Page 19

Mallowater, TX, 2008

Sloan rode with Dylan to the creek to look for her mom. She hadn’t wanted to leave her car at the restaurant, but Dylan insisted she was in no state to drive. He was right. Tears poured from her eyes as she told him more about her mother’s mental history, about the night she’d driven to the Hadfield’s with the pistol, about everything.

“I realize it’s hard, but you’ve got to cling to the good memories of her,” Dylan said. “You can’t forget the bad, but you can focus more on the good. That’s the only power we have.”

Sloan knew he was right. Since the visit with her father, she’d focused more on the happy memories, the ones she’d tried to forget her entire life. The ones that had hurt too much to remember. It was helping a little.

Dylan reached across the center console and took Sloan’s hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Sorry for ruining the date,” Sloan said.

“How could it be ruined? I’m still with you instead of being at home, trying to forget the entire night happened like I do with most of my dates.”

“Well, the night is young. Don’t count that out yet,” Sloan said as they arrived at the creek.

“Think we should split up?” Dylan asked.

A light tapping on Sloan’s window made them both jump. A flashlight shone in the car. Once Sloan’s eyes adjusted, she recognized Walt behind it. Sloan couldn’t believe how old he looked, so frail and gray. But he had those same kind eyes. The ones he’d given Noah.

Walt backed away as she opened the door. “Sloan? I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Sloan stood to hug him. Though she’d communicated with Walt many times, she hadn’t seen him since her mother was committed in 1995. “Great to see you, Walt.”

He pulled back to study her. “Your hair’s longer, and I like the wave in it.”

Sloan brushed her hair off her shoulders. “Yeah, that Meg Ryan look really didn’t work for me.”

Walt laughed. “It looked just fine. I think you got taller too.”

Sloan lifted her foot. “It’s the boots.”

“Well, it’s sure good to see you. Doreen and I keep hoping you’ll visit, but we understand how busy you must be.”

Sloan averted her gaze to the ground. She didn’t realize Dylan was out of the car until he was beside her, extending his hand to Walt and introducing himself.

“Are you here for the same reason we are?” Sloan asked. Walt was retired, so he wasn’t here patrolling the area for kids drinking.

“Yeah. Noah called about Caroline. He was tied up at the office and wanted me to check.”

“And?”

Walt shook his head. “No luck so far. Nobody around here saw her or called it in.”

Sloan looked down the long, winding river. “I tried to call her twice on the way over, and she didn’t answer. Not that there’s great reception here.” She looked up at the moon, barely visible behind the clouds. “The dark’s going to make it hard to search.” A memory surfaced—hundreds of people walking down this river looking for Ridge. Hundreds of voices, hundreds of flashlights. Goosebumps covered Sloan’s arms despite the humidity clinging to the air.

“I’m going to grab a flashlight and head downriver.” Dylan opened the door of his jeep. There’s a place off the beaten path where kids hang out. They might’ve seen her.”

“Good idea,” Sloan said. “You lead the way.”

Dylan shot her a glance from over the jeep’s hood. “Come here a sec.”

Sloan stomped over to Dylan as Walt turned away, pretending to look at his phone. “What?” she asked.

“The type who hang out there, they wouldn’t appreciate me bringing a cop.”

“Walt’s not a cop anymore.”

“Come on, Sloan. Remember how I said once an addict, always an addict? It’s sort of the same for cops. If he comes out, everyone will leave. I taught a lot of these kids, so they trust me.”

Sloan tipped her head back and exhaled. “Okay. I’ll ask Walt to come with me to check the old campsite. Mom might’ve gone there. That’s where she claims Ridge the crow lives.”

Dylan put his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. And for the second time tonight since arriving at the creek, Sloan got goosebumps.

“Almost there.” Sloan used her cell phone for light while Walt followed behind with his flashlight.

“If Caroline made it this far, she’s in better shape than me,” he huffed.

“Mom comes a lot, but usually not after dark,” Sloan said.

“Reliving better memories?”

“No.” Sloan laughed uncomfortably. “She thinks Ridge talks to her up here.”

“Sorry. The lucidity seems to come and go.”

“Yeah,” Sloan said. “I’m sorry I left you alone to deal with her.”

