I’d only been scared—really, truly scared—three times in my life. The first was when Scarlett was a kid and tumbled out of a tree. I’d thought she’d broken both legs. Turned out it had just been the one. The second was when Jameson had fallen through the ice and almost drowned. We’d made a human chain to pull him out, but that could have gone very, very wrong. The third was the day I found out Callie had disappeared.
Right now was number four. And it was feeling a hell of a lot like number three.
19
GIBSON
Thirteen years ago
I kicked my aching feet up onto the crate I used as a coffee table, next to a half-eaten greasy pizza still in the box. I’d worked late, eaten dinner late—that pizza was sitting like a rock in my gut—and now I couldn’t sleep.
I flipped through the channels, idly looking for something to watch, caught between not tired enough to go to bed and too tired to do much else. I settled on a rerun of some cop show, and tossed the remote on the couch next to me.
My phone rang and I picked it up. Why were my parents calling? It was getting close to midnight.
“Yeah.”
“Gibs, it’s Mom.”
“I know it’s you, Mom. Your number comes up when you call.”
“Right. Listen, sugar, I need a favor.”
The hitch in her voice got my attention. She sounded upset. And she hadn’t called me sugar in years. “What’s up?”
“Can your brothers and sister come stay with you tonight?”
“I s’pose. Why?”
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “It would just help me out.”
I rolled my eyes. My mom upset, asking for a favor, trying to get my siblings out of the house? She and Dad were fighting again. I didn’t bother asking what it was about. It wasn’t like it mattered; they were always fighting about something.
“Sure. You need me to come pick ’em up?”
“No, Bowie’s gonna drive ’em over,” she said. “Thanks.”
“Uh-huh.”
I hung up and put my phone down. Damn it, Dad, what did you do this time? He’d probably come home drunk again and Mom didn’t want Scarlett to see. As if we all didn’t know. I hoped there hadn’t been too much yelling. It was like they didn’t realize half the town could hear them.
Even though it was late, I wondered if they’d eaten any dinner. I got up and checked the kitchen cupboards. I kept a few things on hand—easy stuff—for times like this. Tonight was going to be boxed mac and cheese, unless Mom had already fed everybody before Dad fucked up everyone’s night.
Not more than five minutes later there was a knock on my door. My feet hurt and I wanted to sit and stare at the TV, doing nothing. But instead, I had to play fucking babysitter to a bunch of teenagers.
“It’s open,” I said.
Bowie came in first, wearing a baseball cap and a Bootleg Springs High School t-shirt. Scarlett was right behind him, her long hair in a ponytail. Her freckled nose was scrunched up, like she was annoyed about something. Growing up with three older brothers, she was probably annoyed more often than not.
Behind her was Jameson. His hat was pulled low over his forehead, as if he was trying to hide under it. He towered over Scarlett, and I realized he’d somehow gotten to be almost as tall as me and Bow. Made sense. He was sixteen, now.
Jameson shut the door with his foot, then he and Scarlett put their fingers on their noses and simultaneously said, “Not it.”
“Dang it, you guys,” Bowie said.
“Bowie gets the floor,” Scarlett said. “Jame, you wanna flip a coin for the couch?”
“I got it.” I pulled a quarter out of the change jar I kept on the counter. “Heads or tails, Scar?”
“Tails.”
I tossed the coin in the air, caught it, and flipped it onto my forearm. Removing my hand, I let them both look.
Scarlett did a fist pump. “Yes. Tails.”
Jameson just shrugged, like he didn’t care either way.
“Y’all hungry?” I asked, dropping the coin back in the jar.
“Starving,” Scarlett said.
No dinner, then. I met Bowie’s eyes and he raised his eyebrows. He followed me into the tiny kitchen, and I got out a pan.
“What happened?” I asked, keeping my voice low. None of us liked talking about it when they fought. What was the point? And it just upset Scarlett more.
