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Brent had a seat on a line of interior car seats he had also acquired, and opened another beer before he nodded toward Murdock. “You gonna tell me who got a piece of you?”

Brent Rose and Mary Souter, Murdock’s mom, had been ‘close and personal’ on and off for years. Mary wanted to leave Monty for him, but Brent would be damned if he ended up with another nagging woman he had to put in their place when they went to thinking they had a clue or two.

Brent liked her kid, though. Murdock made him wish he had a boy instead of a girl who was too much like her momma for her own good. And he liked being able to call Mary up any time he felt like it. So, when she called him this morning and told him how tore up Murdock looked, Brent promised he’d take a look into it.

“Too drunk to know,” Murdock said as he brazenly took another beer from the cooler and plopped down next to Brent.

“Bullshit. You’re too pissed
not
to know.”

Murdock shook his head. He was walking a fine line and knew it. Brent was the only adult he felt right letting know about his whole life. With others he played what role he needed to around them. The good student. The good athlete. The good son. The buddy you could count on.

No one really saw his dark side but Brent, and maybe that was because he sensed Brent knew what it felt like to hide who you were for the sake of some fucked status in a nowhere town.

At the same time, telling Brent he was pretty sure a Rawlings fucked his daughter would not be good for Justice. And under all the bullshit Murdock fronted, he did care about Justice. Murdock was pissed and hurt knowing what went down. Brent would be worse because he was still mad that a Rawlings, or a buddy of theirs, took his ex.

Justice would take her punishment
and
her mother’s.

“I don’t know, shit with Nolan, I guess. Can’t remember,” Murdock said with a grin that he could manifest at the drop of a hat, a cool easy one. Then he drank nearly half his beer, hoping Brent’s short attention span would lead him to another topic.

“You blacking out?” Brent asked, finishing his beer and reaching for another.

Murdock shrugged.

“Know your limit, boy.”

Murdock, on the inside, was smirking. There was nothing like a blackout alcoholic telling you to mind your drink—a blackout alcoholic who supplied your habit at that!

Murdock nodded to his beer. “I’m good.”

“You don’t know what went down? Looks like he got a good lick in.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. It was more so with his brother.” He shook his head. “Declan has a thing for Justice. I’m sure I told him to back the fuck off.’

Brent slowly lowered his beer, rage in his gaze. “That so?”

Murdock waved his hand like it was nothing. “Like she’d notice. She’s always reading some shit with those damn headphones in her ears.”

“You need to set that boy right. Declan?” Brent asked, making it to his feet, staggering as he did so, telling Murdock he was wasted. Any sway, any slur, and you could bet Brent Rose was on at least his fourth twelve pack.

“He’s gone. Big bad jarhead now.”

“Fuck that. I bet he ain’t gone yet and you best be putting him right ‘fore he does. Otherwise, he’ll roll up in here whenever they have their fucked ritual at the end of every summer and run off with my little girl and your woman.”

Murdock looked at him like he was crazy, because he was. And because Justice was not his no matter how much Brent, his daddy, or his mother wanted her to be—she was not his. Murdock had tried. Hell yeah, he had. He’d said every right word, molded himself to what he was sure she’d like. Nothing.

Brent reached down and pulled him up. “I’m serious, son. You don’t let him get a lick in then leave fucking town. Hell no!” Brent said, kicking over the radio that had been playing in the background, silencing the shop.

“What do you expect me to do?”

Right then, in the silence between their words, they heard the rumble of a truck idling. Then they both walked to the shop’s doorway.

As if Declan Rawlings had been summoned—there he was, his truck had crept up to the side of Bell Everly’s home in the distance. In the dark they watched him get out, put a box under the porch then leave.

“That son of a bitch,” Brent said, stepping forward. By the time they reached the gravel path the truck was long gone, turning left up the back road.

“Go on now. There’s only one way out of that street and it’s through here. The storm took out the bridge twenty miles up so he has to come back this way.”

