by R. R. Smythe
The driver’s side window rolled down, and Sloan squinted through the dark to see inside. “You okay?” an unfamiliar male voice said. Whoever it was didn’t sound much older than her.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She rocked on the balls of her feet so she could be ready to run if the situation escalated beyond friendly chatter. “Just out for a walk.”
“In the dark?”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” she said truthfully.
Sloan heard a hint of laughter coming from the car. At least, it didn’t sound menacing. “Like I said, are you okay?”
“Fine,” she said with an undercurrent of defiance. She wished he’d just go on his merry way.
“In my experience, people don’t go for walks in the dark when everything is fine.”
“I’m… I will be fine. Thanks for stopping. You must be in a hurry.” She tucked her hands under her elbows and walked back up the little hill. Seeing the lights and hearing the annoying music coming from the farmhouse filled her with dread. Between the house and conversing with a stranger alone in the dark, she figured the house would be safer, but not by much.
“I don’t have to be at work until eleven,” he yelled. “I can give you a lift to your house if you want.”
Sloan spun around, half expecting him to be standing behind her with a rag full of chloroform. “Thanks. That’s sweet, but it’s not necessary. I can get my friend to take me home.” Lord, please don’t let her be drunk.
She started to turn back around when he yelled again. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
Of course she didn’t. It wasn’t like she could see him in the shadows. “Should I?”
“Guess not. I’ve not been back in town all that long, but I know you.”
The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Who was this guy?
“You’re Sloan Bridges. You used to date, and I use that term loosely, my brother back in the day.”
That didn’t help much. “Could you be more specific?”
His laugh filled the space between them. “Had a lot of boyfriends, have you?”
“More than my fair share,” she admitted regretfully.
“We all have a past, Sloan. Don’t let it get you down.”
Easier said than done. “So, who is your brother?”
“I’m not surprised you don’t remember. You were both eating paste in Kindergarten back then. Ray Hunter.”
Ray Hunter! Her face lit up when she recognized the name. When she was six years old, Ray had been her first official school boyfriend. He was also her first kiss. Unfortunately, that kiss on the cheek during nap time landed him in time out next to Mrs. Dobson’s desk. Sloan had always felt bad about that. “I remember Ray! Wow, so you’re Adam or Aidan… I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name.”
“Aaron.”
“Aaron Hunter! Yeah. I remember you now! You and Ray and your mom moved after Christmas that year. Broke my heart.”
“I’m sure you bounced back quickly.”
She couldn’t deny that. “I didn’t know you were back. Are Ray and your mom here, too?”
There was a pause, and Sloan wondered for a second if he had heard her. “Ray is. My mom’s not.” The way he said it let Sloan know he’d rather have his teeth pulled out than talk about her. “Anyway, I’m going back to town to get ready for work. If you still live next to Donna Robinson, it’s on my way.”
“I do, but Donna doesn’t live there anymore. She’s in Evening Oak Nursing Home.” She found herself walking toward him as she spoke.
“I hate that.”
“She’s been in there about a month. I visit her now and then. She’s doing as well as you’d expect, but she can’t take care of herself anymore. Her house has been on the market ever since she went in.”
“They don’t think she’ll come back home?”
“Doesn’t look like it.” Thinking about Donna always made her sad. A few months before, the woman had been full of life. Then a stroke nearly killed her. It did take away her ability to walk and care for herself, but not her mind. Though slow to talk, Donna was as spry as ever. “How do you even remember where I live?”
“Good memory,” he said. “Donna was always nice to me and Ray. She took care of us when my mom wouldn’t… couldn’t,” he corrected quickly. “And she used to make us cookies. She took us to church a few times.”
Sloan heard the genuine sadness in his voice. Something about it made her not as apprehensive as she had been a few moments before. Anyone who held on to such sweet memories that long wouldn’t hurt her. She hoped not anyway. “Yeah, she was. I always liked her. She took me to church, too. I still go to her church, but it’s not the same without her.”
A few seconds went by before he spoke again. “So, it’s obvious you’re freezing and something or someone ran you out of that house.” He motioned toward the lights on the hill. ”You don’t want to go there, for whatever reason. I can help. Last chance. Let me drive you home. I promise I won’t hurt you.”
“Says the guy sitting in a strange car talking to an innocent girl in the middle of the night.”
“A Mustang isn’t strange.”
“No, but the rest of this is.” Torn, she looked back toward Boyd’s house filled with mostly judgmental classmates; then she shifted to Aaron’s car and bit her lip. “Okay. Look, I’ll text my friend, Mackenzie, and tell her I have a ride home.”
“Good.”
“I’ll also tell her that if she doesn’t hear from me in one hour to call the police.”
“Ouch,” he laughed. “You think that little of me?”
“I don’t know you well enough to think anything about you. That’s the point.” She pulled her cell from her side pocket.
Got a ride home. Aaron Hunter. If you don’t hear from me in 1 hr, call police.
When she reached the passenger door, he leaned over and opened it for her. “Sticks sometimes,” he said.
She thanked him and slid into the leather seat, all the while praying she wasn’t making a very stupid mistake.