“I’m not sure,” Bowie said. “Dad got home real late and then they went upstairs for a long time. I heard raised voices, but not like they were yelling. I don’t know what’s going on.”
I filled the pan with water, put it on the burner, and turned on the heat. “Whatever. Y’all can crash here. It’s quieter at least.”
He got the milk and butter out of the fridge and set them on the counter. “Yeah, thanks.”
Anger at my dad ran hot through my veins. Why did he have to make things so goddamn difficult? Why couldn’t we just be a normal family?
“Go play cards or something with Scar, will ya?” I asked. “I’ve got this. And y’all can have a piece of pizza if you want, too. It’s from earlier.”
Bowie nodded and dug out the pack of cards I kept in the junk drawer. Like the boxed mac and cheese, they were here for nights like this. When my siblings had to sleep over because my parents were making the whole family miserable.
I glanced out into the other room. Jameson was huddled up in the corner of the couch, his legs bent, drawing something in that notebook of his. He hadn’t said more than two words since he got here, and I’d probably be lucky to hear two or three more before he left tomorrow. Looking at him over there made my chest hurt a little. He was a good kid. He deserved better.
Bowie was dealing cards on the crate while Scarlett sat across from him, perched on the edge of the couch. Her purple cardigan hung off one sunburned shoulder. I noticed she’d replaced the top button with a yellow butterfly. All the girls Scarlett’s age had started doing it. Callie had started the trend.
Thinking about Callie made me crack a smile as I ripped open the boxes of mac and cheese. That girl was something else. Sweet as sugar with a voice like an angel. I wondered if Scarlett, or any of the other kids in town, knew she could sing. I bet they didn’t. Callie was like that, only showing certain parts of herself to the people she trusted.
And I was one of them. That was pretty fucking cool.
I’d missed her today. She’d probably been hanging out at the lake with Scarlett and Cass and the rest of the kids in town. Not only had I been busy at work, we’d taken too big of a risk yesterday to chance being seen together for a little while.
It was an unspoken thing, the way Callie and I hung out without telling people. She didn’t have to explain to me why it was necessary to keep it a secret. She was sixteen, for one. I wasn’t about to make a move on a girl so much younger, but other people wouldn’t know that.
It wasn’t about that anyway. Had she been older, sure, I might have seen her differently. She was pretty as a summer day. And who knew, maybe someday, when she was a proper adult…
But I didn’t let myself think like that. It felt disrespectful to my friend. Because that’s what she was—my friend. We shared something, and the afternoons we spent together—playing music, singing, daydreaming—were some of the best times I’d ever had.
She didn’t look at me like everyone else, like she already knew exactly where my life was going and was unimpressed. Disappointed, even.
She looked at me like maybe I was worth something.
And yesterday, seeing her face at that outdoor concert, had been worth the trouble to smuggle her out of town. I’d made damn sure to get her back in plenty of time so she’d have a solid alibi in case her parents asked too many questions. But man, we’d had a good time.
I dumped the macaroni in the boiling water and gave it a stir. Scarlett slapped her palm on the stack of cards on the table. Apparently she and Bow were playing slap-Jack.
When I had
some more money, I needed to get a bigger place. Of course, Bowie would be off to college soon. And it wouldn’t be long before Jameson would be on his own, too. Few years from now, I wouldn’t be hosting my siblings when things were rough at home anymore.
Things changed.
By the time we finished up dinner, it was getting on toward one, so we all hit the sack. I didn’t have to work in the morning, so maybe I’d take them all to Moonshine for breakfast. A stack of pancakes would make Scarlett happy. Jameson, too. I probably had enough pocket money to cover it. Wouldn’t make up for the shitty night, but it was something.
* * *
I got up and headed straight for the coffee maker. Bowie and Jameson were already awake, sitting on the floor with their backs to the couch, playing video games with the sound turned down. Scarlett was curled up on the couch, her eyes open, but only just, like she wasn’t quite ready to be awake yet.
“Morning,” Bowie said without looking away from the screen.
