Then again, neither did being dizzy.
Steadying every nerve she had, she eased her foot back onto the gas and rolled toward the house. She turned next to the black mailbox, the one where she’d stood the first time she’d met Aaron. That night wasn’t her favorite. Boyd had been having a party and she’d known she shouldn’t have gone, but Mackenzie had wanted to go, so she’d gone too. Darcy had gotten drunk and had cornered her in a bathroom, spouting all sorts of horrible things at her — not to mention the beer she’d thrown in her face.
Sloan had run all the way to the bottom of the driveway. Aaron had pulled up in his dark blue Mustang. He’d recognized her, but she hadn’t him. It hadn’t been her fault. She hadn’t seen him in about ten years.
She’d been so nervous to be around him that night, but had accepted a ride home so Mackenzie wouldn’t have to leave Travis. Her life had changed that night. Some for the better. Some for the worse. One thing was for sure: Sloan didn’t get regret getting in the car with him. And she didn’t regret meeting Ray. What she did regret was what happened to Boyd: being in a wheelchair all of his life. She regretted him going nuts and attacking her, just because they’d broken up — just because he’d thought she deserved it.
Boyd’s life was changed forever now, stuck in that wheelchair and facing charges. It was his fault of course; he’d been the one who’d attacked her. Still, Sloan couldn’t help feeling like she’d egged him on somehow.
Stupid guilt.
She slammed her hands against the steering wheel to knock some sense into herself. “He’s the bad guy here, Sloan. He attacked you. Don’t you go getting all soft.”
With her foot back on the gas, she drove to the head of the driveway and put the car into park. It looked like it always had: house with white siding, large front porch with the swing she and Boyd swung on when they’d dated. They’d had their first kiss there. They’d also gone to more bases than she cared to admit on that swing.
Mr. Lawrence’s car was missing, which made sense since he’d supposedly gone away on a business trip. An Explorer sat in the driveway with spiny seeds from the maple trees — a sure sign of spring — on the windshield and hood. Boyd’s shiny black truck sat off to the side. The truck he’d never drive again. The first time they’d ever slept together was in that truck, way in the back of the hollow, next to the Falls. It hadn’t been anything to write home about. It sort of hurt and was a bit uncomfortable. It wasn’t her first time. Far from it, but still… it hadn’t been the best-feeling experience in her life. He hadn’t seemed to notice though. Now that she thought back on it, he’d never even asked her if she’d had a good time. Just pulled his clothes together and started back home. The roar of Chapel Falls had faded behind them.
So much for that trip down memory lane.
Sloan’s legs shook as she got out of her car and stood on the gravel. Why was she there? Well, she knew why she was there, but really… why? This probably wasn’t the best idea ever. Ray had just been there. And what if Boyd really was stalking her? Was being at his house such a good idea?
Still…
She needed to know.
Besides, his mom’s vehicle was in the driveway so she wouldn’t be alone with him. She just needed five minutes. Just to see what he knew. If he knew anything. It would narrow down the list of suspects in her mind.
With a deep breath and trembling fingers, Sloan opened the screen door and tapped on the white wooden door behind it. She waited a few seconds, feeling a chill not from the weather. Chapel Hill was very pleasant with a high in the low sixties that day. It would be colder on Friday for prom, of course. She’d always imagined she’d go to prom with Boyd… Another slip into memory lane.
Shivering from the fear and adrenaline running through her, she tapped on the door again. Finally, the doorknob rotated, and Sloan plastered a smile on her face to greet Mrs. Bridges. It had been a while since she’d seen her.
The door opened to nothing. No one stood in her eye line. Dread filled her stomach as her eyes slowly lowered until they found Boyd sitting in his wheelchair with the door in his hand. He didn’t look shocked to see her, but he didn’t look happy about it either.
His face looked older and more worn than she remembered. It had always been attractive, very handsome. Now he had dark circles under his light blue eyes, and his skin looked like it needed the sun. His blond hair lay disarrayed around his head. It wasn’t from any styling product, she deduced. Why would he need to dress when he couldn’t leave his house?