“She was decent to me, you know. Even at the end, she treated me almost like her son,” he continues. “Those assholes . . . I just need them to pay me what I’m owed, and I’ll pretend they don’t exist.”
I swallow the knot in my throat. His mom died when he was too young. I remember how he used to wish for a grandmother like mine—someone who would love and take care of him. Instead of living with his father and his family where he was always reminded that he was a bastard. My grandmother did as much as she could.
“Hopper isn’t as bad as you think,” I say.
He scoffs. “Nys, tell me you’re not falling for that asshole.”
My stomach clenches. “That’s not?—”
“It’s like you forgot everything. You saw them. Stay away from him. As a matter of fact, leave. Right now. Do I need to hop on a plane and drag you out of there?”
If I could I would, and maybe I should take his offer. However . . . I know better. “Technically, I can’t leave.”
Silence. Then, a low, dangerous growl. “What the hell did you do now?”
I tell him. Everything. From the night I arrived until now.
Atlas already knows why I left town, so it doesn’t shock him to hear that the same people tried to scare me away again. He understands why I came back.
His breathing changes. “My brother is using you as bait?”
“No, it’s?—”
“He is,” he cuts me off, voice dark and vibrating with rage. “This isn’t just some small-town crime drama, Nys. This is real. This is fucking dangerous.”
I exhale slowly. “It’s not?—”
“Bullshit.” His voice sharpens. “This isn’t right. I’ll— I’ll figure something out.”
“You don’t have to.”
“The fuck I don’t, Nys. You’re dealing with the Timberassholes. We’re the worst parts of humanity—them more than me.”
The line goes quiet, and I know he’s already thinking up a plan.
I just don’t know if it’ll make things better . . . or worse.
Stick to the plan, I tell myself, don’t listen to Atlas, but it’s hard. He knows them. What if Malerick is really just using me? Using all of us? I know Ledger and Galeana are coming back soon. He doesn’t care if she’s in danger too.
Mal swears everything will be fine. Sure, the sheriff’s department, the FBI, or any of the other agencies that have been crawling all over Birchwood Springs for the past few weeks, say the danger has passed.
The case has been closed. The bodies identified. The investigation moved to another state. Which means I don’t have to worry anymore—but I do.
Is Atlas right?
“Listen, I don’t think he would put me or your siblings in danger,” I state.
“Siblings? Who else is there?” he asks.
“Ledger. He arrived with his wife a few days ago,” I state, though I haven’t seen them. I’ve yet to meet his wife, though everyone who’s been at the bookstore says she’s really nice.
“He’s fucking married?” He scoffs. “I just needed him to sell the company, not to . . . is he moving there? Fuck. I swear I’m going to kill them.”
“Murder is punishable by law,” I remind him, half-joking.
“Listen, I’ll be there soon, and you stay away from them, you hear me?” he states. “If they hurt you, I will hurt them back—and they will. They’re not nice, Nys.”
But he’s wrong. I understand that they hurt him, but they’re not the same people, are they?