Murdock knew bridge or not, more than likely Declan was going to his buddies up the street, saying his goodbyes.

He didn’t want to stand up to more than one of them at once. Brent may have seen the lick on his chin, but he hadn’t seen his chest that was throbbing with pain, near constantly. Any kind of fight was going to test him.

“I said move it. I’ll deal with that box,”
and my daughter
, Brent thought.

Murdock drank down the rest of his beer looking for courage, grabbed a few more, and then charged toward his truck knowing he had little choice in the matter. His pride was on the line.

N
olan Rawlings knew the drive taking Declan to base was going to feel twice as long as it was and suck, but he never realized how bad it would hurt.

It was a given.

It was the first time, ever, beyond a camp or retreat here or there, they’d been apart. They had made it through every milestone in their life side by side and now this—a split road. Declan may push away things he doesn’t understand, but the pair of them both picked fights when they’re broken. It was their way of dealing. It was easier to be mad than hurt.

Nolan knew their ride would be even worse than first predicted because he set it up so Declan could see Justice one more time before he bailed. Nolan was supposed to meet up with her days before but at the last minute, after watching Declan all but break apart when he saw Justice at a distance, he changed his play.

See, the thing was, Nolan had written more than a letter. He had written hundreds and hundreds. He had been writing them since he was twelve.

It was a camp counselor’s fault. He told the kids to never forget their adventurous side. To dream of their next adventure constantly. He told them to make it real, write a letter home explaining all they had done. And then, when they did make it to their adventure—read the old letter, then write another.

Nolan had done so, at every retreat. And sometimes just when he couldn’t sleep at night, he’d write one, dream about where he was going. He’d hidden them all under a loose board in his room.

Over the last six months or so he’d been writing letters to his family, explaining his reasons for secrecy, how much he loved and respected them. How their love and honor had given him the courage to set out and explore, to make a memory or two.

Justice had seen him writing and teased him about having a secret lover. He ended up telling her his plans, and why. And months back he asked her if she would mail his letters for him if he told her when. Of course, she agreed.

That morning, Nolan had taken his time getting his order to go, laughed it up with a few people he knew in the diner, all the while looking out the window at Declan—who took the bait just like Nolan knew he would.

Sure enough, though, Declan left her side too soon and tore across the street to get Nolan.

What Nolan thought would be a ride full of yelling was dead silent. Declan was a million miles away, lost in himself. Every once in a while, they’d pass a familiar exit they had taken in the past for some random reason, and one of them would nod, the other would smile, and that would be it.

At the base their words were tight, not from anger, but emotion. It was real then. They were not there to see their dad, their cousins, their brother Tobias...no, this was Declan’s turn, and he was going it alone.

“Take care, you hear?” Declan said. “Call somebody. They need more than a letter.”

“We’ll be on the road together before you know it,” Nolan said with a tight smile.

One tight hug, hands pounding on the other’s back and that was it, Declan was gone, crossing a threshold that would forever change him.

When Nolan stopped to get gas, he saw the box of letters in the bed of his truck and cursed. He had forgotten about the gesture. Right as he pulled out his phone he saw a text from an unknown number with a ‘?’ and knew it was from Justice by the time stamp alone.

With her next text, she’d told him when and where he could leave them now if he still wanted to. He should have left right then to do so, but he didn’t. He decided to write another letter to Declan, words he could not say that morning.

Then he adjusted his bags so when he finally made it to Mt. Mitchell he’d be ready to go. The task was harder than it sounded. He had compressed and hidden things as well as he could. He’d basically had to rearrange all the toolboxes on Declan’s truck then set his bags just right.

It didn’t take long for him to be recognized near the base. He’d had way too many family and friends crossing through those doors over time.

He ended up meeting a cousin of his for lunch, and spent a few hours with him. Then he called the buddy he was supposed to meet that night and told him he was at least three to four hours behind him, for him to go on and get camp ready.

I knew you’d chicken out
, was the instant response he got.