“Ready?” he asked with his hand perched on the gear shift.
“Sure.” Sloan buckled her seat belt and held on to her cell phone tightly. When it vibrated, she jumped.
Aaron Hunter? U Okay?
Long story. Will tell you tom.
Then a thought hit her, and she could have smacked herself for not asking sooner. Have u been drinking? I can go back if u have.
No, MOM. I haven’t.
The last text stung. Sloan didn’t want to be her friend’s conscience or moral compass, and most definitely not her mom. Part of her missed how it used to be. At least back then, she didn’t run out of parties and end up in unknown cars.
“So,” he said, bringing her back to uncomfortable reality. “What happened?”
“Excuse me?”
He turned the heater up to full blast. The warmth felt so good that she laid her phone in her lap and placed her hands on the vents. “What happened to you? You were standing in the dark. It’s freezing, and you don’t have on a coat. That tells me you ran pretty fast from something pretty terrible. Plus, your hair’s soaked and you smell like a frat house. No offense.”
Sloan sniffed her hair. He wasn’t wrong.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“You sure? No guy tried to—hurt you or something?”
“Oh no, nothing like that.” That hadn’t even crossed her mind. “No physical harm except for the beer smell which you’ve already pointed out. My mom’s gonna kill me.”
“And what about the other stuff? The emotional and whatever else there is. Did you get into a fight with your boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“That a fact?”
She could swear she saw him smirk. “Boyd Lawrence, the guy who lives there, used to be my boyfriend until about three months ago. Now he loves to flaunt his new ‘love’ Darcy.” Just saying her name put a bad tast
e in Sloan’s mouth.
“Sounds like a great guy.”
“Don’t it though.” Sloan fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“And I take it you don’t like this Darcy girl.”
“How did you guess?” she scowled. She could hear her mom’s disembodied voice yelling at her to stop. It caused wrinkles.
“Just a gift I have.”
“Handy,” she sighed, deciding she might as well tell him what happened. It would be a long ride home otherwise. “Darcy used to be my best friend. We’ve hung out since we were both in diapers.”
“And she just all at once turned on you? With no cause? She stole that Boyd guy from you, right?”
“Nothing that soap opera-ish. And she does have a cause, I guess. In her mind, anyway.” Sloan tapped the case of her phone rhythmically. “She has taunted me without letting up since August fourteenth of this year.”
“I’ll bite. What happened August fourteenth?”
“I got saved. Became a Christian.”
“How evil of you.”
“I know, right? I just had enough of it tonight, ya know? I came with my friend, Mackenzie, because she said I was becoming a stick in the mud and needed fun.”
“Looks like you had a blast.”
“Oh, yeah, it was great.” The eye-rolling urge became too powerful. “Everything was fine until Darcy locked me in the bathroom with her. She was drunk, kept mocking me and doing her normal Darcy act. Then she got in my face and threw her beer on me. So I ran.”
“Because you were scared of her? Hey, I get it. She was off her rocker, out of control…”
“That’s not why I ran.”
“Then why?” He actually sounded interested.
“I was afraid that if I didn’t, I’d attack her. I wanted so badly to smack that ugly smirk off her face.”
Aaron got very quiet like he was letting it all process. “So—you ran because you were afraid you would hurt her.”
“Basically. I can have a temper at times. I’m saved, not perfect. I wanted to hit her so hard. You have no idea.”
“I can imagine.”
Sloan wondered if he had a temper himself.
The car slowed at the four-way stop that connected Brown Hollow Road to Highway 70. Sloan tensed, realizing she really was at Aaron’s mercy. If he turned left, he would end up in Nashville. The road straight ahead led to Harrisburg, a very small town with two red lights and three factories that employed most of the people in the county. If he turned right, he would end up in Chapel Hill, Sloan’s desired destination.
The streetlight above the stop sign illuminated the interior of the car just enough for her to see Aaron. He had dark, wavy, almost curly hair a little on the longer side. The front poofed back, most likely with the help of some extra hold gel. If Sloan remembered correctly, it had been curly when they were kids. Aaron was a grade ahead of her and Ray, so she didn’t see him very much at school. He had on a black leather jacket with a black button-down shirt underneath. His olive skin and brown eyes made him look nothing like his half-brother, Ray, who she remembered had blonde hair and blue eyes. The guys had the same mother but different fathers. Aaron obviously took after his father since Sloan remembered his mother as having sheet-white, pale skin.
Aaron sat up and tapped his fingers on the wheel, looking first to the right, then to the left. “Hmm… which way to go?” From the playful grin he tried to hide, she knew he was kidding… or hoped he was anyway.
“You’d better turn the way that takes me home,” she played along. “I did tell Mackenzie to call the police if she didn’t hear from me. You’ve got about thirty minutes, buddy.”
“I can do a lot in thirty minutes.” He smirked.
“Yeah, like get me home.” Sloan knew she should be leery of him, but she couldn’t be. For some reason, she had a good feeling about him. She prayed that feeling didn’t lead her down the wrong path.
“Oh, all right,” he sighed overdramatically. His big brown eyes shone in the streetlight. “Can’t have the cops after me again,” he said as he turned right toward Chapel Hill.
