Saint Sloan (Saint Sloan #1)(25)

“No. He’s not been there for a while, Boyd said. Something about a job in Nashville or a convention or something. He’s been gone for a month. Said he’d be gone a few more weeks.”

“Long convention,” she mumbled, fighting to stay awake.

“Yeah. So, anyway, I wanted you to feel better that your theory of Boyd sending you those things isn’t correct. He couldn’t have been outside your window. He genuinely can’t walk.”

Sloan wasn’t entirely sure how that was supposed to make her feel better. “Did he try?”

“To walk.”

She grunted.

“He tried to stand. He was ticked actually. Said we were falsely accusing him of something he couldn’t do. Maybe rubbing it in his face.”

“I don’t know. You attack someone twice, you start to question their motives. They become suspicious.”

“I know. I told him that. He said to tell you,” Ray’s voice strained, “that he was sorry.”

“He can tell me he’s sorry until he’s blue in the face. I know it’s my duty as a Christian to forgive him, but Ray, I’m telling you, I can’t.” It was the most passionate she’d felt about anything in a few hours.

“I know it’s hard.”

“It’s more than hard. It’s impossible. See you at school tomorrow.”

“Wait!” he yelled.

Sloan hesitated before putting the phone back up to her ear. “What?”

“Let me come over to your house tonight. I’ll bring food, and we can work together. You can wear your pajamas if you want. I don’t care. I just… I want to see you.”

Sloan shut her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. “I’m afraid I’m not good company.

“It’s okay.” He sounded like he was smiling. “I’m used to it.”

She smiled at his honesty.

“Please. I won’t stay long, and I’ll cover you up if you go to sleep doing your homework. I might even be all romantic and carry you upstairs to your room.”

“Some would consider that creepy.” She grinned.

“And they would be wrong.”

Sloan let out a big sigh and thought, Why not? It wasn’t like she had any other plans besides sleeping. Ray had been right earlier, not that she would admit it. She did have to do her homework. She couldn’t just go home and sleep, no matter how much she wanted to. So, having him come over and help her didn’t sound terrible. And that way, she didn’t have to drive home afterward. Double bonus. “Okay, you can come over. As long as you realize, I’ll probably be asleep by like, seven.”

“Deal. See you in a few minutes. Got to run home first for a second.”

“See ya.” Sloan hung up the phone and tossed it in the seat next to her. Why did she let him talk her into things?

When she looked back out of the window, every car in the parking lot was gone. With her eyes drooping, she slapped her cheeks to wake up. Good glory! All she’d taken was headache medicine! It wasn’t like she’d thrown back two sleeping pills!

She put the car in drive, forced her eyes open, and pulled out of her space. Praying the entire way, she slowly made her way home. Thankfully, she didn’t hit anything, and no cop pulled her over for doing twenty in a forty-five.

She felt like kissing the ground when she got home. When she shut the car door, she wanted to kick herself. Those stupid flowers were in the truck of her car still. She thought a word she didn’t normally say and opened the trunk. She’d put them in the garbage bin and forget it!

The trunk lid opened and Sloan stared.

No trash bag.

No flowers.

Nothing.

“What the crap?” she whispered. She’d put them in her car. She knew she had. This was crazy. Stupidly crazy.

Sloan shut the trunk and staggered to the front door. After opening the door, she slammed it behind her and threw the keys on the side table under the mirror.

What in the world was going on here?

Clenching her fingers together to make herself wake up, she started up the steps to put on something comfortable before Ray got there. He’d better not be expecting something awesome… or even clean.

Something red in the kitchen caught her eye. On the island.

Rose petals?

Slowly she walked in, forcing her fuzzy eyes to focus.

It was rose petals all right. And they formed letters on the surface of the island.





I C U


Sloan didn’t stop to think. She ran up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door behind her, locking it. She fell against the door and tried her best to breathe. He’d been there. Sometime during the day, not only had whoever it was get the flowers from her trunk, but he’d gotten inside her house and had taken the time to fix them on her island.

This didn’t make any sense.

None.

Who had a key to her house?

And how could someone get in the truck of her car?

She paced the room and stumbled on a shoe she’d left on the floor, falling face down in her bed. She rose on her hands to get up, but they gave way.

Her bed felt so nice.

So soft.

So peaceful.

She was locked in.

No one could get her there.

Ray wouldn’t be there for a few minutes.