“Mhm.”She dragged deep on her cigarette and blew the smoke sideways.“You just missed her—went to County to get Con’s things.”
Heat flashed under his skin.“By herself?”
“By herself,” Margie confirmed.
Even as fucked up as things were between them, the thought of Cassie standing there with that bastard Sheriff made Nash’s fists suddenly ache to slam something.
“Why’d you let her go alone?”he demanded, his tone harsher than he meant.
Margie’s rocker stilled.“We talkin’ about the same Cassie-Goddamn-Berry, ain’t we?The girl’d sooner bite your head off than let you lift her up a step?”
“Hell,” he muttered, dropping into the chair beside her, the boards creaking where the wood gave, soft from too many wet seasons.Pulling his flask from his cut, he tipped it back, the whiskey burning a path straight to his gut.
“Hell is right.And don’t be surprised when I snatch them keys and make ya walk home.”
Nash almost smiled, but it snagged in his chest.Margie always had a way of cutting through the bullshit much like a mother would.Truth was, he’d always taken to her more than his own mama, who’d been sour his whole life.The day she picked up and moved downstate had been a great goddamn day.
“You talk to her?”Nash eventually asked.
“’Course I talked to her—she’s stayin’ at my dang house, ain’t she.”
“’Bout Con,” he amended, with an eye roll.“’Bout doin’ somethin’ for him.”
Margie’s look was sharp.“Boy, she only just crawled outta bed.Can’t even hear his name without flinchin’.And you of all people should remember what she’s like when she’s cornered.”
Yeah, yeah, he knew.She’d stand as stubborn as a mountain, waiting for the rock to crack first.Once, though, he’d known how to cut past all that armor—peel her right down to skin…and then some.He knew the feel of her smooth flesh under his hands, the way she’d squirm when his tongue traced her freckles, the sound of her giggles spilling out, unguarded.
One look, and she’d drop every wall she had—just for him.
Nash scrubbed a hand down his face, shoving the thought away.
“Lord, help me,” Margie said, sighing, “you remember that time she run off?You and Mav found her down by the ol’ bridge.How long’d it take to get her out?”
“Long time,” he said, taking a swallow from his flask.That night hadn’t gone anywhere.It came back every time he thought of her.
Connor had come to Margie half out of his mind with worry, and within an hour the Kings were scattered across every creek bed and fence line.It was Maverick—with thirteen-year-old Nash in tow—who finally found her wedged under the trestle, barely a mile out of town.
Maverick crouched low in the dirt, his words coming warm and easy—that special kind of soothing calm only he could pull off: “Ain’t no shame in bein’ tired, baby girl.World gets heavy for us all.But you don’t carry it alone—not in my town.”
She hadn’t even looked their way until he promised to help Connor.Only after swearing on his mama did she crawl out—eyes rimmed red, teeth clenched and chattering, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.
Later, Maverick would tell Nash the whole story: the Berry kids were hanging on by threads.Connor working whatever odd job he could find, bills stacking high.And Cassie, with that twisted kid logic, thought disappearing would help.One less mouth to feed.
Margie flicked ash into a can.“She really thought runnin’ off was helpin’.That’s the part that always breaks my damn heart.”
Nash let out a dry sound, more breath than laugh.“Yeah?And who was she helpin’ last time she run off?”
Margie eyed him sideways.“Boy, do you really wanna open that door?Because I will remind you that you—
“All right—all right.Never mind.”Nash cut her off and turned his attention to the ridge.The porch settled into creaks and the low drone of cicadas, his mind sliding right back to that night…
Maverick puffing on a cigarette, Willie Nelson playing on the tape deck.Nash was wedged uncomfortably on the hump seat between his old man and Cassie, who sat stone-faced, shivering in her thin denim jacket.
Maverick caught his eye and jerked his chin toward Cassie.Give her your coat, he mouthed.
What?Nash mouthed back.Hell no, it’s cold.
Give her your goddamn coat, boy.
