Sacrificing Sloan (Sloan Series Book 3) (4 page)

Boyd just took up the same space he did all of yesterday.

Idiot.

“You need help,” said Mr. Lawrence—I hadn’t asked his first name. Didn’t need to know his first name—as he placed a few pieces of bacon on a plate and sat it in front of Boyd. His hand shook as he did it, and I could tell this was hard on him. Of course it was. This was his son, and he had to choose between saving him and letting the police find him. Not an easy choice for anyone.

I knew the perfect solution.

Let me kill him.

Then everyone would be happy.

“And Aaron needs help.” I didn’t take offense that he mentioned me last. It was a true statement. I needed help. The sooner the better.

“Oh, screw Aaron. He got us into this mess.” Boyd huffed and crossed his arms over his chest the best he could. It wasn’t a large space between the table and the back of the bench he laid on. The ‘dining room’ I supposed. And my bit of the cabin would be the bedroom.

White bandages covered his eyes today. Mr. Lawrence must have put them on Boyd last night. It sort of solidified that fact that Boyd couldn’t see. Or else he was a very good player. Maybe he’d get his sight back someday. I couldn’t find it in my heart to care.

I was going to say something—along the lines of how was it my fault we were in this mess, only with more colorful words and gestures that he couldn’t see but would make me feel better to use—when Mr. Lawrence beat me to it. He slammed the fork down he’d been turning the bacon with, which—I can’t deny—made me flinch because all I could imagine was those perfect slices of pork products falling toward the floor in slow motion.

If I couldn’t have civilization or Ray or Sloan—or the use of my legs—then there was no way I'd have bacon taken away from me, too.

Thankfully, the plate only bounced from the contact. The bacon remained unscathed. I couldn’t say the same for Boyd, as if he cared. “Son, it is time you started taking responsibility for your own actions. You hurt the girl. And I have no real idea what caused you to wash up on my creek bank, but I have a pretty good idea. I know it wasn’t the Hunter boy’s fault. It was yours, Boyd… all of it.”

“He…” Boyd sat up straighter and bit back. I could tell this was going to be like one of those fights on reality TV that you didn’t want to admit to watching, you didn’t want to watch, but you couldn’t look away.

“Shut. Up. Boyd.” Mr. Lawrence’s voice broke, and his tired old eyes nearly jumped from the sockets as he ignored our breakfast and faced his spawn. “I’m tired of your excuses. I’m tired of your attitude. In fact, I’m tired of you! Your mother and I gave you everything. Everything you could have ever wanted. And this is how you repay us?”

“So I’m supposed to owe you?” Boyd’s lip curled.

“You are supposed to respect us!”

“Respect is earned.”

I thought Mr. Lawrence would have a heart attack then and there. His face turned all weird shades of red and pink and a bit of purple. It was enough to make even me worry. Instead of yelling again like I would have, Mr. Lawrence closed his eyes and took a big deep breath. “Maybe we made you entitled.” He said much more calmly. It wouldn’t last long…

“Don’t kid yourself, Dad. You’re no saint.” Boyd scoffed in his normal way, but I noticed something else. Something I had never seen before in Boyd. His shoulders slumped when he talked, and his voice… it sounded a bit like a whipped puppy. Could that mean that the great and psychotic Boyd Lawrence actually had a conscience? That what his father said to him was actually creeping in somewhere?

Probably too much to hope.

Then again, I didn’t really care what Boyd thought, and I sure didn’t care about his feelings. When we got out of there and I could walk again, I’d kick his butt. And then it would take everything I had in me not to kill him.

He deserved it.

Instead of trading more insults with his son like my mom would have, Mr. Lawrence returned to our breakfast and placed some more slices of Heaven on a plate. “The rain isn’t going to let up. You heard the radio. In a few hours—if we are lucky, it’ll wait till tomorrow noon—the waters from the creek will be around the cabin. There is no way to stop it. It is just the way it is. The jeep is totaled. There is no way to get you two out of here, but we need help. I need to get you help.”

I laid my head against the wall so hard the room spun for a second or two. All this time, I had assumed—I had hoped that a rescue team would, I don’t know, miraculously drop from the sky and find our cabin. It wasn’t like we were in the dark ages. We were in Tennessee. In the twenty-first century. People found people. That was the way things went.

