Saving Sloan (Sloan Series Book 2) (6 page)

“Fine.” Sloan gave in despite herself. She tossed her bag on the table and sat in the chair Aaron held out for her.

“Thank you.”

The chair squeaked when he nervously squeezed it. He let it go, and she heard him slap his brother on the back. “Night, brother. I’m taking a nap before work. Don’t study too hard.”

With that, Aaron was gone. Good riddance… maybe. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about Aaron. She knew he could drive her crazier than any man in the history of men — sans Boyd of course — but she also knew if she wanted anyone on her side, it was him. If she ever needed rescuing, it would be Aaron she’d call for help. Well… Aaron and 9-1-1.

“I’m sorry about that.” Ray strolled in, his jaw set in a ridged line. He sat down next to her and fumbled with their Biology worksheet. “You know how Aaron is about drugs. Our mother and all…”

He didn’t have to remind her. Susan, their mother, had ditched them before because of her drug habit. Aaron never talked about it, but Ray did occasionally. It hurt them both and made them swear off anything that would tear up their family. Sloan hoped she wasn’t something that would put a rift between the brothers. She didn’t want to, but judging by the look Ray had given Aaron earlier when he’d offered her the chair, she could see it coming. Why did she have to choose? Why couldn’t things stay exactly how they were?

“I know. I’m not your mother, though. I’m not doing anything that will hurt me.” She hoped not anyway. She still didn’t know what medicine Darcy had given her. It hadn’t killed her, though, which was a plus. Yay for that. But Aaron was right, not that she’d ever tell him. She needed to stop. Just stop it. Now. Before it got out of hand.

Sure, she felt better than she had in a while physically, but not emotionally. She hated lying, and that’s all she’d done for the past fifteen minutes.

“You promise?” Ray asked.

“I promise.”
I’ll never take anything besides over-the-counter pain medicine again,
she added internally. If she was going to stop, he didn’t need to know.

He smiled a big smile that put her at ease. Good ole Ray. “Good. How about you come back over tomorrow night?”

“Why?”

“Peace offering. Sort of a redo from tonight. I’ll cook. If I remember, I’ve never cooked you spaghetti.”

Sloan grinned. Aaron had told her once that Ray made a mean spaghetti, and she’d yet to taste it. “You are correct.”

“So, come over tomorrow night. Eat. We’ll do homework. Maybe even watch some TV. Forget about all of this mess with the prom and the roses and… whatever. Just have a night to relax. Sound okay?”

“Sounds more than okay. People might talk though. Saint Sloan and Redeemed Ray together without an adult.”

“Aaron.”

“I said an adult,” she kidded.

Ray got very serious. “Would it bother you if people
did
talk? You know nothing will happen. You know and I know, and most importantly, God knows.”

“Then that’s all that matters. Trust me, Ray. I’ve spent a good part of this year worried about what others thought of me.”

“Darcy.”

“Among others.” Couldn’t really talk bad about the girl now. “But I’ve grown from it. And I know we aren’t doing anything bad. If they want to talk, let them. People do little else.”

Ray grinned. She liked it when he grinned. It made him look carefree. “That they do. Wanna get finished with Biology?”

“Finished? We haven’t even started.”

S
LOAN GOT HOME WHEN
her mom did. They chatted awhile and she went upstairs to bed. The flowers were still there, still on her nightstand. She knew she hadn’t put them there… right? So how did they get there? Who was sending them to her? And what fall?

It could always be a prank,
she told herself. People liked to prank each other during the last few days of school. It was like a tradition. She was ninety percent sure that’s what Detective Morgan would say if she told her.

Then again… she had just been attacked and nearly killed by a psycho who she thought she’d seen standing outside her window earlier…

Sloan took the flowers and dumped them back in the trashcan next to her door, vase and all. They needed to go away, and she needed to sleep.

If she got any more flowers, she’d tell Detective Morgan and her mom. If not, she’d move on with her life. Apparently, moving on meant spaghetti and a movie with the Hunter brothers tomorrow night. Sounded good to her.

Sloan curled under her covers and took a deep, satisfied breath. The pill had definitely kicked in, and she didn’t have a pain or a care in the world. Too bad she’d never take one again.

CHAPTER FOUR

Three Days Before the Fall…

S
LOAN HALF EXPECTED THE VASE TO
be sitting on her nightstand the next morning.

It wasn’t.

The vase and the roses weren’t in her trashcan either.

It was after six, and her mom had already gone to work. Surely she’d taken the trash out before she left, though it wasn’t really like her. First time for everything, and the only logical explanation.

Sloan got up, made sure the window blinds were down in the bathroom, and got ready. She took extra time today to cover her scar. No need in it blaring two days in a row. Next she went into her room and picked out a pretty, dark purple shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves and black pants. She threw her hair in a low-side ponytail and went downstairs.

It was nice to have some extra time this morning. Much better than yesterday morning. She grabbed a toaster pastry from the kitchen cabinet and read her mom’s note. It said Mom would be home at around eight and she loved me. Both good things to know.

Sloan had the pastry hanging out of her mouth, and she was ready to reach for her keys when the doorbell rang. She looked out the little peephole to make sure it wasn’t a serial killer. One couldn’t be too careful. She was proof of that.

It wasn’t a killer that she could see anyway. It was a man from what she could tell. With a baseball cap that said
Rhonda’s Gifts.

Apprehensively, Sloan opened the door. The man smiled broadly. “Sloan Bridges?”

“Yes.” Her eyes darted around to see if she could see anything out of the ordinary.

