Deep Wood

Jack, ever the conscientious objector, had no talent for, or interest in, learning to fight. The day a robin broke its neck crashing into the cabin’s screen door, it was Jack who’d insisted we give it a proper burial. When my dad first introduced us to catch-and-release fishing, Jack took one look at the blood on the fish’s mouth and refused to touch the rod.

It’s amazing the two of us got along, considering what opposites we were. But somehow it all worked out. Where I was stubborn, Jack was forgiving. If I was the muscle, Jack was the heart.

A figure darts across the road—a dark-haired boy in board shorts, thin as a beanpole, and pale as snow.

Jack...

I slam on the brakes.

The seatbelt cuts into my chest as I lurch, swerving in time to miss the sign for farm-fresh summer squash, but not soon enough to avoid spiraling partway into the bar ditch on the side of the road.

“What the fuck,” I mutter, my heartbeat galloping like a prize-winning Clydesdale. My truck’s dash lights up, dinging a with all kinds of notifications informing me that some crazy shit has gone down.

Yeah, no fucking kidding.

I switch off the engine, unhook my seatbelt and climb out of the truck.

The Tennessee heat wraps around me like a damp beach towel as I survey the road. I squint into the trees, lit up by my headlights, searching for the kid who almost got me killed.

“Hey,” I call out. “That stunt you pulled was really fucking stupid. You could’ve killed us both.”

I get no answer.

Sweat drips down my back as I scrub my eyes, replaying the image of the boy sprinting across the road. Obviously, it wasn’t Jack. But for some reason, my mind keeps inserting him into the memory. It’s got to be the cocktail of guilt and rocket fuel making me see and hear things that aren’t there. Not to mention the very real memories of all the summers Jack and I spent out here as a kid.

And who could forget the green-eyed girl from the store, with the uncanny knack for dredging up things I don’t want to remember?

I head back toward my truck, now pointing in the direction I just came from, and climb inside. As I restart the engine, I hear another soft voice at my ear.

Would Jack have driven away?

I know the answer before the question even registers.

If Jack had been in my place tonight, he wouldn’t have looked at the girl beneath the “$1.99 Hot Dogs All Day Long” sign and seen her as a burden. He’d have seen her as an innocent creature in need of help.

I growl, smacking the steering wheel with both hands in surrender.

“She’d better be fucking worth it, buddy.”

I peel out of the ditch—grateful for four-wheel drive—and reach the store in under a minute. The girl jumps to her feet as I pull up to the steps, her stance defensive.

“Get in,” I tell her.

She eyes me warily. “Why?”

“Because it’s dark out.” I reach across the passenger’s seat and open the door for her. “Come on. I haven’t got all night.”

She slips her shoes on and grabs her backpack, leaving her socks behind. I force myself to stare straight ahead as she settles in beside me.

“Thanks for coming back,” she says.

“I didn’t do it for you.” I pull onto the road and drive off into the night, praying I don’t eventually come to regret this.

Chapter Three

Norah

As soon as I slip inside the truck, I start to work my magic.