Page 20 of Someone To Claim
I nod. It feels strange, and maybe a little fucked up, to be discussing Sloane’s cancer with her friends considering she and I didn’t actually talk about it. But I want them to know I understand what she’s been through. Maybe better than most people, thanks to my mom.
“The couple who ran the cancer caregiver camp told me.” My voice sounds steadier than my pulse, which is a blessing right now. “About her going through treatment for ALL and how that motivated her brother to become involved with their company.”
Avah makes a sound in the back of her throat that’s a mix of the growl she gave me at the bakery and a sigh, if that’s a thing. At least it’s not a full-on growl. “And you still came to find her?”
It’s posed as a question but feels like a test. “I did.”
“Even though all you had with her was a one-night stand.”
“Two nights.” The correction is automatic. I’ve been holding onto those two nights for over a year. I’m not letting anyone short-change them.
“Were all those emotions and the yearning in your song…” Molly’s voice goes soft. “Did you mean them?”
“More specifically,” Avah adds, arms still crossed, “did you mean them in a non-stalkerish way?”
I laugh and look up at the hotel room’s faded ceiling as I drag a hand over my jaw, as if the stubble under my palm can make this whole thing make sense. How do I tell the truth in a way that won’t sound insane?
It’s difficult to explain when I wrote the most confessional lyrics of my career for a woman I barely knew.
I don’t need to know the reason
I don’t need to know the why
I just need the girl who laughed
Like she was learning how for the first time
“I wrote that song in the bar where Sloane and I met. I can promise you I’m not a stalker, but I also went back there every night for a month hoping she’d walk in again.” I draw in a deep breath. “Don’t ask me to explain why. I can’t. I kept waiting for the feeling to fade into something rational, but it never did. And that should scare the hell out of me, but here I am.”
I expect one or both of them to tell me I’m full of shit. But Avah reaches into the leather purse slung across her chest and pulls out a folded piece of paper, then holds it out to me.
“We’re not going to discuss why I’m giving this to you, but it tells you where Sloane’s going. She’s heading out from a town called Red Lodge tomorrow morning, hiking to a cabin in the Montana wilderness she’ll reach after a four-night backpacking trip. She’s alone, and we have no way to reach her unless she powers on the sat phone she has with her.”
“There’s zero cell service?” My chest feels like a noose is tightening around it.
“She turned off her phone and plans to leave it at the motel where she’s staying tonight,” Molly says, sharing a worried glance with Avah.
I don’t know whether the concern is about Sloane being alone or if she can handle the nights on the trail, but I know these women love her. And they’re giving me the chance I need to find her for real.
My fingers are embarrassingly shaky when I take the paper from Avah.
“Is that safe? Can she?—”
Avah holds up a hand, and I shut my mouth. “She’s going to be fine, but we also don’t think she should do this alone.”
Molly bites down on her bottom lip. “It probably goes without saying that she’s going to be pissed as hell if you find her.”
“WhenI find her.” There’s zero doubt in my mind, and not because I wrote a damn song about it.
Another look passes between the two of them, and I’d call it relief if I had the mental bandwidth to form a coherent thought right now.
“She can handle bears,” Molly says, like she can will that to be true. Her gaze remains fixed on the paper in my hands. “But the woman she’s looking for…we don’t think she’s the person Sloane believes her to be.”
Avah lifts a brow and runs her eyes over me like she’s at the used car lot. “I hope you’re in better shape than a stereotypical country musician.”
I snort. “Is there a stereotype for that?”
“In my mind, there is.”