“You didn’t leave me alone to deal with her. You left for college, as is a normal course of life. Caroline was hospitalized. They took care of her.”

“Come on, Walt. You guys visited her and brought food. Your family cleaned out the house, rented it out, and managed the money from it. You did a million jobs that should’ve been mine.” Sloan stopped. “Here we are.”

Walt shone the flashlight around the campsite. “Somebody’s been here. Still embers in that fire pit.”

Sloan wasn’t looking at the firepit. Her eyes moved straight to the swamp chestnut oak tree and the list of names still etched deep into the trunk. Jay, Caroline, Sloan, Ridge . Like most monuments, it honored something long dead and gone.

“I’ve gotta take a break before we go back down.” Walt lowered himself onto a log. Sloan sat beside him and tried to dial her mother’s number again, but there was no signal. “She’s probably gone home,” Walt said. “If not, I can call it in as an endangered person and get some officers here.”

Sloan closed her eyes. “I’m not sure if I can do this, Walt—live with her forever.”

“We need to get her back into that home or hire a caretaker,” Walt said. “You go back to work in August, right?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Then we’ve got a little time.”

Sloan pushed the button on the side of her watch, lighting it up. “We shouldn’t stay long. No reception, and Dylan may try to call.”

“Right.” Walt smiled. “That Dylan Lawrence seems like a nice young man.”

Sloan grinned. “It’s our first date, but I like him a lot.”

Walt nudged her shoulder. “So why the long face?”

Sloan chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Dylan and I both have so much baggage. My ex-husband said something once when we were fighting. He said he couldn’t carry both of our baggage any longer, so he had to put mine down.” Sloan shook her head. “I don’t even know what baggage Liam Bevan ever had. His life was pretty perfect. So, if someone with so little baggage couldn’t carry mine, how is Dylan going to when his hands are full of his own?”

“What bullshit.”

Sloan flinched backward. She had known Walt Dawson her entire life and this was only the second time she’d ever heard him curse. “Walt . . .” She grinned.

“Well, it’s true. Liam probably read that in some self-help book, not to carry someone else’s baggage, but in the Bible, the word is burdens, and it says we are supposed to carry each other’s.”

Sloan shook her head. “I’m so screwed up, though.”

“No, you’re not,” he said. “You’re the same screwed up as the rest of us.”

Sloan laughed. “I miss these talks.”

“Me too, baby.”

“I’m sorry for leaving like I did. I’ve never apologized. You must have been so angry at how I hurt Noah.”

Walt waved his hand dismissively. “Doreen and I weren't mad. We never really expected you and Noah to grow up and get married. People change. Lives change. Noah ended up just fine, and so did you.”

“Maybe so.” Sloan stood. “I’m going to get back down and keep looking, but if you need to wait—”

“I’m good,” Walt said, but he seemed to struggle to stand. “Let’s find your mama.”

Sloan and Walt were halfway back to the road when her phone sounded with notifications. Three missed calls, two text messages, all from Dylan. She called him back without reading the texts.

“Dylan, we’re on our way back. What’s going on?”

“She’s hurt, Sloan.” Dylan sounded winded. “But she’s gonna be okay.”

Sloan moved the phone away from her ear so Walt could listen.

“She hit her head, and there’s a lot of blood, but she’s conscious. I’m driving her to the hospital now. She’s not saying much, but she’s awake.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Sloan ended the call, and she and Walt continued. She fell near the end, ripping a hole in her jeans, and Walt struggled to catch his breath, but they made it into his truck and the hospital in record time.

Dylan jumped up as soon as he spotted Sloan and Walt jogging through the automatic doors. “The nurses just took her back.”

“Can I go?” She turned to the front desk. “That’s my mom back there. Can I go?”

The woman behind the plexiglass stood. “Fill out this paperwork, and I’ll check.”

Sloan plopped down on one of the beat-up plastic green chairs next to Dylan and started filling out the first page. She stopped at medical history. “This will fill up at least ten pages with all her mental diagnoses,” she said, tossing the clipboard on the seat next to her. “What was she doing out there?”

“One of my students saw her balancing on the edge—said she almost slipped several times before disappearing out of view. We found her about a quarter mile away. From the shoe prints, it looked like she slipped in the mud and hit her head on a rock.” Dylan shook his head. “She was so close to the water; she could have fallen in.”

