Saint Sloan (Saint Sloan #1)(30)

Okay, the Aaron kissing her part wasn’t terrible. It had been wonderful at the time. Now, not so much.

Why couldn’t she have both of them? Why did she have to hurt either of them? Why did things have to change? “God,” she prayed toward the ceiling. “I know You’re up there and You know what’s going on, but I don’t. Please, help me out and give me a clue. Am I crazy, God? Am I making all of this up? Is it head trauma making me think I’m seeing things when I’m not? Or do I honestly have a stalker who threatened to attack my mother if I told the police? Will the police even listen to me if I told them? Everyone else thinks it’s in my mind.”

She rubbed her eyes, sleepiness taking her over. “And how can he get inside my house? The roses. ICU. What does it mean, God? What? A clue would be awesome right about now. Amen.”

Sloan shut off her light and hugged her pillow tighter. Tomorrow was Wednesday. If things went according to the pattern she’d get two roses with something about two days before the Fall… whatever that meant. If she didn’t get them, then what? And what if she did? If she did, the first thing she’d do was to show her mother, then Ray and Aaron. Let them know she wasn’t crazy.

Her eyelids became heavy as she gave up trying to fight sleep. Tomorrow would come whether she was well rested or not. Might as well sleep.

So she did.





CHAPTER SIX


Two Days Before the Fall…



SLOAN ROLLED OVER AND ABUSED THE alarm clock on her nightstand for daring to yell at her that it was six o’clock. Stupid piece of machinery.

She got up and went to the bathroom. While brushing her teeth, she peeked in the mirror to make sure the blinds were down and no one could see her. They were. Then again, if she’d made Mr. ICU up, he couldn’t see her from the street anyway, right?

After getting her teeth brushed and some makeup on to cover the big ugly scar, she went to her closet. She moved the candy apple red dress hanging in a clear plastic bag over. She loved that dress. The prettiest she’d seen for the prom. And now she wasn’t sure she’d get to use it. If Ray didn’t want to take her now, she understood. She had made out with his brother with him just inside the door.

Then again, they weren’t exclusive. It wasn’t like she’d made her intentions known or they were going steady. He’d kissed her cheek a few times. That was it. They weren’t sending out wedding invitations or anything.

Her head started pounding, which probably meant she’d have a hallucination soon. It seemed to be the way of things. She’d get a headache and then something would happen. She’d see Boyd looking in the window or the flowers would be on the nightstand next to her room or the petals would be on the island spelling ICU.

A weird little thought crept inside her mind as she pulled out a light blue shirt with a black flower on the top right side from her closet. ICU. What if she was still in the hospital? What if she had never left and she was in some bizarre dream world?

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. That was the stupidest theory ever.

Aaron would call the flower shop when it opened and confirm the flowers were sent to her then they’d all know she wasn’t losing it. That would be the best thing for all of them. Well, it would mean she had an actual stalker. That it was an actual person and not her imagination.

She paired the light blue shirt with a pair of black slacks and flip-flops. The weather was warm enough to show her toes now.

Like always, she looked in the mirror at the vanity before walking out the bedroom door.

That was sad.

Her hair was in a side ponytail, but sort of messy. She’d slept hard last night, and the comb didn’t quite do its job. Her eyes had unattractive black rings under them. At least the horrible state of her eyes caused her scar not to jump out as the first thing seen. Small favors and all.

Behind her eyes, her head killed her. Even if she hadn’t made it up, and the notes and flowers had been real, something was making these headaches worse. Stress or something else, she needed to know. In December when Boyd attacked her in the kitchen, he’d smacked her head pretty hard into the sink faucet. She’d had headaches ever since, but until recently, not as intense and not as often. It could be stress since she was, well, stressed about all of this. It could also be something more. At eighteen, she didn’t need her mother to set up an appointment for her. The doctor wouldn’t be a bad idea, but she’d wait until next week. No sense going before the countdown was over.

When Sloan made it down the stairs, she expected to see roses sitting somewhere. She figured they’d be sitting in the living room or on the kitchen table. Cautiously, she looked both places. Nothing.

She did find something she didn’t expect, though. Her mother was standing in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal against the island. “What are you doing here?” She could have probably been more tactful and less snarky, but it just came out. Man, she couldn’t wait to get back to her old self.

“Good morning to you too.” Her mother smiled over her coffee. How sad was it that her mother was used to her smarminess? Too sad in Sloan’s opinion. She’d run out of friends and allies at this rate.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Sloan sat down and laid her head in her hand. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me or why I’m so snippy lately.”