“Soon enough.” Chase nodded toward the phone. “Mom’s right. Call the vet first.”
Sloane didn’t like Chase telling her what to do in that cold voice, but she knew good advice when she heard it and stepped over to the table and picked up the phone. Dialing the number Raina gave her, she listened and hung up, resigned. “You’re right. I got the answering machine.”
“See?” Raina smiled, obviously happy to be correct. “Now you can stay here with us.”
She patted the side of the bed with an unspoken request that Sloane join her.
She smiled at the older woman. “Much as I’d like to, I have an errand I have to run.”
Besides, Chase obviously didn’t need or want her here.
“Where to?” Raina asked.
“None of your business,” Chase said.
Sloane covered a shocked gasp with a cough, walking over to his mother, edging between them and patting Raina’s hand. “I appreciate your asking. I’m going to visit my mother’s old house,” she informed Raina with a gracious smile. “I have the address you gave me.”
“Oh dear. You really shouldn’t go alone.”
“Why not?” both Chase and Sloane asked at the same time.
Sloane only knew she wanted to get out of the hospital and away from her escalating feelings. Chase just obviously wanted her gone.
She reminded him of his failings, and apparently, Chase Chandler held himself up to higher than human standards. He didn’t permit himself to have wants or desires that came before his family. She inhaled and squared her shoulders. Well, then, too bad for him.
She wanted someone human in her life. Besides, she had her hands full finding her father.
She didn’t need to add Chase’s hang-ups to her own. Much as she wanted to.
Raina clucked her tongue, as if chastising them both. “Because it’s an emotional situation and Sloane shouldn’t face the past alone.”
“It’s my mother’s past. Only indirectly mine.” Sloane shrugged, forcing herself to make light of the situation, at least until she left the room. “I’ll be fine.”
Raina expelled an exasperated breath. “But I don’t need Chase here.”
He shot her a glance, then leaned down on the portable tray that substituted as a nightstand and leaned closer. “All the more reason for me to stay.”
“Chase has a point,” Sloane said, through clenched teeth. She didn’t want anything he wasn’t willing to give. “He won’t be satisfied until he hears you’re going to be okay, and I don’t blame him. I’m just going to deal with some family skeletons, try to get the dog, and then go back to Chase’s. I’m hoping maybe we’ll get a call from Earl or get a lead on Samson so I can settle things here and head back to D.C.” She shifted her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “I want to get out of everyone’s hair.”
“Nonsense.” Raina waved a hand dismissively. “You’re not in anyone’s way. But if you do get any leads, make sure you call Chase here or at my place,” she said in her best dictatorial voice.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with my mother. If something comes up, you call. Whoever’s after Samson is dangerous.” Concern flickered in Chase’s darkened gaze, a hint of longing he couldn’t hide.
But longing wasn’t enough, not without his willingness to act. “Don’t worry,” Sloane said with a flippant shake of her head. “I can handle my life. I appreciate all your family has done for me so far, but you have more important concerns now.”
Gathering her reserve strength, she walked away as if the man in the room meant nothing to her. She had no choice but to accept that unless he came to terms with his conflict, she was on her own. A place she’d been for a while now. But it was a place that was so much more lonely now that she’d known Chase.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sloane was feeling brave until the moment she pulled up to her mother’s old house. As she stepped out of the car, her knees went weak and she began to tremble. She’d have given anything to have Chase by her side, but he was needed elsewhere and she didn’t begrudge him time with his family. Wasn’t she here to learn more about hers? Though what she thought she’d find, she wasn’t certain.
A cold fall breeze circulated in the air, keeping her blood pumping and her adrenaline flowing. She pulled her denim jacket close around her and focused on the house as she approached. The old Colonial looked well maintained. With the kids playing out back and the American flag hanging on the porch, Sloane figured the house was also well loved.
Not wanting to scare the kids by showing up in the backyard, she knocked on the door, intending to ask permission.
A woman opened the door. “Can I help you?” She wiped her hands on her jeans and leaned against the door frame.
Faced with the owner, a woman with bobbed hair, manicured nails, and a friendly smile, Sloane wasn’t sure where to begin. “This may sound silly, but my mother grew up here and . . . Well, I was wondering if I could look around?”
The woman smiled. “I don’t see why not.” She opened the door wider. “Come on in.”
Stepping back, she let Sloane inside. “I’m Grace McKeever.”
“Sloane Carlisle,” she said, opting for honesty. She looked around at the floral wallpaper and dark wood floors and furniture. She had a hunch the house had been redecorated recently and had changed much since her mother resided there. “How long have you lived here?” she asked the woman.
“About eight years. From what I understand, this house has changed hands many times.”
She gestured around the large entryway and toward the circular staircase in front of them.
“I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but feel free to wander.”
Small-town hospitality, Sloane thought, warmth filling her. But she shook her head.
“Thanks anyway.” Sloane wouldn’t know which room belonged to her mother. “I really just want to see the tree house out back. I’d love to see that, if you don’t mind.”
Grace laughed and tucked her hair behind one ear. “Of course not. My kids spend a lot of time there. Come, I’ll show you.” She led Sloane through the house, to the kitchen, and out a sliding-glass door leading to a patio area in the back.
The yard spread expansively before her and she could imagine her mother playing as a child. Or maybe not, considering the repressed upbringing and strict rules employed by her grandfather. But there was no denying the fact that there were two teenage girls now—giggling, laughing, and probably talking about boys.