“Write this down, Sloan,” Walt said. “Write everything down like you did before.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m going to step outside and call Doreen.”

Sloan looked at Dylan. “Thanks for finding her, for bringing her here. If you need to go home, you can. It’s late.”

Dylan loosened his tie. “I want to be here with you. Unless it would make you more comfortable if I left.”

Sloan leaned her head back on the chair. “Are you always this nice, or is it a first date thing?”

“Guess we’ll have to plan a second date so you can decide.”

If they weren’t sitting in an emergency waiting room that smelled of antiseptic and vomit, Sloan might have kissed him right then and there. Instead, she reached out and took Dylan’s hand.

As if the action had somehow summoned him, the electronic doors slid open, and in walked Noah.

Sloan released Dylan’s hand and jumped up. “Noah.”

“Hey,” Noah said, finally peeling his eyes away from Dylan. “Is Caroline okay?”

“Not sure. They won’t let me back there.”

“Come on.” Noah placed his hand on the small of her back. “I’ll take care of that.”

“It’s okay that I left her, right?” Sloan asked two hours later as Dylan drove her home.

“Of course. She’s going to be fine,” Dylan said. “They’re only keeping her for observation.”

“She told me to go,” Sloan explained. “I wasn’t going to, but after she fell asleep, I figured it was a safe time to slip away. To slip out of these boots.”

Dylan pulled into the driveway. “I like your boots; they’re nice.”

“Well, that’s good because they aren’t comfortable. Had I known I’d be running down an embankment at Crow’s Nest Creek, I would have worn sneakers.”

Dylan placed his hand on Sloan’s skin where her jeans had torn. “And some sturdier denim.” He kept his fingers there and rubbed against her knee. She felt the contrast of the calloused fingers of a guitar player against her smooth skin. Dylan leaned forward, and she did the same, keeping intense eye contact. She closed her eyes in anticipation just as her phone rang from inside her pocket.

“Sorry.” A flush spread across Sloan’s cheeks, but Dylan just laughed.

“Par for the course tonight, right?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Sloan looked at Brad’s name on her phone and sent the call to voicemail.

“Should you answer? Might be the hospital.”

Sloan turned the phone to silent and threw it into her bag. “No. It’s Brad.”

“Brad, your brother?”

“Ugh. Don’t call him that, please,” Sloan said.

“Why was he calling?”

Sloan opened her mouth, then closed it. Dylan didn’t need to hear that she was trying to get in touch with Eddie Daughtry.

Dylan moved his hand from her knee and put it back on the wheel. “Felicity said you’d never even talked to Brad or Kyle. That you hadn’t even reached out to her since that night we met for dinner.”

Sloan’s muscles tensed. “You talk to Felicity?”

Dylan shrugged. “She’s called or texted a few times.”

“Has she?” Sloan scooted to the edge of the seat.

“Oh, come on. Felicity had more questions, just like you did. She’s trying to help your dad.”

“Just like me, huh? Did you take Felicity out to dinner too?”

Dylan thumped his fingers against the steering wheel. “That’s not what I meant.”

“And apparently, you’ve done more than answer a few questions if you’ve talked about me.” Sloan bit down on the side of her cheek. Dylan was a liar. Just like Liam, just like her father. “It was pretty clear during our dinner at Applebee’s that she liked you,” Sloan continued. “I mean, she practically held your hand. I don’t blame you for liking the attention or even liking her, but that’s why I mentioned it that day you came over.”

Dylan lowered his head. “I’m not and have never been interested in Felicity. I was uncomfortable when she took my hand and when you left us there alone. I was interested in you. Am interested in you. Where’s this coming from? I asked an innocent question about Brad calling. How did it turn into this?”

Sloan let out a long breath. “Okay, fine. Brad’s calling me because we’re trying to set up a meeting with Eddie Daughtry.”

Dylan’s face twisted at the mention of Eddie Daughtry, and though Sloan realized she had gone too far, a part of her was glad it had stung. “Are you happy now?” she asked. “You know why Brad called me. Now, tell me why Felicity is calling you .”

Dylan squeezed the wheel and stared into the distance. “I think it’s time for you to go inside.” He didn’t raise his voice, but it was thick with anger.