“I have a delivery for you. Rhonda told me to bring them at this time so I wouldn’t miss you before you left for school. I’m glad I made it.” He moved his right arm from around his back and pulled out a vase with three long-stemmed roses. Like the others, they were wrapped with a long black ribbon and tied with a black bow. Unlike the others, these had a bit of glitter in them. The florist’s touch, she assumed.

“I didn’t order those.” She didn’t want them in her house. Not again.

“Come on, hurry up. I have other deliveries to make.”

With shaking hands, she reluctantly reached out and took them.

“Honey, they aren’t going to bite. They are flowers, not knives.”

He had no idea. They were knives to her. “Who sent them?”

The delivery man pulled his clipboard from under his arm. A small white envelope was attached under the clip. “Oh sorry. This goes with it. The letter, that is.” He handed it to her and doubled-checked the clipboard. He looked at her with a confused look then back down to the clipboard. “You… uh… I mean, you don’t know who ordered the flowers?” He raised a brow with a weird expression on his face.

“No. Should I?”

He checked the clipboard a third time. “Maybe that note will tell you what you need to know. Good day, ma’am.” He tipped his head before walking away.

Sloan shut the door and locked it behind her. After laying the flowers down on the table, she opened the card. She carefully pulled out a folded note.

3 days until the Fall, Sloan. Your fall. Don’t call the police. Don’t get them involved. Your mommy won’t like it if you do. This is between you and me. Do you know who I am yet? Because ICU.

XOXO

Sloan’s legs gave way and she fell against the door.

ICU.

What did that mean?

ICU.

I see you.

I see you?

She turned as quickly as she could and looked out the window next to the door. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that screamed, “Scary person staring at you.”

Her first instinct was to call the police. She needed to tell Detective Morgan everything so she could find whoever it was harassing her. But the note let her know that would be a big mistake.

Sloan was afraid for her mom. Scared whoever was harassing her would go after her. It wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility. Whoever it was could obviously get in her house. She had no doubt the flowers hadn’t appeared on her nightstand by accident. He’d put them there. He or she…

Truthfully, she had no idea who it was. She had theories. Boyd being the first on her list, but as Detective Morgan had so helpfully told her, Boyd couldn’t walk. Didn’t mean he couldn’t send flowers, though.

Did mean he couldn’t climb the steps to her room.

With her head pounding, Sloan took the flowers and the note up to her room and threw the flowers in the newly emptied trashcan. The note, she folded and stuck in her pocket. She pulled the plastic liner out of the small container and decided to throw it away on the way home from school. She opened her vanity drawer and pulled out the bottle of over–the-counter headache pills. Name brand. Nothing prescription. Just good old-fashioned headache medicine.

She opened the pill bottle and poured some in her hand. She threw two of the white pills in her mouth and followed them with a swig of water. They were just going to have to do. No more oh-so-wonderful pills from Darcy. Yeah, they would be nice, but Aaron was right — as much as she didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t need to get hooked on higher strength pain pills. Might as well nip it in the bud right now.

By the time she made it to the bottom of the steps with the trash bag in her hand, she was starting to feel better. Her headache no longer pounded behind her eyes, and she felt strangely lighter. It was nice. Score one for over-the-counter medicine.

After making sure the front door was secure, she went out the back and threw the bag of flowers in the trunk. She slid in the driver’s side and wiped her eyes. A thin haze fogged them, and she wiped them again. Tonight she needed to go to sleep earlier.

Sloan pulled the note the delivery man had given her out of her pocket and put it in her backpack for safe keeping. Maybe she’d show Ray, maybe not. If she couldn’t get the police involved, would it be a good idea to get Ray involved? And did she really not want to tell the police?

She had a lot of thinking to do, a lot of praying to do. She wished more than anything she knew the right thing to do. If she told the cops and whoever it was went after her mom, she’d never forgive herself. If she didn’t tell and whoever it was came after her, well, she might not live through it.

She pushed the button to start the Charger and backed out of the drive. Her head felt a little funny. Springtime in Tennessee. Lots of fun for the allergies.

She pulled into the parking lot with plenty of time to spare. After she pulled into her spot, she laid her head on the steering wheel and just sat there. What was she going to do?

Well, first of all, she was going to pull herself together. There was no need to sit there and snivel. She had to deal with this thing head-on. Head-on and alone or head-on with her friends was the question.

She grabbed her backpack and got out of the car. Walking past groups of students who didn’t pay her any attention actually made her feel better. A few months ago, she couldn’t walk anywhere without stares and snickers, both in front
and
behind her back. Now, most people just ignored her and her big scar. She appreciated it.

Finally, she made it to her locker and hesitated. There’d been four flowers in there last night. And a note from Mr. ICU, for lack of a better name. They’d still be there. She’d have to deal with it. If she’d have been smart, she would have just thrown them away like she planned on doing the ones sent to her house. Okay, she’d hang around a few minutes after school and wait for most people to clear out. Then she’d take the roses and put them in the car with the other ones. She could throw them all away at the same time. Hopefully, no one would see them in her locker. People would ask, and she didn’t want to answer. Didn’t even know exactly how to answer.

“Hey, Sloan.” Darcy bounded up next to her. Good gracious, this wasn’t going to become an everyday habit, was it?

“Hey.” She held her hand on the lock, refusing to open it with Darcy standing there. She’d forgiven her, but she still didn’t trust her.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.” Why?

“Do you need any more pills? I have some.”

“No!” She put her hand on Darcy’s to stop her from getting the bottle out of her bag. “No,” she said more softly. “No, thank you. I don’t need them. But thanks.”

Darcy eyeballed her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Perfect. Just I don’t think I need them. Took some regular pain pills this morning. Feel right as rain.”