Janie felt the blood drain out of her face. Without thinking, she raced back down the hall and into her room, grabbing a sweatshirt and slipping into her runners. She was back out by the time Dave passed by, a terrified look on his face and his keys in his hand.

She met him at the door.

“Wha—” He scuffed his shoe on the floor and staggered into the door, his usual grace gone. His puffy eyes and disorientation suggested he still wasn’t completely awake. That, or fear for his mom was clouding his thoughts.

She grabbed the keys out of his hand, opened the door, and pushed him out. That she could was a testimony to how out of it he was.

“I’ll drive. Where’s your water and coffee?” She pointed at his empty hands.

“Damn it—”

“I got it.” She ran back into his room and snatched them off the dresser. The coffee splashed her wrist, burning her. She ignored it and ran back, thrusting the containers into his hands. “Let’s go.”

He reached for his keys. “No. You shouldn’t come. Betty won’t be in her right mind. She isn’t fun to be around.”

Janie ran around him, heading toward the parking area. “You fear for your mom. That means she has some good attributes in there somewhere. I grew up with a woman who doesn’t. At least not when it comes to me. Trust me, I’ll be fine.”

As she neared his car, she chanced a glance back to make sure he was following.

“Janie, please, give me the keys. This isn’t your concern.”

“Atticus wasn’t yours. My life struggles aren’t yours. Yet you’ve helped me every step of the way. If I can stand by you, support you or help you, I will. Now hurry up; you’re wasting time by arguing.”

She clicked the key fob and opened the driver’s-side door. His confusion was evident when she sat in the captain’s seat. “You’re loopy. It’ll be safer if I drive.”

He got into the passenger side a moment later, sucking down the water.

“Where to?” she asked, flipping into reverse and backing out much faster than he ever did. He reached for the dashboard to brace himself as water sloshed out of the bottle. “Oh sure, you get splashed by the cool water, whereas I get to be a burn victim.”

“Take a right here.” He secured his drinks between his legs and worked at his phone. Moments later, Siri’s voice streamed from the speakers, telling her where to go.

“Bluetooth. One day I’ll have a car with Bluetooth.” She stepped on the gas.

“By the time you get it, the technology will have moved on.” He slurped down the rest of the water.

“Is she in a home, or…” Janie let her words linger as she pushed past the speed limit.

“Trailer park.” He cleared his throat. “Where I grew up.”

She took the turn too fast and a smile slid up her face despite the circumstances. The car could really take a corner. “How nice for you. I got to grow up in the projects, kept safe by my stolen gun. I honestly don’t even know if it worked, but showing it around kept people off my back. That, and I once stabbed a guy who tried to get handsy. In the upper thigh. I was aiming for his crotch, but I missed. Probably a good thing. Last I heard, he still has a limp. How about you don’t try to take what ain’t yours, bitch?”

She belatedly realized he was staring at her. A quick glance showed her his expression was unreadable.

She turned onto the freeway before raising her hand. “I win.”

He shook his head and looked away. “I guess you do. How’d you get a friend like Madison if you grew up poor?”

“Cheating. Claiming someone else’s address as ours so I could get into a better high school, then committing a federal crime and going through their mail in case the school tried to contact me. How’d you hook up with Colton?”

“My aunt lived in the school district. I stayed with her half the time. When things got bad at my house. My stepfather was abusive before I was old enough to fight back.”

She did a so-so wag of her hand. “That one might be a tie. My mother slapped me a few times, but that was it. I guess you won’t be so embarrassed around me about this stuff anymore, huh?”

“I should’ve known, honestly. I mean, I could tell you were a scrapper, like me, but I didn’t know to what extent. It makes sense I’d be drawn to someone with similar roots.”

Heat rushed to her face and her stomach flipped with his admission. She pushed it away. He obviously meant as friends. “Now who’s slumming it?”

Dave huffed once, all the laughter he could muster. His face still clearly showed the fear and worry he felt for his mom. “We’ll take turns slumming it. Now it’s my turn, and when you’re rich and famous, we’ll switch.”

“That’s fair, I suppose.”

After half an hour of strained conversation in which Janie kept trying to find something that might keep him from dwelling, they turned off the freeway. A few more turns and the cracked roads filled with potholes dwindled until they were cruising down a gravel lane.

“We should’ve brought my car,” Janie said softly as they rolled through the entrance of the bent and badly leaning fence surrounding the trailer park. Dirt marred the various dwellings and weeds choked the tiny yards. One of the trailers had replaced a window with duct tape. “This one really sticks out.”

“Here.” Dave pointed at a yellow-orange single-wide trailer with flaking white paint on the door and window frames and the broken picket fence out front, revealing the stained brown beneath. “I would’ve kept up the painting, but she said that her rich son made the neighbors think she was putting on airs, so I stopped.”

Janie could hear the heartbreak in his voice. It squeezed a deep part inside her, making her want to put her arms around him.

Before the car had even come to a complete stop, he flipped the lock and swung the door open, hopping out. She was out a moment later, running up the steps behind him as he turned the handle and pushed. Nothing happened.

He peered in the window beside the door and then switched sides. Not seeing anything, he thumped back down the steps.

She waited impatiently as he disappeared around the corner, probably headed to check out the back stairs. A moment later he was back, determination combating the terror in his expression. He moved Janie to the side gently before ramming the door with his shoulder. Wood groaned and the hinges squealed as it broke. Dave pushed through with Janie following close behind.

Magazines lay scattered around the living room area, as though they had been stacked and someone had flung them off the coffee table. An empty pill bottle lay on the couch. The white cap rested beside one of the fallen magazines.

“Betty?” Dave called, doing a frantic eye sweep.

Janie grabbed the pill bottle and read the label. Xanax prescribed to Nora Hutchinson.

