Page 94 of Within These County Lines

I take a deep breath and do a quick balance check in my head. How much money do I have left? I open my banking app.

$6.51.

Not even enough for a burger at the Bean. Certainly not enough money to drive to Tennessee. And definitely not enough to tour half the country with Whitley.

My hands go slack in my lap. The number stares back at me. My ticket out of Penango is paid for. I just don’t know if I’ll ever get to use it.

At work, I can’t wait to tell Whitley what’s gone down in the last twenty-four hours. Nothing about what Dara shared was normal, like she swore it would be. The tree is what cursed me, not Xander. She was wrong about him.

But Whitley never shows up at the health department. She doesn’t answer my calls either. Maybe she caught the coyote last night and is out celebrating. If that’s the case, I need in on the party, anything to distract myself from the fact that Xander, Dara, and I are still invisible to parts of the world.

I reach Whitley’s house at twilight. My tires bob over the curb at the uneven driveway. The heat wave that’s suffocated Penango since the Fourth of July finally retreats south, leaving behind cool air and flickering lightning bugs.

I knock on the front door.

No answer.

I knock again. Still nothing.

After a few more moments of silence, I let myself inside.

Bennie lies on the living room sofa with white bandages wrapped tightly around his hind legs. His ears perk up when he sees me, and he lets out a few soft whimpers.

“Hey, Bennie,” I say, patting his head. His warm tongue licks my palm. “Where is Whitley?” The ceiling fan spins aggressively overhead. An empty plate with specks of breadcrumbs rests on the coffee table. The kitchen counters are stacked with dirty dishes.

It’s no sign of a celebration.

“Whitley?” I yell. “It’s me. Stetson.”

A mattress creaks down the hall, followed by a faintwhisper. I follow the sound.

Whitley sits on her bed with her ankle propped up on a stack of pillows. The skin around her foot is purple, swollen, and twice its normal size. My stomach drops.

“You let yourself in?” she asks. Her voice is flat.

“What happened?”

She doesn’t answer right away.

“I fell out of a tree while I was coyote hunting last night,” she says, wincing as she rolls on her side to face the wall.

“Oh my god. Are you okay? Why didn’t you say anything?” I step closer.

“You were busy.” She sniffs.

My head jerks back. “So? When has that mattered before? I would’ve come and helped.” I scan her body, checking for more bruises, but there’s nothing else visible.

“When have you ever lied to me before? Or broken a promise?” She talks to the wall.

Her words hit hard like they’ve inflicted their own injury on me.

I blink rapidly. My cheeks flush. “Huh? Whitley, what’s going on?”

She’s quiet for a moment, then she spins around. I brace myself because the look she gives me is one I’ve never seen before. At least, never seen her give to me.

“I can tell you about yesterday and—” I start.

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t care about yesterday.” She swings her legs off the bed and forces herself up.