I do not want to befriendswith this woman.
I want to be much, much more.
I lift my foot, then bring it down with enough force to put it through the first step.
The sound of wood splintering echoes up the stairwell.
“Holy shit,” Sloane whispers. “Don’t do that to the other stairs, okay? I still have some hope we can get out of here without needing a rescue. Are you okay? Did you hurt anything? Is anything cut?”
“I’m good.”
I’m not good.
My heart’s swelling at the concern in her voice.
I need a break. I need to get back on even footing.
And I don’t mean on these damn stairs.
There’s a squeak overhead. “What did you break this time?” Chuck yells.
“Nothing,” Sloane calls.
“That didn’t sound like nothing.”
“We’re fine,” I tell Chuck.
Then I join Sloane, who’s already on her knees, peering into the space under the first board.
“Um, Davis… I’m no expert, but I don’t think that’s good.”
I look at the old, round, dark ball that her flashlight is illuminating.
And my entire body flushes hot, then cold, then hot again.
“Is that…what I think it is? And if it is…are we lucky you still have your leg?”
It’s exactly what she thinks it is.
And we’re getting out of here.
Now.
28
Sloane
“Thankyou again for letting us crash here,” I say as Sarah leads us into the basement of their house, where Beck’s waiting with a spread of food on the bar beyond a comfy-looking couch and a large-screen TV.
Like I need to speak for Davis.
I don’t.
I know that.
He didn’t even ride with me in the car on the way here.
He took his bike and followed us.
