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I reach for Dax and Chase, holding onto them as I draw upon every last bit of courage I’ve been holding in reserve.
I’m gonna need it.
Because I love these boys. And we’re about to step into the lion’s den.
21
The GPS calls out directions with the same neutral tone as always, the woman’s voice even and pleasant, as if she has no idea she’s leading us to our possible doom.
It takes us almost twenty-five minutes to get there, and as Linc drives, I pull out my phone and scroll through my text messages until I find Hunter’s name. I feel bad. The last text I sent her was five days ago, way longer than we usually go without talking in some capacity.
I feel like shit. When I left Bayard, we both worried that our friendship wouldn’t survive the test of distance, that our new lives and new friends would make us gradually grow apart. And we both swore we’d do whatever we could not to let that happen.
At first, we kept up that promise. We might not have seen each other every day, but I still felt connected to her, in tune with what was going on in her life. Close.
But ever since Iris’s death—ever since Mom’s arrest—I’ve been spiraling further and further away from my best friend back home. The same lies and secrets that kept a wall up between me and Mom put one up between me and Hunter too, although at least Hunter knows a bit about the four guys I’m with.
I don’t know quite why it feels so important right now, but I want to talk to her. I want to make sure she knows I love her, and that I miss her so much it hurts.
ME: Hey, dummy. I know you’re probably in class right now, but I just wanted to say sorry I’ve been so MIA. There’s been some… crazy shit going on, and it’s sort of taken over my life.
We’re three hours ahead of Arizona, and it’s almost two p.m. here, so I’m sure she is in class. But a text from her pops up less than a minute later anyway.
HUNTER: Girl, it’s okay. I’m sure your mom’s trial is all you can think about. Just so long as you know I’m thinking about you. Can I do anything? You need anything?
A lump forms in my throat, and Dax squeezes my knee. I don’t think he’s reading her text, but we’re sitting so close that he can probably feel my reaction to it.
ME: No, I’m okay. It’s not just Mom’s trial though. I’ll explain everything when I can. But I just wanted to tell you I love you.
HUNTER: What? What’s going on? Who do I need to hurt?
I bite back a half-smile at my protective, bloodthirsty friend. I wish I could tell her everything, but this response is exactly why I can’t. If I’d told her from the start about the man in the black mask, or about how we discovered it was Hollowell, she probably would’ve hopped a plane out here and tried to take him on herself.
It’s hard to sit by and do nothing when people you love are in danger. I’ve learned that the hard way.
ME: No one. Thanks though. But can you do me a favor? If you don’t hear from me in a few hours, can you call the Fox Hill Police Department and have them swing by this address? But *only* if you don’t hear from me.
I lean forward a little to get River’s attention, and he looks up from the phone where the route is mapped out.
“What’s the address?” I ask.
He recites it back to me, and I type it into the phone, reiterating once again that Hunter should only call the police if she doesn’t hear back from me in a while. Dirty cops in this town or not, it feels monumentally stupid to walk into a potentially dangerous situation without at least a little backup.
HUNTER: What the hell is going on, Low? You’re scaring the fuck out of me.
ME: I’m sorry. I don’t want to. I love you, dummy.
There’s a long pause, and I can tell she’s probably debating whether to threaten or cajole me to try to get more answers. But she knows me well enough to know it won’t work.
HUNTER: I love you too. Even though I hate you a little bit right now.
A small laugh h
uffs out of me, and I shake my head as I type one last message.
ME: No you don’t. You just love me.
HUNTER: Damn you.
