Page 69 of Nowhere Good

A whole lot of woe-is-me, as far as Claire was concerned. This had been going on for a while now. “But you still did it.”

“I know. I—I didn’t wanna let your dad down. I’ve been here since I was fifteen, Claire. My dad used to beat on me, say I was a pussy, that I’d never amount to a damn thing. But your dad said I’d be the man of the house when he wasn’t around.”

“You say that like I wasn’t there for all of it. I remember you turning into my dad’s little lapdog.”

“I didn’t know he’d ever ask me to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? That’s what you call it?” She stood and threw her arms up, while Marty stayed down, simply gawking at her. “How many days was I down there, Marty?”

“Three,” he croaked.

“That’s right. Three.” Claire plopped back down in the seat. She wanted to hate Marty. She had every right to, but the truth was, she’d always blamed her dad, because he was the puppeteer. She understood how it felt to fear her father.

“I—I am sorry,” Marty finally said. “I didn’t wanna get kicked off the farm. I didn’t wanna end up like some of the others.”

“What do you mean ‘end up like them’? Did something bad happen?”

“No, I just mean like, fired.”

“Marty. Tell me the truth.”

“That is the truth. Trevor, Dylan with a Y, Robbie—those guys were all guys like me, guys your dad saw something in, but they never lasted, and I—I wanted to be different. I needed to be different from them, ’cause otherwise my dad would be right, and I’d be nothing.”

“You don’t know who you could’ve been. You chose to be in this family. I didn’t.” She sank in the seat. “I’d never choose this.”

The sound of doors slamming outside resounded through the house. Claire’s heart sank as she checked the time—they’d lost track, and it was after nine p.m. The sun had gone down, but the fair would go till at least ten. There was no way her dad could pack everything up so early and be back already.

Yet he—and Clementine, holding Sully—stormed into the house. Claire stood on shaky legs, and so did Marty.

“Well, another girl’s dead,” her dad said, not yet noticing her presence. Claire’s blood froze.

“Another one?” Marty asked.

Both her dad and Clementine’s eyes fell on Claire, confused.

Clementine fired off a scowl. “Really, Claire? There I was, sitting like a jackass at your booth, and you’re here?”

“I—I just saw her biking and picked her up,” Marty said. “I just—didn’t want her going around on her own, and I still needed to grab the napkins.”

Claire shot Marty a grateful look. She could never truly trust him, but this was a start.

“The fair’s done for anyway,” her dad said. “Cops found a dead body somewhere and cleared us all out.”

“Do we know who it was?” Claire asked. It unsettled her nerves, trying to fit in with the family when she’d only come here looking for a way out of it.

“Not yet,” Clemetine said. “Gave us a scare, though. Almost thought it was you, but I ran into Officer Yess as the cops were clearin’ out the fair, and he assured me it wasn’t. But you weren’t answerin’ your phone.”

Claire slapped at her pocket, where her phone was tucked into her shorts. She must not have felt it vibrate, too hooked by the adrenaline of being caught off guard by Marty—and his half-baked apology.

“We loaded the rest of your candles into Daddy’s truck, by the way,” Clementine grumbled, pushing past her to Marty, hauling Sullivan into his arms. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks…” Claire trailed off. Her dad’s eyes burned into her.

A sudden knock rapped at the front door. Claire’s dad opened it, revealing Seth standing there under the porchlight, his face drawn with exhaustion. He locked onto Claire past her dad for a moment, and her breath caught. He looked at her a certain way—shock, or maybe relief—before he turned away first.

“Evening, sorry to bother you all.”

“A girl died, right?” Clementine blurted. “Who was she?”