nights spent sketching in her childhood bedroom—it all gave her a sense of control. She needed that stability in her life, especially when so much of it seemed beyond her reach. But today, something felt different. There was a subtle shift in the air, a faint whisper that hinted at a storm brewing just beyond the horizon. Of course, Sloan had no way of knowing what was coming. All she knew was that, for now, life was still ordinary.

She pushed through the restaurant's heavy glass door, the familiar scent of coffee and fresh pastries greeting her like an old friend. The diner wasn't glamorous—just a small, cozy spot tucked away on a quiet street corner—but it was hers for now. She'd been working here for nearly three years, saving every spare penny in the hopes of one day pursuing her dream of becoming a fashion designer. It was a dream she'd clung to since she was a little girl, ever since she'd watched her mother sew dresses for her school plays.

"Morning, Sloan," her coworker, Emily, called from behind the counter, her cheerful voice breaking through Sloan's thoughts.

Sloan smiled, hanging up her coat and grabbing her apron. "Morning, Em. How's the crowd today?"

"Same as always," Emily replied with a shrug. "Busy, but manageable. You know how it is."

Sloan nodded, tying the apron around her waist as she mentally prepared herself for another long day on her feet. It wasn't the most exciting job, but it paid the bills, and right now, that was all that mattered. She had her eye on the future—a future where she'd be designing clothes instead of serving them.

As the morning rush picked up, Sloan moved through the motions with ease. She greeted customers with a warm smile, refilled coffee cups, and took orders without missing a beat. It was second nature to her by now, almost like a dance she'd rehearsed a thousand times. But even as she worked, her mind drifted to her father, Lucas Montgomery.

Sloan had always been close to her father. Despite his long absences due to work, they shared a bond that nothing seemed to break. Lucas Montgomery was a charismatic, larger-than-life figure in her world—someone who made everyone feel special when he was around. He wasn't just her dad; he was her hero. She knew he worked hard to provide for their family, often traveling for days at a time to handle his business, but it never dampened her excitement whenever he returned home.

As a child, Sloan would count the days until her father's return, and even now, at twenty-five, she still felt a flutter of anticipation every time he walked through the door. Lucas always made a point to spoil her and her mother, Maria, when he was back. Whether it was a spontaneous dinner at their favorite restaurant or simply spending the evening watching old movies, those moments felt perfect. He'd tell stories about his travels, making her laugh with his quick wit and charm, and she never questioned the long hours he put in. Why would she? He was doing it all for them.

Sloan's mother, Maria, was the grounding force in their lives. She was warm, patient, and endlessly kind—qualities that made her an incredible primary school teacher. Maria loved her students, just as she loved her daughter and husband, with a fierce and unwavering devotion. Sloan often marveled at her mother's ability to juggle everything—her job, her home, her marriage—with such grace.

Despite her father's absences, their family was close-knit, and Sloan had never doubted for a second that her parents adored each other. Lucas and Maria had been high school sweethearts, their love story one she had grown up idealizing. The way her father looked at her mother, even after all these years, was enough to convince Sloan that real love did exist—that it was something worth waiting for.

That's why she never resented her father's job, even when it took him away for long stretches of time. She understood that it was just part of the deal. Her mother had always told her that her father worked hard so they could have a good life. And they did. Their home wasn't extravagant, but it was filled with warmth, laughter, and love—everything that mattered.