Page 111 of A River of Crows

Dylan rubbed at his chin. “Only if you promise to show me one of your drawings sometime.”

“Oh, so this is a ‘show me yours, I’ll show you mine’ type of negotiation?”

Dylan’s cheeks reddened. He opened his mouth, then closed it as though struggling for words. He finally stood and pulled out his keys. “I’ll just go grab that guitar.”

Sloan checked her phone for the first time since Dylan arrived. She noticed the voicemail icon, but when she checked the call log, there were no missed calls. That voicemail notification always seemed to put up a fight to disappear. When Dylan returned, a maple-colored acoustic Gibson guitar was strapped over his shoulder. He held a gray pick and strummed a few chords, warming up. Sloan marveled at the change in the Dylan that walked out the door and the one who came back in. His posture was stronger, and he held his head higher. For the first time Sloan had ever seen, Dylan Lawrence looked confident. It was extremely sexy.

He sat down next to her and, with no introduction, strummed the opening to “Making Memories of Us.”

Sloan watched in awe as the guitar became an extension of Dylan. He made it look so effortless. His voice was smooth and sweet, perfect for the romance of a song about pledging the best part of yourself to someone. Sloan inhaled deeply, anchoring herself in the moment and taking in the scent of Dylan’s cologne. She knew that no matter what became of her and Dylan, the smell of Calvin Klein’s Eternity for Men would forever bring her back to this perfect moment.

Goosebumps covered her arms by the time Dylan strummed the last note. She stood and turned toward him to clap.

“Stop.” Dylan squeezed his eyes shut and motioned for her to sit.

“That was beautiful. Please play another one.”

Dylan stretched his arms out in front of him, interlocking his fingers. “Any requests?”

Before she could respond, a tiny electronic melody filled the room. “Sorry. I thought I had it silenced.” She pulled out her cellphone. “It’s Felicity.”

“Answer it,” Dylan said.

“No way.” She pressed ignore. “I have no idea why she’d be calling, and I’m busy.” She set the phone down and turned toward Dylan. “Since you played Keith Urban, it’s only fair you play some Whitley.”

Dylan tuned a couple of strings. “I expected this and have been practicing.” Sloan sank back on the couch cushion and listened as Dylan began playing, “When You Say Nothing at All.”

He was still on the first verse when Sloan’s phone sounded again, this time with a text notification. She didn’t want to be rude to Dylan, so she ignored it. But when the second beep came, alarm bells sounded in Sloan’s head louder than Dylan’s gorgeous vocals. She pulled out her phone and turned away from Dylan to check it. Both texts were from Felicity.

Sloan, your mom is here at my parents’ house. Just sitting in her car across the street. Dad is on his way home, but he was in Longview with Brad, so it will be a bit.

“What!” Sloan jumped to her feet, trying to read the second text through the spots in her vision.

Should Kyle go talk to her? Or should we wait for Dad? We aren’t sure what to do.

Dylan stopped strumming. “What’s wrong?”

Sloan ran to the window. “Mom’s car is gone! Was it here when you pulled up?”

Dylan set his guitar on the couch and walked up behind her. “Yeah. It was parked on the street.”

Sloan shook her head. “I don’t understand. How did she get out of the hospital? How!”

“Are you sure no one stole the car?”

“Mom’s in Tyler.” Sloan moved around the room till she located her shoes. “At Anna’s.” She struggled with her flip-flops, accidentally putting the left one on her right foot. Suddenly, Sloan was at Blockbuster Video in 1995, getting the phone call from Walt. She was waiting for Noah to drive her home and leaving her vomit all over the break room table for Danny to clean up.

“Are they sure it’s her? How did she get her keys?”

Sloan ran down the hall and into her mother’s room, Dylan close behind. Her mom’s purse was missing from the table beside her bed where Sloan had put it. And the window was wide open.

“I’m sorry,” Dylan said. “I thought I heard something earlier, but you were blow-drying your hair, so I assumed I was hearing things. I should have checked.”

The gun. Sloan had a moment of confusion, thinking that her mother still had the gun. But of course, she didn’t. She’d been in the hospital. Sloan had unloaded the gun and put it back in the attic. Noah was bringing her a lockbox tomorrow. Sloan hated guns, but it was one of their few possessions that belonged to her Grandpa Radel.

Dylan looked around the room. “The noise didn’t sound like it came from her bedroom. It was above me.”

Sloan shut the window. “Well, she didn’t get into the attic. She would have had to walk right by you.”

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