Page 102 of The Silent Note

“Adventurous? Me?”

“I may have blinked out, but I was there long enough to see who was initiating what.”She purses her lips, holds out her hand and does a terrible Oliver Twist impression.“Please, sir. Can I have some?—”

“Finish that sentence and I’m hiring an exorcist.”

She laughs at me.“Was this time as enjoyable as the last time?”

Face burning with heat, I look at anything but Sloane or the shadow of Zane’s back outside the window.

“Come on,”Sloane begs.“I’m dying to know.”

“Pun intended?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Things went as expected.” I order the ride and finish tying my hair into a ponytail to avoid looking at her.

“Don’t feed me that bull. Last time, you had a bed. And he had both hands, so how did he manage in a backseat of all places?”

“Trust me, one hand was… enough.”

Her eyes twinkle.

“And that’s all you’re getting. We are not discussing Zane’s…” I stammer over the words and Sloane opens her mouth to supply me with, undoubtedly, a bunch of crass descriptions—so I quickly tack on, “performance.” I narrow my eyes. “Why areyou here anyway? You usually don’t show up this fast after you disappear.”

“Humph.”Sloane folds her arms over her chest.“Maybe it’s because you’re so cranky? I seem to show up most when you’re in a bad mood. Which sucks for me.”

My eyes widen in realization. Talking to Sloane always made me feel better when she was alive, and it seems like the pattern is continuing now.

“Do you think that’s why you’re appearing to me? Are you… my guardian angel?”

Sloane bursts out laughing.

I chuckle with her.

“You and I both know I’d be the worst angel ever.”

I smile a little wider. “Well,whateveryou are, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” Sloane’s head swivels away. “Oh, look. Your ride’s here.”

I check my app and realize she’s right.

The wind is chilly when I step out of the car. The clouds in the distance look darker, promising rain.

Great. Now that I’m not in need of stormy weather, the sky is finally willing to cooperate.

“Grey?” Zane’s voice booms when I shuffle toward the other car.

My rideshare driver winds the window down. “Jamieson?”

“That’s me.” I open the door.

Zane slams it shut.

I whip my head up, doing my best to look at anything but his full, pink lips that are coated in my tinted gloss. Lipstick stains the right side of his neck and the inside of his palm. A memory of him cupping my mouth as he commanded me to be quiet bursts to mind.

My legs tremble and I quickly turn away.

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