My foot barely leaves the gas pedal as I drive.

I can’t stand the idea of Grayson sitting unattended while Savannah’s engrossed with some guy. Even if he was asleep. The kid deserves her undivided commitment. What if he had another heart-rhythm scare and had to be rushed to the hospital? His condition isn’t a movie that you can pause and resume.

And now she’s having another one.

Grayson is fighting for his life and she’s going to add another infant to the mix.

I press the brake for the first time, slowing the car as I turn into my driveway. I’ve had my window down the entire way, but for the first time I feel the gust of the wind.

I need to grab my camera and go get lost for the day. Maybe I’ll pack the tent and go sleep—

My train of thought derails the second I catch sight of a black F-150 parked outside my house. I throw my foot back on the gas and build some speed before skidding to a stop beside it. My tires fill the air with a loud skirt. I kill the ignition and prepare for the last person I want to see right now.

“Hello Cliff.” I slam my door and stride through a cloud of smoke drifting out his open window. Behind me, the door of his F-150 creaks open and dirt crunches as he steps out.

“Thought you was at church or somethin’,” Cliff says lazily, “But you ain’t really the church goin’ type, are ya?”

“You have a real knack for showing up at the wrong time, you know that?” I turn to face him as I unlock the front door. “I’m not really in the mood for chitchat right now.”

Cliff brings his cigarette to his lips and inhales a long drag while staring back at me. He drops the cigarette and crushes it under his boot. “You gon’ invite me in?”

I step into the house without bothering to close the door behind me. A second later, Cliff’s boot heels clunk loudly against the floor.

“I saw you came in the truck,” I say, retrieving an empty glass from the cupboard. “You got nothing else to do on your day off?”

His boots clink into the kitchen. “I just thought we could have a little conversation, you and I.”

“You’ve really got to get yourself some hobbies.” I pour a splash of gin into my glass and top it off with tonic water. “You ever thought about fishing?”

“Sometimes I think that nothin’ I say gets through to you unless I’m standing in front of your face,” he says. There’s the sound of a stool receiving his bulky weight as he sits down.

I turn to face him. “What about knitting?”

Cliff leans back, props both feet on the island and glares without saying a word. After a moment of holding his stare, he breaks the silence.

“What kind’a host doesn’t offer his guest a drink?”

I cut my sip short to answer. “The kind whose guest sponsors a local AA program.”

“I’ll take a bourbon and water. Make it strong.”

“I guess someone like you doesn’t worry about DUI’s, huh?” I ask, turning to grab another glass out of the cupboard.

“I said water too, didn’t I?” His southern drawl morphs into harsh sarcasm as if I can hear the smirk on his face.

Cliff drops his legs from the counter when I slide his bourbon over to him. He takes a long gulp before leaning back and propping his feet right back up again.

“My brother’s probably rolling in his grave right now watching you slurp that after all the years in AA you two spent together,” I say.

Cliff coughs a raspy chuckle. “Oh, please. That boy loved those meetings and all them folks in ‘em. I was just doin’ him a favor.” He takes a swig. “And you can tell him I never stopped drinking anyway. Your brother was always a little naïve for his own good.”

“How admirable of you.”

“Don’t blame me. Sponsoring those AA members is great for the public image,” he says. “Voters in this county are a bunch’a drunks.” He takes another swig and punctuates his sentence with a wink.

“Well, I’m sure the respect is mutual.” For the first time I sip from my drink as I take a seat across from him. I throw my feet up in imitation.

Cliff eyes me like he’s trying to burn the smirk off my face. Slowly, he drains the contents of his glass.

He drops his feet and slams the empty glass on the table. “Put your damn feet down. We need to talk.”

“Oh, and here I thought you showed up just to share a drink.”

He slaps my feet off the counter. “If you ain’t in the mood for a long chitchat then you best start talkin’. What in the hell happened on Thursday?”

“Let me think; I woke up. It was a nice day so I decided to go for a walk and take some pictures before—”

Cliff beats the granite with his fist. “Do I look like I’m in the mood for jokes?”

“Here’s a joke for you—” I lean in for the first time. “—you barge into my house and talk to me like I’m a kid in timeout instead of thanking me and Owen for keeping the three of us from going to fucking prison, isn’t that kind of funny?”