Nolan shook off the insult, just like he shook off the ones his cousin dished out earlier in the day about how he could not believe he was striking out without one look back. “You’ll never make it without your sidekick, and he’ll never make it without you.”

Nolan had thought to punch his cousin because he was worried enough about Declan as it was. For the first time—ever—that morning Declan had seemed like he didn’t want it as much. Instead, Nolan winked and said, “We’re never far. If you fuck with one us, you can be damn sure you’re gonna face us all.” A nod was the only comeback because truer words had never been spoken.

Nolan pulled a U-turn to take the letters back to Justice. He needed her to mail the first one in two days—right about the time Declan’s first letters would roll in. That way his family would know for sure what he was up to and by the time they wrote to or spoke to Declan all would be good.

Justice had told him if there were cars at her place, to leave the box in the ditch, and she’d find it when she got off work. If there weren’t, he could put them under the porch.

Easy enough.

He knew she’d been expecting him hours before, when everyone was at work, but because of how sidetracked he had gotten all day, it was well after dark before he made it all the way out to her place. He had to take every back road there was, ones his massive family or any of their friends would be less likely to see him on.

Nolan figured waiting until after dark wasn’t all that bad of an idea, he knew it would be easier to see if anyone was at her house that way. The lights would shine through the Georgia pines.

When it started to mist on him, his one and only hope was that no one would be home. When he saw no lights at the house, he crept up the way and ditched the box under the porch and left with only one backward glance. It was odd. He’d never been there before, but he sensed his brother there, could see him standing on the porch, watching him go.

Nolan clenched his eyes closed and pushed down the emotions he didn’t want to feel and pretended for a moment he was just going on a retreat—he’d be fighting with Declan in no time.

With a heavy sigh, knowing his last task in the town of Bradyville was done, he put his brother’s truck in gear and decided to take the shortcut out of town, before he did, in fact, lose his nerve.

***

W
hen Justice and Bell pulled in their long drive they both glanced in the distance, to the shop at the far edge of the property that basically looked like a pile of wood that was once a structure. Seeing a dim light on was not comforting at all. It meant he was there.

“I’m just going to take you with me,” Bell said.

It was one of Bell’s friends’ birthdays and she was supposed to meet up with them for dinner.

“I’m sure he’ll leave again. Might even be passed out in there,” Justice said, meaning every word.

Bell cast a weary glance at the shop once more. She could see the trailer hooked up, so she knew Justice had a point. Still, something felt off to her.

“I’ll cancel,” she said, reaching for her phone.

Justice grasped her hand. She had heard Declan in her head all day, him telling her to stand up, to deploy all power she needed. It had made her see life in a new light. It might suck for a while, but she knew one thing: she was sick of her and her grandmother arranging their life around the threat of her father and his moods.

“I’m going to take a bath. He’ll pass out. Go have fun.”

After a long hesitation, Bell nodded. “You call me if anything comes up. If you hear the door so much as creak open.”

Justice gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek, then slid out of the front seat and made her way to the porch, waving behind her.

She hesitated at the door waiting for her to back out, then she crept down the stairs looking for the box Nolan was suppose to leave. If it wasn’t there, she was going to have to hike it to the end of the drive.

“Looking for something?” she heard a hard, harsh voice say.

She jumped, not understanding how her father had hidden himself so well in the dark shadows.

“Hiding shit from me!” he said louder.

Justice didn’t say a word. She couldn’t see him so she wasn’t sure how mad or drunk he really was. Sometimes, very rarely, he was a sad drunk. Those were the times when he’d cry. When he’d say he loved her mother, he loved her, and he didn’t understand how it went wrong. Why he couldn’t control himself. When he said how sorry he was...Justice felt bad for him.

Her father, everybody’s friend, yet he hated himself and his life.

“Shop. Now,” Brent said. He didn’t know where Bell went or when she was coming back, but he knew he was not going to let that woman stick her nose in his business.