My phone rang. I figured it was Mom, but I saw the Tuckers’ number on the screen.
“Yeah.”
“Gibson? It’s Cass. Is Scarlett there?” There was urgency in her voice. That was weird.
“Yep,” I said. “She doesn’t look awake yet. Wanna talk to her?”
“Yeah, but Gibs, something happened.”
My spine straightened, my back muscles clenching. In that split second, I prepared myself to hear it. Probably a car accident. Had it been one or both of them? Jesus, I hoped Mom was okay. “What?”
“Callie Kendall is missing. She didn’t go home last night.”
It felt like I’d been kicked in the gut, all the air rushing from my lungs, and I almost dropped the phone. “She what?”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s scary,” she said. “My dad left to start organizing a search.”
“Shit,” I muttered. Keeping my face carefully neutral, I walked into the other room and handed the phone to Scarlett.
“What’s wrong?” Bowie asked.
I hesitated for a second, not sure I could get the words out.
“What did you just say?” Scarlett shrieked into the phone. “Callie Kendall’s missing? You can’t be serious.”
“That,” I said, gesturing toward Scarlett.
Fear turned my blood to ice. She hadn’t made it home? It was morning. Did that mean she’d been out somewhere all night? Where the fuck would she have gone? Who would have…
Oh god, no. No, no, please no. Not Callie.
Scarlett hung up and the three of them looked at me, like I was supposed to have an answer.
“What do we do?” Scarlett asked, her voice unusually quiet.
“Y’all go on home,” I said, surprised I sounded normal. “She probably just spent the night at someone’s house and forgot to check in with her parents. She’ll turn up, or the cops will find her.”
“Hope so,” Scarlett said, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
It seemed to take forever and a fucking day for them to clear out. I griped at them that I had shit to do, but that didn’t make anyone move faster. I felt like I was crawling out of my own skin. I watched my phone, willing it to ring. For Cassidy to call back and say Callie had turned up. It was all a big misunderstanding and she was fine.
But the call didn’t come.
And what was I supposed to do? Tell my siblings they had to get home so I could look for her? How would I explain that? If word got out that I’d been hanging out with her—in secret, no less—nothing good would come of it. I’d just get her in trouble with her parents, not to mention what the rest of the town would think. Her daddy was a judge, and he didn’t seem like the kind of man you wanted to cross. Especially not where his sixteen-year-old daughter was concerned.
So I waited, feeling like a tornado raged inside me, until Bowie took Jameson and Scarlett home. As soon as Bow drove out of sight, I hopped in my pickup. I knew where I’d look first. I had no idea why she’d have gone out there last night, or why she’d still be there now if she had, but I hoped to god I’d find her.
I drove out of town and turned onto a dirt road. I parked in the usual place and rushed out to our spot, desperately hoping I’d find her curled up in a sleeping bag or sitting in front of a little campfire. Maybe she’d had a fight with her parents and spent the night out here. She didn’t talk about her family—and I didn’t talk about mine—so who knew. It could explain why she hadn’t gone home.
But if she was in trouble, why hadn’t she come to me? She had to know I’d help her. I’d do just about anything for that girl.
Debris crunched under my shoes as I ran. I burst into the clearing, but it was empty. Silent. No sign of a fire. Just the log she and I always sat on.
“Callie?” I called, turning in a slow circle. “Callie, you out here?”
I spent an hour searching the woods, tracing the route she usually took. I walked toward her parents’ house, calling her name. Maybe she’d been out here last night and fallen. Hurt herself and couldn’t get home.
I didn’t find anything but trees.
By the time I drove back into town, I knew it was serious. She hadn’t been found. She hadn’t slept over with a friend and carelessly forgotten to check in. I could tell without even stopping to ask. Knots of people stood on the street, talking to each other, their faces etched with concern. A deputy cruised past, his window rolled down, like he was making the rounds, searching.