“Yeah, I’d say it's past time.” Sloan grabbed her purse and climbed out of Dylan’s Jeep, slamming the door behind her.

Sloan woke up on the couch the following morning wearing the previous night’s clothes and having the kind of headache born from hours of intermittent crying mixed with hours of incessant drinking. She had overreacted last night. She realized that now in the fresh light of a new day.

It hurt to imagine Dylan and Felicity talking about her. Even if it was as innocent as Dylan claimed, this proved Sloan wasn’t ready for a relationship—that she’d never be able to trust another man again. If she wanted someone trustworthy, she should have never broken up with Noah Dawson.

At the thought of Noah, fuzzy memories of the night before crept in. Sloan had texted him after her third or fourth glass of wine. She reached for her phone on the arm of the couch, but it wasn’t there. She dug into the cushions until she found it, quickly opening her messages to survey the damage.

Thanks for coming 2night Noah. I always feel stronger when you’re with me. ??

Sloan cringed. She wasn’t sure which was worse. The spelling of tonight or the heart emoji. She scrolled down to read Noah’s response.

Welcome. Sorry I wasn’t able to help find her.

Miraculously, Sloan hadn’t responded to that text. The next message in the thread was from Noah again, almost an hour later. Sloan read it and the ensuing conversation.

So, what’s with you and Dylan Lawrence?

Nada

Well, that’s good.

Oh yeah? Why’s that?

Because to use the poor man to get the information you want is low.

And what if I’m using him for sex?

Sloan brought her hands to her face, letting the phone fall to her lap. She didn’t want to read the rest of the texts; she wanted to curl up on the sofa and die. But she had to read them all, so she could do damage control.

She picked up the phone and looked at the last message from Noah.

Goodnight, Sloan.

She had let the conversation die there and thankfully hadn’t texted Dylan or Felicity. She needed to put some kind of lock screen on her phone, a puzzle she could only solve sober.

Sloan stood from the couch. She needed to take a shower before visiting her mom. She needed to return Brad’s call, then text an apology to Noah and Dylan too. But in Dylan’s text, she needed to clarify that an apology didn’t mean she wanted a relationship because she didn’t. Well, she sort of did, but she certainly didn’t need one. Not with these trust issues.

But Sloan wasn’t up for any of that, so she grabbed her keys. She needed to clear her head and knew just where to go.

She drove to the creek and hiked back to their old campsite. She was huffing by the time she made it. Hangovers and steep terrain didn’t mix well. The two-person black tent close to the fire pit caught her off guard. She had no claim to this land, but it felt sacred. Like whoever camped here was walking over her grave. As much as Sloan wanted to rest under that old swamp oak that bore her family’s names, she didn’t want to disturb whoever was inside that tent. She turned to leave when she saw something shiny behind the tent. A cage. She stepped closer and saw a sleek black crow resting on a wooden perch.

As Sloan approached, she expected the bird to be frightened. That he would beat his feathers, squawk, and begin a frantic flight around the cage. But he only turned his head, looked at Sloan, and muttered one word. One word over and over and over. “Ridge. Ridge. Ridge,” the crow echoed in a voice that sounded too much like a man’s.

Sloan stumbled backward into a shrub. A branch scraped against her skin. Blood dripped down the back of her leg, but she didn’t take her eyes off the bird.

She must have misheard. There was no way. She was still drunk, dreaming, or as crazy as her mother.

As if to refute the thought, the crow opened its beak again and repeated the haunting mantra. “Ridge. Ridge. Ridge.”

Tears as warm as the blood dripping down her leg fell from Sloan’s eyes. “What’s going on?” she asked as if the crow might explain. “What the hell is going on?”

Suddenly, there was movement from behind her, leaves and sticks crunching underneath someone’s weight. The hair on her arms rose as she turned toward the woods.

She noticed the shoes first. Nikes as black and slick as the crow. She looked up slowly until she met the stranger’s eyes. But it wasn’t a stranger. Twenty years had passed since she’d looked into those gentle blue eyes, but she recognized them. She noticed the tiny scar above his left eyebrow. Her chest tingled. Her breath caught. She finally exhaled in a series of short choppy breaths.

“Ridge,” she managed.

With an uneasy smile, he took another step forward. “Hey, sis.”