So, in my mind I just assumed we’d be safe and wait for help. I never thought about Mr. Lawrence leaving us, leaving me with his psycho son. The one person in the world I wanted to murder with my bare hands.

Mr. Lawrence must have been very desperate.

Then again, I needed to get out of there. Quick. Knowing Sloan, she probably thought I was hurt really bad—which I was, but still—or worse.

I needed her. I needed Ray.

I needed out!

The thought of her suffering made my stomach knot, and I threw my arms over my eyes to calm myself down. Breathe in… breathe out… I used to do that when I was a child and my mom had some guy at our house. I’d lie in my bed with my arms over my eyes and imagine I was somewhere else. Somewhere away from the yelling and screaming and glass breaking.

Now I wanted the opposite. I wanted to be home. I wanted to be with Sloan. I wanted to kiss her.

And I wanted to hug Ray and make sure he was alright.

Last I’d seen him— it wasn’t good.

Gritting my teeth, I knew I needed to stay calm. It would all work out, one way or the other. So while I didn’t want Mr. Lawrence to leave, I sort of understood it. If it kept raining like it was now, not only would the flood water get around the cabin, it would get in the cabin. That would be bad for so many reasons.

“You want to leave me alone… here… with Aaron?” Apparently Boyd thought the same thing. “He hates me.”

“With good reason.” I reminded him ever so helpfully.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.” My arm slid down to my side, and I glared at the idiot across the room from me. “Get yourself up, walk over here, and make me shut up.”

“Like you could run.”

“Like you could find me.”

“Give me time, Hunter.” Boyd scooted toward the end of the bench. Holy cow! He was actually going to come over there and come after me. I think I snorted. “Just give me time.”

“Okay, good. I’ll take a nap while I wait.”

“Children!” Mr. Lawrence spun around with the bacon plate in his hands and sat it down on the table with a thud. “You two will stay here, and you will not kill each other or beat each other up or even talk to one another. Do I make myself clear?”

“Like I’d want to talk to him.” Boyd scoffed, but scooted back where he originally sat. I knew he wouldn’t attack me. He was too scared to attack someone he actually had to face. I hated him more than any other person on the planet, and that said a lot, since I knew some colorful people from my mom’s life.

“That’s not what your mom said.” I grinned. No. It wasn’t a good mama diss or even a so bad it’s good mama diss. It was just all around bad, but it was a mama diss none the less—classic.

“You little…” Apparently, Boyd didn’t like mama disses. He scooted back across the bench to hunt me down. Like I’d back down from someone like him. I welcomed the distraction.

“Oh, good glory.” Mr. Lawrence cracked some more eggs in the skillet while Boyd kept trying to scoot in my direction. I knew it would take a while, so I enjoyed the scent of the eggs filtering my direction, and grabbed a piece of bacon to take the edge off. My mind worried about everyone at home. My heart wanted revenge. My stomach just wanted some bacon and eggs. It was very primal.

“After breakfast, I’m cleaning up, and I’m walking out of here. The dirt road I drove down is only a few miles long. Maybe a little more, but I should be able to bring help to you guys by tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest. Now… Do. Not. Leave. This. Cabin. Before. I. Get. Back. Do you understand?”

Like we could go anywhere…

I understood, regretfully so. It wasn’t like I could hike right now. “Fine.” I agreed because what else could I do? Mr. Lawrence was right. The creek was coming, and they had to get out before it was too late.

And of course God— or fate, or coincidence—or whoever designed things in life, decided it would be the perfect time for a tree to drop on the one thing we could have used to get out of Dodge.

Well played, universe. Well played.

“Whatever.” Boyd sighed as he laid his head on the edge of the table. He never made his way to kick my butt. It felt anti-climactic.

“Good.” Mr. Lawrence finished the rest of breakfast and brought the eggs to the table. He fixed us a plate, and instead of making me scoot over to the table, he handed me mine at my little perch. I asked for more bacon. It was granted.

When we were finished, and our awkward silence continued, Mr. Lawrence took our plates and washed them in the sink. There were no leftovers to throw out. Nearly dying made me hungry, and I ate my fair share of the bacon.

After he’d finished, Mr. Lawrence gathered a bag full of things and turned the radio up for us. “Food is in the fridge. I’ve left some snacks on the table for you two, though you probably won’t want to eat. There is some extra wood next to the stove. Don’t let the fire go out no matter what you do. Yeah, it’s May, but it can get pretty cold here in May. I don’t want you to get sicker than you already are. Be safe. Be warm. And please, for the love of God, don’t bicker the entire time.”

