With Cora’s mom safely in the motel only a few doors down from my room, I can tell she’s feeling a little better.

Although that reaction when she came to my room and found me missing… that was tough to see. I haven’t said anything about it, because I think she’s embarrassed, but I understand. This is a high-stress situation. She’s afraid the Niners are going to come after us and try to physically harm me.

I can’t blame her. She’s probably right. Frankly, I’m surprised that I haven’t seen more reprisals from them so far. I’m honestly starting to think that they’re not as scary as everyone seems to think they are. Maybe they’ve gotten soft ever since they took over this town. Nobody’s around to push back at them. It’s not really surprising, since they’re operating out here in the middle of nowhere in a small town. In the city, they’d have to stay violent, but maybe out here they can get away with being a little soft.

Still, it’s good to have Cora’s mom here. Cora herself takes the empty room next to mine, and now it feels like we’re one big happy family, except her mother refuses to spend any time with me, and basically just sits in her room smoking cigarettes and drinking.

“How’s she holding up?” I ask Cora the next day. She shrugs a little bit.

“Okay, I think.” We’re sitting in the Great American and I have my laptop on the table top. Fortunately they have free WiFi here, which is a real lifesaver. The WiFi at the motel is horrifyingly slow, so it’s basically not useable, and I’m sick of using all my data.

“At least she’s safe, right?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “I guess.” She bites her lip. “She said something weird yesterday.”

“Weird?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

“Not weird. Just… she admitted to having a drinking problem.”

“Huh. That’s good, right?”

“Yeah, it’s just, she’s never done that before. But she’s still drinking.”

“Did you think she would change overnight?” I ask softly.

She sighs. “I know you’re right. Still, I want to help her.”

“You can. Just give it time, she’ll come around. When all this is over, she’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” She looks back down at her coffee, and I can tell she wants to say something else, but she swallows it and goes back to eating.

I decide not to press her. Addiction and her family are two difficult and painful topics for her. Atticus was killed because of his addiction, and now she’s worried her mom is going to go down a similar path, although much more slowly. I can see it in her expression, but she’s burying it, keeping it all inside.

Just like her mother, Cora needs time. I won’t push. She’ll come to me for help if she needs it.

I glance back to my computer and notice that I have a new friend request. Curious, I click it, and the face of a guy I remember from school looks back at me.

I grin a little bit. Reggie was a friend back in the day, although we lost touch when I went to school. He was a dorky guy, hung around Mitch a lot too back then. I have no clue what happened to him, so I accept his request.

Just a few minutes later, a message from him pops up. “Hey, man!”

“Hey, Reggie,” I type back. “What’s up? Long time no see.”

“You got that right. I heard you were back in town, man.”

“Yeah, sure am.” I sip my coffee, assuming that Mitch told him. “How are things with you?”

“Things are good. Why don’t we hang out and catch up?”

I hesitate. I’ve been avoiding meetings like this. Not that I have anything against my old friends, it’s just that I haven’t wanted to get too tangled up in the damn local politics. Still, I’m here for at least another week, so I might as well give it a try.

And I liked Reggie. He was quiet, a little pudgy, wore glasses. The kind of kid that people would have picked on, but fortunately he was also really kind and pretty funny, so most people liked him. Part of me is a little surprised that he’s still living in Mason. He’s one of the guys I would have guessed got out, but apparently not.

“Yeah, okay,” I type back to him. “Where and when? I’m not in town for too long.”

“How about today then? I got nothing going on.”

I glance up at Cora. She’s busy staring off into space, idly eating her breakfast.

“Okay, I can do that,” I type back. “Meet me at the Great American for lunch?”

“That’d be great, except I don’t have a ride out there. I know it’s a little weird but would you mind picking me up?”

I hesitate a second. “From where?” I ask him.

“My place,” he says. “I’m in a dumpy little trailer out by the 309.”

“Sure,” I say, not happy about this, but whatever. “I’ll get you around one.” I send him my number and tell him to text me the address. My phone buzzes a minute later.

“What’s that?” Cora asks me.

“Remember Reggie Wheeler?”

“Sure,” she says. “My brother said he was a big dork, but he always seemed nice to me.”

I laugh a little. “Yeah, Atticus didn’t get along with him back then.”

“You hanging out with him?”

I nod. “Yeah, just for a bit this afternoon. Want to come?”

She shakes her head. “No, that’s okay.”

“You sure? We’re just having lunch right here.”

“I’m sure. I’ll see how my mom’s doing.”

