Above & Below: Mountain Misfits MC Prologue by Deja Voss

Author:Deja Voss [Voss, Deja]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Sloan:

Something had changed in Arthur in the time that he was gone on business.

While the reminders of our last encounter lingered on my skin, spending a few days with my best friend was good for my soul. She didn’t judge me, just let me pour my heart out while we binge-watched shitty reality shows and ate pizza and drank wine from the cellar that we couldn’t even pronounce.

She helped me put makeup on my arms so I could wear my scrubs to clinical without drawing too much attention. I’m so close to finishing this round of medical school, so close to beginning my fellowship so I can start training to become a surgeon, I don’t need something like this holding me back. I’ve spent my whole life hearing people talk about me behind my back, calling me white trash, judging me by the fact that my parents couldn’t afford to clothe me or feed me properly. I am happy to be out from under those whispers. This would just start the process all over again.

When he gets home from his trip, he doesn’t even say so much as hello, just heads right upstairs, straight to the shower.

I follow behind him, peeking my head in the bathroom.

“Art, hey, how was your trip? I missed you.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice tired.

“What’s wrong, babe? Do you want me to come in there with you?”

“I’m sorry, Sloan. I’m really tired. Can we talk in the morning?”

It wasn’t like him to act like this. Usually, if he was gone longer than a day, the first thing he’d do is pick me up and carry me to the bedroom.

His suitcase is hanging open on the bed. I go to pull out his dirty laundry so I can throw it in the hamper and two used needles fall out. I don’t want to touch them. I don’t know who he’s shared these with or what they had inside them. As long as I’d known Arthur, he swore up and down that he’d never do drugs.

Buy them wholesale, sure. Sell them, obviously.

The thought of him shooting up makes me want to crawl out of my skin. How long had he been doing it? Was I going to get a disease? I make a mental note to figure out a way to get tested discreetly as soon as possible.

I leave everything there. I know he’ll notice that I saw his stash, but I don’t care. If this is the hill I die on, so be it. I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for him.

As he stands in the bathroom doorway, I feel like I’m going to be sick. Just the way he looks is so off. Wearing nothing but a towel draped around his waist, I notice how slender he’s getting and wonder how long I’ve been able to turn a blind eye to this. This isn’t some one-time experimentation project.

His eyes meet mine, and for a second, I think he looks ashamed, but that quickly gets replaced with anger.

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