“Wait.”
“Something wrong?”
“You said you can’t have the cops after you again. What did you do to have them after you before?”
“Which time?” He clearly enjoyed making her uncomfortable.
“There was more than once?” She had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping. Little Aaron Hunter had changed a lot in nine years.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head. It wasn’t anything horribly bad.”
“That’s what they all say.”
“Who?”
“Serial killers and murderers.”
“If you thought I was a murderer, you never would have gotten in the car with me.”
“I might have if I thought it was a better alternative than going back to that house and dealing with Darcy Perry.”
He laughed at that. “That bad, huh?”
She shrugged and stared at the black nothingness of acres of farmland outside her window.
He took a deep breath. “I’m not a murderer. Never killed anybody. I was wrongly accused, actually.”
“Of what?”
“Of something I didn’t do.”
He smiled and she glared. “Thanks. That helps a lot.”
“Sorry, it’s just a long story.”
“Tease.” She giggled. Then the more she thought about it, the more curious she became about him. “It had to be rough, though. Being accused of something you didn’t do.”
The fields of tall grass and scattered trees gradually became speckled with the lights of houses the closer they got to town.
“It happens. Anyway, I’m not that guy anymore.”
“Saw the light, did you?”
“Not in the found Jesus way. But things happened. I turned eighteen a little over a year ago and had to grow up.”
“I’ll be eighteen on December second.” She couldn’t hold in her excitement.
“This Tuesday?”
“Yeah,” she beamed. She had looked forward to this birthday for as long as she could remember. Her mom promised they would go shopping for the car of her dreams. She’d had her license for a while but had to wait two years longer than everyone else she knew for a car. The last few days had seemed like torture.
“Well, let me be the first to wish you a very happy birthday, Sloan Bridges.”
“Why, thank you, Aaron Hunter.” She grinned back.
Since it was past eight o’clock, every red light in Chapel Hill flashed yellow. Aaron drove through two of them then gently pushed on the brakes. “Here’s your house.”
“I still can’t believe you remember all of this.”
He shrugged and flipped on his blinker. “I always liked this neighborhood.”
Straight ahead was a two-car garage covered with white siding that matched the house. When she was little, both sides of the garage were used. After her dad left, her mom’s side had the only car. That would change on Tuesday.
The garage was attached by a small covered walkway to the two-story house with a large wrap around porch along the front. Except for color and a few minor touches, most of the houses on Oak Street looked similar. All had small front yards and larger backyards. Some were fenced. Some weren’t. Sloan’s wasn’t.
“Do you still live in the same house you did before?”
“Yeah. My mom never sold it. Surprisingly,” he sounded bitter. “It was my great-grandma’s so totally paid for.”
“That’s good then. I’m glad you are getting to stick around.”
“Me, too.” His eyes caught hers and for a minute, she couldn’t look away.
She got her wits about her finally and grabbed the door handle. “Well, thanks for bringing me home.”
“Anytime.”
The cold air slammed against her, and she immediately missed the warmth of Aaron’s Mustang. With one last smile, she shut the car door and walked the stone path to the p
orch steps. She got her key from her pocket and placed it in the lock. An oak sign that had been on the crimson door as long as she could remember welcomed her home. With one last wave to Aaron, she walked inside and locked the door.
To her right was the living room decorated in blues and chocolate browns. At one time, the room had been a dark shade of pink. It changed the day Sloan’s dad took off with her mom’s best friend’s twenty-year old niece, Tiffani, whose favorite color was pink. Her mom became a different person, trying everything she could to ‘stay’ young. Sometimes, Sloan thought she went too far.
Sloan figured her mom would be asleep in her bedroom upstairs and didn’t want to wake her. She quietly laid her keys in the antique bowl sitting on her grandma’s cherry table in the foyer. The large silver mirror hanging over the table caught her reflection. She wrinkled her nose at the sorry sight. Her golden hair, thanks to frequent salon visits, fell wildly out of its hairband. The little braid along the side that had been so cute when she left the house barely clung to the falling out bobby pin, and her side-swept bangs were still damp from Darcy’s well-aimed beer. A much-needed shower would have to wait, though. Her stomach needed food.
Trying to figure out what to eat, she stepped down into the kitchen to her right. Unlike the living room, the kitchen décor survived ‘Tiffani-gate’. White cabinets hovered over charcoal-colored countertops. All appliances were stainless steel, and a long granite island with a white base sat in the middle of the room.
Sloan went to the fridge to see if she could scrounge up something. Neither of them had gone shopping since Thanksgiving. She was so tired of leftover turkey and dressing, and it had only been one day. Noticing that the milk had expired the day before, she resigned herself to eating a bowl of cereal without it.
She threw a bite of the sugary cereal in her mouth and looked out the window over the sink. At a little after ten, the neighborhood was dead. Cars passed sparsely, and most houses already had their lights off for the night. The street rolled up early in Chapel Hill.
Tired and ready to join her neighbors in sleep, she took her bowl and turned toward the foyer. A dark figure standing in the doorway made her scream and fumble with the bowl.