“That works for me,” I say, and we change the subject, talking about logistical stuff. Now that I’m staying in Mason longer, I need to buy more clothes, more toiletries, those sort of things. We make plans to go to Wal-Mart after I drop Reggie back off at his place after lunch.

We head back to the motel after that. I drop off my computer and kill a little time taking a quick shower. I keep imagining what Cora’s doing over in her room, but I have to keep pushing those thoughts away. Having her so close complicates things a lot, although her mom kind of tempers all that.

I want to go next door and taste Cora, the way I’ve been craving her ever since she moved into this motel with her mom, but I know I shouldn’t. I have to head out and pick up Reggie, and plus, her mom is only a couple doors down. She’s not right next door, thankfully, but still. I don’t want to push something on Cora that she might not be comfortable with.

So instead of doing what my whole body craves, I get dressed and head out in my crappy rental.

Reggie lives in one of many trailer parks. This one’s tucked into a neighborhood with a stream on one side and the 309 Bypass on the other. It’s probably noisy as hell, but most folks don’t always get to choose where they live, and as far as parks go, this one’s not half bad.

Although I’m surprised Reggie ended up here. He was always a good student and a nice kid, always seemed like the type to get out of Mason and escape these endless trailers.

I park my car near a small trailer at the end of a little street. It’s in decent shape, and although small, it looks pretty sturdy. I’ve seen much worse, and clearly Reggie keeps his place nice, which is respectable. I feel bad, judging him for living in a trailer. A lot of good folks live in trailers, and I can already tell that my time living in the city has shifted my perspective and maybe made me more judgmental.

As I climb out of the car, I make a mental note not to let my prejudices get in the way. I have to remember that I came from this town, too. There’s nothing wrong with living in a trailer, and there’s a lot wrong with judging people like an asshole.

I head up to the door and knock. Reggie answers a minute later, grinning that old grin I remember, though he’s definitely grown up.

“Reggie,” I say as he opens the door. “How are you, man?”

“I’m great!” He ignores my handshake and wraps me in a huge hug, lifting me up off the ground. I’m a big man, muscular and heavy, and Reggie’s at least my size, if not a little taller. He used to be shorter and pudgier, but clearly the kid hit a growth spurt later in life, because he’s enormous now.

He lets me go and I laugh. “Holy shit, look at you.”

He grins and shrugs. “Guess you haven’t seen me in a while.” He flexes a little bit, “Not the nerd you remember, huh?”

“Not at all.” He’s dressed in jeans and a tight shirt. He steps out onto the porch, shutting the door behind him.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Let’s roll.”

We go over to my car and climb inside. Reggie leans back, a smile on his face.

“Look at you, Wyatt Reap, come home.”

“Came here for Atticus,” I say to him.

Reggie nods. “Shame about that.”

I’m surprised to note that he does actually seem unhappy. “I thought you hated Atticus?”

He shrugs. “We made up after school. You know high school ends, right?”

I laugh softly. “I guess so.” We head out and I can’t help but feel a little surprised. Reggie really hated Atticus back then, and Atticus didn’t exactly hold back in his incessant mockery of him. It didn’t seem like the kind of relationship that can be repaired.

Then again, Reggie’s enormous now, so I guess anything’s possible.

We head back toward the Great American. It’s a ten-minute drive, more or less a straight shot, and we chat for the first few minutes, just catching up.

Suddenly Reggie leans forward. “Shit, man!” he says. “Can we pull off here?”

“What?” I ask him.

“Right there, turn right,” he says, pointing ahead.

Although it’s not the way toward the Great American, I follow his directions. “Where are we going?” I ask him.

“I just need to pick something up. It’s not a big deal, it’ll just take a second.”

“What do you need to get?” I have a weird feeling as we pull down a side street. There are trees on either side of the car, and I vaguely recognize the place as one far end of the nature preserve.

“It’s just ahead,” he says. The car bumps over some stones and the pavement turns into gravel.

“What could you possibly need here?” I ask him.

“Just up there, I swear this’ll only take a second.”

I turn around a bend, and I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly afraid. I pull the car over, ready to turn around and get the fuck out of here, but before I can there’s a gun pressed against my side.

“Why’d you stop?” Reggie asks me softly.

“What the fuck?” I say, shocked.

Reggie’s grin is huge. “I told you, it’s just ahead.

“What are you doing?”

He leans toward me. “You’ve been a bad boy, Wyatt.”

“What the fuck?”