He kissed Boyd on the forehead, causing Boyd to flinch. He hadn’t been expecting that, and I don’t think he knew how to react. I’m sure it had been a while since father had kissed son. As long as Mr. Lawrence didn’t come over and smooch on me, we’d be fine—then again, I was cold and tired and not feeling well. A nice fatherly hug wouldn’t be turned down.

But I didn’t think I’d get one.

Mr. Lawrence went to the door and placed his hand on the knob. He hesitated, before turning around and marching in my direction. He didn’t stop until he his arms were wrapped around me.

“What’s going on?” Boyd asked.

I had the same question, but I can’t say I tried to push him away. Sometimes, and I’m man enough to admit it, you just need a hug, no matter what. I was scared. I hadn’t said as much, but I was. Terrified. And I didn’t want to show it. But somehow, Mr. Lawrence knew. Who knows, maybe he was scared, too. Maybe he needed reassurance that everything would be alright. Maybe he needed a way to feel connected to the cabin because obviously his son was being a brat.

Whatever the reason, he hugged me. He patted me on the back. And then he let me go and without even looking back, headed again to the door. This time, he opened it. Wind and rain pounded in, and my heart sank. He couldn’t go out in that. It was suicide.

“I have to try.” He nodded as if reading my mind. “Boys, I’m counting on you. Stay here. Stay dry. Work together to keep the fire going. And please… please… when I come back, make sure you both are still in one piece.”

“I make no promises.” I answered, after Mr. Lawrence had already shut the door and disappeared into the storm.

The clock ticked.

The radio sang songs about bullfrogs.

There was silence.

A day alone with the jerk who nearly murdered me twice. The guy who shot my brother. The guy who tried to rape my girlfriend. Whatever could I do to kill the time?

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sloan

8:51 AM

I
T WOULD NEVER STOP RAINING.

That was the determination I drew.

Never.

Not going to happen.

Ugh!

Ray woke up about thirty minutes before and was super groggy. I supposed anyone would be if they were drugged. It took a while, but he seemed to be almost himself again. That is until the doctor came back in.

It wasn’t a friendly reunion. Ray glared at him like he’d done him a terrible injustice. Maybe in Ray’s mind he had. Who would want to be subjected to that? Injected with an unknown substance that knocked him out? It had to feel like he was betrayed, and I prayed to God he didn’t think Mackenzie or I were in on it.

“How are you feeling today?” The doctor had the nerve to say, and I held my breath and bit my lip, waiting for Ray to answer.

I didn’t think it would be a very nice conversation.

“I was drugged and knocked out. How do you think I feel?” Nope, not good at all.

“Mr. Hunter.” The doctor pushed his glasses back on his nose and ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “I understand your frustration, but you have to realize we did it all for your own good.”

“My own good!” I’d never seen Ray snap. It had always been Aaron. Aaron had the quick temper, and Aaron had the fuse no one in their right mind would want to light. Ray was the calm one. He was the one who made everything better and told me that it would be okay.

So when I saw this side of him, I flinched. I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t ‘my’ Ray and yeah, I understood it, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch. Everyone has a breaking point, even sweet Ray.

“How can you say that was for my own good?” Ray sat up in his bed, and I saw him flinch, but he recovered quickly. I didn’t think he wanted the doctor to see. “My brother is out there in this mess of a rainstorm. He’s hurt. He has to be hurt. He needs me, and you want me to calm down and stay here?”

“Mr. Hunter…”

“I can’t stay here! Do you understand me? I can’t. I need my brother.” Ray swung his legs over the side of the bed. His legs were bare from the hospital gown he had to wear. I’d worn one of those on only one occasion, and I tried to forget it every day. The day I had to come to the hospital to see if Boyd had raped me. I’d been knocked out, too. I knew how Ray felt. The anger. The betrayal. The confusion. My hand began to shake, and I tried as hard as I could to keep the tremor to myself. This wasn’t about me. This was about Ray, and it was time I stopped acting like this story was all about me. There were so many other people who were important. Not just me. So I held my shaking hand in my lap and willed it to stop. I willed the images of my own time in a hospital gown to go away, to stay buried where they belonged.