Saint Sloan (Saint Sloan #1)

“What?” her mother asked, frustrated. “What was here, Sloan? You’re freaking me out.”


“I’m sorry, Mom!” she yelled. Why did they all have to have this dumbfounded look on their faces? It was getting on the very last of her fragile nerves. “I’m not trying to freak you out, but it was here.” She spread her hands over the table. “They were here. All of them.”

It was Aaron’s time to add his two cents. “Are you taking those pills again?”

She stopped in her tracks and wanted to slap him.

“Pills? What pills? You’re taking drugs?” Her mom was freaking out. And she didn’t even know about the stalker part yet.

Aaron accusing her of taking drugs hurt Sloan more than she ever thought possible. She trusted him. Part of her even… liked him. And here he, in front of her mother, accused her of drugs! How dare he.

“Answer him, Sloan,” her mother interjected. Sloan could tell by the tone of her mother’s voice that she believed him. Tears stung her eyes when she looked at the three people, the three people she cared about most in this world, looking at her like she was doing something wrong.

“I. Am. Not. Nor. Have. I. Ever. Done. Drugs.” She enunciated each word and looked at each of them individually. “The only thing I took today was aspirin. That’s it. I don’t know why I’m so tired, but it probably had to do with not getting enough sleep, or, I don’t know, being scared out of my mind with this psychopath after me. How about we focus on that?”

She was shaking. Angry shaking. How dare they accuse of her things when someone was stalking her!

“Whoa!” Her mom threw her hands up in the air. “You have a stalker. Sloan Bridges, why am I just hearing about this now?”

“Great.” She laughed through the tears. “This is exactly how I wanted to tell my mom. Thanks, Aaron. Just thanks.”

She stared at him, hoping he got how furious she was at him. He could have taken her outside and had a private conversation with her. He hadn’t needed to ask her right in front of God and everyone.

“Stalker or not. Roses or not. You’re acting funny, Sloan. Not yourself. I’m worried about you. We all… we care,” Aaron said, looking at her with the same intensity he had all evening.

He could take his intensity and shove it for all she cared.

“You have until three to tell me what’s going on.” Her mother threw her purse down on the empty island, the island that once had the letters ICU on it. Sloan knew they had been there, so where were they now?

“One.” Her mother said.

“They were here,” Sloan told Aaron, not paying any attention to her mother’s countdown. “They were here.” She never took her eyes off Aaron. She hated him at that second, but she had to make him understand. He was the only one she could look at. The only one she could focus all of her attention on. “Rose petals. They were all over the island.”

“Two.”

“Mother, stop!” she yelled. She’d never yelled at her mother, but she couldn’t stop herself. “I’m trying to explain, but you won’t let me.”

“You aren’t explaining,” her mom yelled back at her. They were all screaming apparently. “You’re talking about roses and the island and whatever else. I don’t understand, Sloan. Are you on drugs?”

“No, Mom. I’m not. I swear I’m not. And I’m not crazy. They were right here. The roses. The petals. They were here.”

She looked from her mom to Aaron to Ray. None of them looked like they believed her. Great. Just wonderful. “You know what. Forget it. Just forget it. I’m done.”

Sloan turned and ran out the back door. She stumbled a few times when she got out there and had to catch herself on the car hood. What in the world was happening to her? Boyd had hit her pretty hard in the head back in December. Was she having side effects from Boyd throwing her against the sink and hitting her head on the faucet? Sleepiness? Drowsiness? Insanity?

She shut her eyes and bowed her head while holding on to the hood. She didn’t want to be insane. She’d seen it. She’d seen it. She knew she had. The flowers had been in her car. They had been in her room. They had been in her locker! She hadn’t made them up. Okay, so no one else had seen them, but that didn’t mean she’d made them up.

Pressure on her shoulder made her yell and turn around. Aaron looked down at her, heat filling his eyes. “Freaking out or pouting?”

“Excuse me?” she huffed.

“Are you out here freaking out or pouting? ‘Cause I can leave you alone if you are pouting. It’s your right. If you’re freaking out, I might be able to help.”

“Like I’d want your help,” she bit back. “If you’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“I never said you were crazy. Let’s just get that straight right now.”

Kelly Martin's books