He shoves the gun harder against my ribs. “Drive or I kill you.”

I start driving again, mind racing. Why the fuck is Reggie doing this shit? Is he getting revenge for something I did in high school, or is he just trying to rob me?

And then the answer becomes obvious: he’s a fucking Niner.

Of course he is. That’s why he lives in a trailer, that’s why he’s still in Mason. That’s why he made up with Atticus.

I’m such an idiot. I should have done more research on him, at least checked to see who he was friends with on Facebook. Instead, I just blindly accepted that he’s the guy he used to be back in school.

They knew I’d do that, or at least he probably guessed. He knew I’d let him get close to me like this, and now I’m alone with the fucker, and he’s got a gun on my goddamn ribs.

Fear spikes, but I have to keep it at bay. I can’t let fear destroy my mind right now. I’m going to need it if I can get through this.

Unbidden, Cora’s face flashes through my mind as I come up to a clearing. “Park up there,” Reggie says.

Cora’s face, smiling at me, as I pull the car next to some trees.

“Get out,” Reggie says. “Slowly.”

I open my door and climb out. Reggie keeps the gun trained on me before slowly climbing out his side.

And I know it’s my only chance. I turn and sprint off into the trees. I briefly hear Reggie curse, and I brace myself for the gunshot, but he doesn’t pull the trigger.

I crash through the underbrush. I can hear him coming after me, but I have a good head start. I jump a fallen log and wind my way through trees, getting into denser and denser forest.

“Wyatt! Stop, motherfucker!” Reggie yells. He sounds out of breath.

I don’t slow down. I curse myself for not bringing my fucking gun, but I can’t do anything about that now. I keep pushing myself, running as hard as I can, my breath coming in ragged. I know I can’t keep running forever, but I need some space between me and Reggie.

I crash through a dense bush, right into the center of a small ring of trees. Instead, of going forward, I step to the side and press myself up against one of the trunks, my back against it. Reggie couldn’t have seen my move, and I’m hoping he’s running hard to just keep pace.

I hear him blundering closer. He curses and pushes in through the bushes, trotting after me. He goes past and I step out behind him, catching him by the neck on his shirt, yanking it back as hard as I can.

It catches on his throat, pulling him backward. He’s surprised, not expecting that, and he drops back. I slam him onto the ground and he makes an awful gagging sound as I drop on top of him, slamming my knee into the wrist of his gun hand. He releases the weapon as I slam the heel of my hand into his face, smashing his nose. I feel and hear the bone break.

“Fuck!” he screams. I grab the gun from the ground and get off him, rolling to the side and standing. “Oh fucking shit, you broke my nose.”

I level the gun at him. “You’re lucky that’s all I did.”

He snorts blood onto the ground and sits up, staring at me with these wide, wild eyes. “You should go back to the city, Wyatt,” he says.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because what happened to Atticus is going to happen to you.”

I step closer, gun held straight and steady at his skull. “What happened to him?”

He laughs. “I’d rather take a bullet than fucking tell you, pig.”

Anger rages through me. “We used to be friends.”

He sneers at me. “Friends? I was just some fucking nerd you pitied.”

“No,” I say softly.

“The Niners are the only people that ever cared about me.”

I stare at him, completely horrified. He looks like a monster, a shadow of the guy I used to know. I grip the gun and for a second, I picture what it would be like to kill him. Part of me wants to do it. This bastard is destroying this city, along with his gang friends, but it’s more than that. For me, it’s fucking personal.

I really did think we were friends. I trusted him, wanted to see him again, and he wanted to murder me. All for this fucking gang. I grip the gun, hand shaking.

He grins at me, eyes wide. “Do it, Reap,” he says. “I wouldn’t have hesitated.”

I relax my grip and shake my head. I pull my phone out of my pants and quickly pull a number up. I keep my eyes on Reggie as the phone rings.

“Hey, Wyatt,” Mitch says.

“Do you remember Reggie?”

“Shit, yeah, I do,” Mitch answers quickly. “Listen, Wyatt, he’s not the same guy you knew back in high school—“

“I have him here at gunpoint,” I say. “He tried to kill me.”

Mitch is silent for a second. “Where are you?”

I explain the best I can. “You’ll see my car.”

“I think I know the spot. You hang tight. We’ll be there soon.”

“Got it.” I hang up and Reggie starts laughing.

“Who the fuck was that?” he asks me.

“That was the end for you,” I say to him softly. “I really did think we were friends.”

His laugh cracks through the air, sending chills down my spine.