Page 27 of Reckless
I turn and peek at her. “Just kinda wiped right now. I think I’ll bail. Crawl into bed.”
Her eyes hold so much concern. Sloane is one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met. She’s sweet, but not sickeningly so. Now and then she says something inappropriate and then giggles to herself about it.
I like that about her. She’s relatable.
“You sure?”
Divided by seven equals three.
Cycle starts.
I offer her my most convincing smile, but I’m a terrible actress. I’m quite certain the look I give her is just a scowl with my lips in a slightly upturned shape.
She snorts and pushes to stand. “You look like a serial killer when you do that.” She freezes before spinning back to me with a laugh. “Imagine that! I help this nice doctor girl who I think is a new friend move into the house next to mine. But it turns out she’s a serial killer and is just playing the long game with planning my murder.” She giggles. “Nowthatwould be a good story.”
I rub at my temples. “Sounds like a Catherine Cowles book.”
“What?” Her head quirks.
“Nothing. I’m going to go read in bed.”
Three weeks ago was the Saturday before Christmas.
“Okay. Text me when you’re up and ready to finish this place off in the morning.” Sloane leans down and gives me a breezy kiss on the cheek. “And please don’t murder me tonight.”
I would laugh, but if I open my mouth, I will barf on the microfiber couch. The sales guy told me it wipes up easy. I absently wonderhoweasily.
The Saturday before Christmas was dinner at Wishing Well Ranch.
Sloane is laughing as she slides on her UGGs and leaves.
She’s happy and carefree, cracking serial killer jokes.
And I’m doing math in my head. Math I’m painfully familiar with because I’ve spent the last two years desperately trying to get pregnant. Tears, positive ovulation strips, negative pregnancy tests, fertility appointments.
Of all the times I’ve obsessively run these numbers in my head, my math was right once. That test was positiveonce.
It was the highest high. But it ended in loss, and pain, and the lowest low.
Now, my math is right again.
Wishing Well Ranch is where I met Theo Silva.
* * *
Winter: Do you have access to the gym? You dance there after hours sometimes, right?
Sloane: Yeah. Sometimes when I can’t sleep. I use the Zumba studio.
Winter: Can I get you to let me in?
Sloane: But it’s 10 p.m.
Winter: Yeah, I know. I just got off work.
Sloane: Am I allowed to ask why you need to go into your sister’s business after hours?
Winter: You can ask, but I won’t tell you.