“Betty!”

Janie slipped the bottle into her pocket and hurried after Dave, who’d run down the short hall to the right. The fridge door stood open and food had been pulled out. Milk lay in a puddle on the crappy linoleum floor.

A door stood open down the hall, and Dave’s broad back filled the frame. He had his hands up. Every muscle tensed on his sizable frame.

“Put the gun down, Betty. This will pass,” he said, his voice quavering.

A surge of adrenaline ran through Janie’s body. There was no way the older woman would go through with it now that her son was there, but it had obviously been close. How terrible.

Janie’s middle ached. He truly did love and fear for his mother. He needed her. Janie was sure that the fridge had been stocked by him, or someone he employed. The ingredients were top quality, and she knew he bought the same brands for himself. The place was probably cleaned by a company every so often, judging by how orderly most things were, and the magazines were surely paid for by Dave.

Dave whored it up to take care of his mother in any way he could. He worked his ass off to provide.

Warmth and sadness filled Janie’s heart. He was only trying to do what was right. Maybe trying to make up for all the times he couldn’t help her with the abusive father. Or the times he’d spent in safety with his aunt while his mother was left to fend for herself. It wasn’t an original tale, but an extremely damaging one to softhearted people like Dave.

The other piece of the puzzle was easy to see.

Betty was on a drug trip of some kind, and her anger had been directed at Dave. She hated that her son babied her. Organic milk? A cleaner? He flashed his wealth around and made her the subject of her friends’ mockery. Janie could practically hear the gossip and snide remarks now.

The catty bitches in this trailer park were jealous of Betty’s setup, of her rich son, and they made it known in passive-aggressive ways that warped a drug-twisted mind. Her rage at her son probably lasted only so long—then her love of her baby boy would take over and she’d feel sick for thinking such hateful thoughts. The anger would turn into self-loathing. Self-loathing would then turn into giving up.

Janie’s mom had tried to use mind tricks on Janie, too. Tried to make her feel bad about herself. But Janie was a very different sort of woman, and she didn’t take that kind of crap from anyone.

If only Betty had the same constitution, poor Dave wouldn’t have to be in this situation.

Frustration and anger boiled up inside Janie. Judging by the practiced way Dave was now trying to talk Betty down, trying to coax her to let him in the room, to put down the gun, this was a situation on repeat. They’d been here multiple times before. This had to be something that constantly dragged Dave down. Something that was always in the back of his mind.

Is today the day my mom will kill herself?

The only saving grace was that, at one point in the past, Betty had agreed to call Dave before she did anything drastic. As a favor. Maybe as a final apology before she tried to quit causing him so much pain by living.

No, not an original tale with substance abusers, but a nightmare all the same. Poor Dave.

“That’s right, go ahead and lower the gun,” Dave was saying, edging into the room.

Of course, Janie’s read on the situation might be off in a million ways, but she didn’t think so. She’d been exposed to plenty of bullshit in her life. A girl learned a thing or two.

Sobbing drifted out of the room and Dave rushed in, probably to kick away the gun before scooping his mom up.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” Dave cooed.

Janie turned away with anger simmering. Damned if she was going to let this continue.

We’re stronger together.

Dave was too softhearted and kind to do what needed to be done. Too naive where it concerned the real problem in Betty’s life: the suppliers. The drug problem could be fixed right after the suppliers were taken out of business.

First step was damage control.

She stalked into the bedroom. Dave had kneeled in front of his sobbing mother. Another pill bottle lay on the ground with three pills spread around it.

Oxycodone. Prescribed to Sam Hutchinson. Betty was in deep with pain meds.

Beer cans lay crumpled in the corner. That add-on would really mess someone up.

“Move.” She pushed Dave to the side and bent over the older woman, her face deeply lined and her eyes red and swollen. “Look at me,” Janie demanded.

“Janie, what are you—”

“Betty, look at me.” She shook Betty. “Betty! Look at me.”

Betty’s vague gaze roamed before drifting toward Janie’s face. Huge pupils and the inability to focus said the woman was in bad shape.

Janie saw the gun lying behind Dave, out of Betty’s reach. She glanced back at Dave, ignoring the misery plain on his face.

In this one situation, Janie’s miserable upbringing was actually a benefit. It almost felt like everything in her life—her childhood, the crap with Atticus—had happened so she could do this piece of good. So she and Dave would be forced into each other’s lives at exactly the right time. Him to help her; her to help him. She believed in fate, and this screamed of fate’s hand.

Which would be the subject of her next painting. Right now, it was the reason she’d take charge.

“Did you buy that for her?” She pointed at the gun.

“No. I have no idea how she got it.”

Janie quickly snatched it off the ground and took a quick look. A fully loaded revolver. The serial number was scratched off. She’d bet those Hutchinsons had a good idea where the firearm came from.

“Load her up into the car. She needs to go to the hospital.” Janie grabbed the pill bottle and headed to the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

“What are you—”

“Dave, go!” She opened the medicine cabinet and widened her eyes at the sea of orange bottles with white labels. There were way too many to carry.

“Here we go, Betty.” Dave scooped up his mother like he would a baby.

Janie dashed out into the kitchen, grabbed a bag, and ran back. She swiped all the bottles into it before having a last look around the trailer. Nothing else seemed of note.

Back in the kitchen, she put the perishables into the fridge and closed the door. No sense in wasting money.

Dave had just tucked his mother into the back seat when Janie reached the car.

She didn’t get in right away.

Instead, she held one of the pill bottles in her hand and rested it on the roof of the car in clear sight. She made a show of sweeping her gaze along the homes across from her, then down the row. At the end of the park, in the nicest trailer Janie had seen thus far, a shadow lurked in the window. Watching them.

“Hello, Mister or Missus Hutchinson,” she murmured. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”