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“What do you mean?”
“Well, a lot’s happened.” I want to tell him exactly what’s happened, but is that juvenile?
“Any leads on Sloane?”
“No. But they’ve sent people to search for her. It’s probably what I should’ve done.”
“You can’t think like that. But they said they’ve got you somewhere safe.”
“Yeah. Just me and Knox.” I let his name hang there in the air between us.
“Is the stud muffin making moves on my girl?” I can hear his smile if that’s even possible.
“I’d say he made a big one.”
“Whoa. My head may explode. I have so many questions. I don’t know how to prioritize.”
“It’s okay.”
“Can you video? I need to see your face.”
“I don’t know if I can. I’m on this weird phone. It can probably video, but?—”
“You don’t know how to. Got it. So, Knox. Like, you’re getting it on? What are we talking about here? Making out? Holding hands? With you, a guy can never tell.”
“All the above?”
“All…what?”
“Yep… finally.” My tone hits the highest pitch, and yes—it’s juvenile.
“No. Way.”
“Yes. Way.” My cheek muscles burn from the wide, uncontrollable grin.
“How did that even work? Was he like…yes, someone is shooting at us. And we’re going to send big, burly, scary men to check on your friend in Asheville. And I’m so turned on by all of this I’m going to jump your bones.”
“Oh.” All humor evaporates. “Were they mean to you?”
“They were no joke. Like, let’s just say, if they asked questions, I would answer out of fear they’d begin yanking out teeth or fingernails. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”
“It’s not me. I swear. I haven’t done anything. It’s Sloane.”
“Sloane’s such a rule follower. It’s hard to imagine her getting caught up in… What is this? What exactly is going on?”
“I have no idea. But I know Sloane’s in trouble. She still hasn’t returned any of my messages.”
“You aren’t returning messages. No one can reach you. Do you know how many people have contacted me to make sure you’re okay because you haven’t returned their messages? And we’re supposed to be back in school in one week. Seven days, Sage.”
“I know. I know.” We have two weeks to prep our classrooms before the first day back. Lots of meetings. “Did the class lists come out?”
“Sage. Seriously? Okay. Let’s try this again. Let me tell you what happened here.” I nod, not that he can see me. “Two men came to talk to me. I thought it might be my lucky day, because one of them was very Ian Somerhalder. But he opened his mouth and…yeah, no. Straight and narrow. And his buddy Mr. Clean Cut was all, ‘We’re going to hold you upside down by your ankles and shake out the change.’”
“No.”
“Not really. But they had a vibe. And they told me that someone could be listening. That I had to watch what I was saying. Where I went. It’s like Mission Impossible came to Asheville with taller Tom Cruises. And I let them in my house because, A, I have nothing to hide, and B, they said it would help you. You know me. I’ll do anything to help you. But do you know what they found?” I open my mouth to answer. “I’ll tell you what they found because you will not guess this one. They found listening devices. In my home. And this is after your house burns down. I asked if your house was not an accident—which Timothy Jones from the fire department believes a gas leak caused it, by the way—but Somerhalder’s doppelganger didn’t seem to think that. They really would not tell me much. Just promised me you were safe and that you would be in touch. They wouldn’t even confirm you were with Knox.”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