Cliff crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, the ends of his stubby mustache curling into a smirk. He’s faking a calm demeanor but there’s anger burning in his eyes.

“Speakin’ of Owen,” he says, “I guess I ought’a tell you I talked to him before comin’ over.”

“You think I give a shit?”

“See, I bring it up because I have a pretty good idea of what went down with the two of you. Exactly what happened, and… what didn’t happen,” he says.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I think we’d both agree that boy ain’t necessarily the sharpest tool in the shed.” He chuckles and sarcastically shakes his head. “But even he knows how to use a weapon.”

“So that’s what this is about?” Finally I give in and laugh. “That’s why you sat out there waiting for me to get home? Just to say that? You know neither one of us actually shot at anyone, right?”

“I know you sure as hell didn’t,” he barks. “I ain’t even sure you know how to use that revolver of yours.”

“Cliff, do you really think things would’ve gone better if I had shot her? Huh? Are you fucking insane?”

He crosses one leg over his knee and raises his shoulders in a phony shrug. “I guess we ain’t ever gonna know, will we?”

“Jesus Christ.” I down the rest of my glass. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you of all people. Did you forget that we got away? Huh, Cliff? Did you forget that we’re not also wanted for murder right now?”

“Don’t give me none of that bullshit,” he spits. He drops his leg from his knee and narrows his pudgy eyes. “If your partner ain’t have the balls to press his trigger than you two would be a pair of fresh meat right now.” He snickers. “And you ain’t cut out for jail life, I promise you that.”

“Oh yeah? And what, you’d just be scot-free?” I huff a laugh without humor. “I think you’re forgetting that you’re involved in all of this. If Owen and I go down, you go down too.”

“I guess that’s exactly why I’m here.” He kicks his stool out from under him and takes a step toward me. “I ain’t ever goin’ down ‘cause of your coward ass, you understand me?” He points a thick finger a few inches from my face.

I stare back at him, unwavering. His wheezing breath reeks of burnt tobacco and whiskey.

“Pour me another drink,” he says.

I reach for the bourbon without breaking our stare and shove it in his chest. “Pour it yourself.”

Cliff grabs the bottle, this time neglecting any water as he pours. I take a seat on a stool.

“She really twisted your britches, huh?”

My heart stops in my chest as I picture Sophia. “What’d you say?”

“The teller at the last spot, the one that cost us money.” He slaps the counter and relief overtakes me.

“They knew about us. Did Owen tell you that?” I ask calmly. “That teller said she wouldn’t open it because they had been warned.”

Cliff scoffs. “Course they have. That don’t—”

“The Feds are getting them to resist,” I continue. “They’re bucking policy just to try and nail us. We need to lay low for a while. Two months.”

“What?” he roars. I feel a small protest in my own chest too, but I have enough saved up if Grayson has an immediate emergency. This is what needs to be done.

“You heard me,” I say. “For two months Owen and I won’t so much as speed, and you keep your ears open. At the end of March we’ll reevaluate.”

“There ain’t shit to reevaluate, son,” Cliff spits. “I ain’t wastin’ two months.”

I lean over the island. “I didn’t even want to hit that spot. I said it was too soon and you didn’t give a shit. Your greed is going to get us all fucked.”

Instead of the furious outburst I was expecting, Cliff leans back, crosses his arms, and fills his chest with a deep breath. He stares at me before shifting his gaze to his glass, slowly twisting it in his hand as if examining the contents as a heavy silence fills every inch of the room.

“You know something?” he finally says, shaking his head in mocking disappointment. His eyes move from the bourbon onto me. “You’re brother wasn’t half the pussy you are.”

That’s it.

A rush of fury erupts in my chest. My muscles tense and before I know it I’m an inch from his face.

Cliff stands.

“Gimme your best swing, son,” he whispers between his teeth. “We both know where that’ll get’cha.”

“Get the hell out of my house,” I hiss.

Cliff brings his glass to his mouth and swallows the rest of the bourbon in one gulp.

“I’d have a nice long chat with your boy if I was you,” he drawls, slowly meandering toward the door. He lingers while turning the handle. “He ain’t a genius, but he seems to understand the use of… physical persuasion, shall we say.”

He tips his hat, steps out, and gently shuts the door behind him.