And there wasn’t a single kid to be seen. The sun shone bright and the air was warm, but no scabby-kneed Bootleg kids ran down the sidewalk with lemonade or ice cream cones. No packs of teenagers strolled to the lake with beach blankets slung over their arms. I did a loop past the beach and it was almost empty. Looked like a few summertimers had set up a picnic, but there was no one I recognized.
I circled the town in my truck, driving past Callie’s house about a dozen times. Sheriff Tucker’s car was there at first. When I passed again, maybe ten minutes later, it was gone. I slowed down, staring at the big front door. It was like that driveway led to another world, with judges and money and important people. A world I couldn’t reach. As much as I wanted to go in there—talk to her parents and offer to help—I couldn’t.
So I kept driving. I took the highway out toward Perrinville. Stopped along the way and checked the trails. My mind raced, coming up with explanations, each one worse than the last. Had she hurt herself on the way home and couldn’t get help? She walked everywhere. Had she been hit by a car? The cops had to be checking local hospitals.
But what if she got hit and whoever did it tried to hide it? Dumped her body in the lake?
Or what if someone took her? She wasn’t stupid enough to get in a car with a stranger offering a ride. Unless it wasn’t a stranger. But why would someone she knew kidnap her?
I didn’t have a single answer. The day wore on, the sun moving relentlessly toward the horizon. I only stopped searching to make a pit stop at the Pop In. Partly because I was hungry as shit, and partly because it was the easiest way to find out what was going on. People talked in this town.
Search parties had been organized. They’d been sweeping the town, the woods, the beaches, the hot springs. People were already speculating—everything from she’d run off with a boy to she’d drowned in the lake. But no one had seen any sign of her since last night. She’d said goodbye to the kids at the beach, and no one had seen her since.
I wandered back to my truck, the ache in my chest threatening to swallow me whole. I’d never felt so helpless in my entire life. My eyes burned and a single tear broke free from the corner of my eye. Something terrible had happened to her. I felt it, deep in my bones. Something awful, and there was nothing I could do to help her.
20
MAYA
Shelby and I sat in the almost-empty Yee Haw Yarn and Coffee sipping our sweet tea. Billy Ray was curled up beneath her chair, chewing on a toy, making cute puppy-growl noises. Cash was asleep next to me, tuckered out f
rom playing fetch earlier and his excitement over meeting Billy Ray.
She’d called, waking me from my nap, and asked if I’d like to hang out with her and the girls tonight. She was already out and about, so she’d offered to come pick me up. We were currently killing time while we waited for Scarlett, Cassidy, June, and Leah Mae. Then we were going to head down to the lake with a take-out picnic.
Just like old times, the girls of Bootleg were happy to tuck me right into their circle.
Gibson’s truck hadn’t been outside—he’d probably gone into town again—so I’d sent him a text to let him know what we were up to.
Shelby and I had been chatting over our drinks—mostly small talk—but she kept eying me, like she had something else she wanted to talk about.
Finally, she leaned closer and lowered her voice, although there wasn’t anyone close enough to overhear. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“How does it feel to be back?”
I took a breath. “Good and strange and familiar and a little bit scary all at once. I’ve been having a lot of feelings.”
“I can imagine.”
“I’ve been Maya for thirteen years, and I really thought I’d be her forever. I didn’t think anything in my past would be a part of my life again. It hurt to let the good things go, but…”
“But you had to.”
I nodded. “Back then, it was about survival. I was a very broken girl.”
She tilted her head, like she was scrutinizing me, and adjusted her glasses. “You don’t seem very broken anymore.”
“I did a lot of healing, especially in the first few years when I lived in Blue Moon. And I found my strength. Henna, the woman who took me in, looked at me one day and said, You survived, but now it’s time to decide who you are. And that isn’t up to anyone but you.”
“A powerful statement.”
“It was. I learned how to stand up for myself. And I realized that I’d never been weak. I’d survived because I had strength inside me.”
Highball Rush: Bootleg Springs Book 6 Page 15
