Della wasn’t sure how they’d found themselves here, but it was official—this was the most bizarre conversation she’d ever had with an adult male. And she could have run with it if she wasn’t convinced that Tucker was trying to deliberately drag the conversation off track from her original question.

Screw that. “Tucker Daniels, are you stalling?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Quit it.”

“Della… You know there’s this thing called the internet that you can find out a whole heap of information on, right?”

“And what do you think might come up if I google ‘what does mermaid mean on Tinder’?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” His fingers unwrapped, then wrapped around the steering wheel. “Don’t do that.”

She nodded in satisfaction and waited for him to continue. He did not. “Tucker.”

“Fine.” He huffed and did the wrapping/unwrapping thing again. “A mermaid is a woman who is fine with…stuff above the waist but not…below.”

Della frowned. That was it? “So…she only wants to go to second base?” Della had suspected it was something very unflattering to do with fish.

“Yes. Exactly.” He nodded vigorously, his face a picture of relief, like he’d been petrified she was going to ask him to draw a freaking diagram or something.

It was kinda cute how much this stuff made him squirm, and she laughed despite her irritation. “You’re really not comfortable with this, are you?”

“Talking about bases with my friend’s little sister? I’d rather set fire to the bar.”

Della suppressed the urge to scream. Little sister? She’d been twenty-two when she came to Credence, and she was twenty-five now. She’d never been Arlo’s little sister.

“I’m an adult, Tucker. I may be lacking in areas of knowledge a lot of women my age aren’t, but I’m not going to blush, stammer, or…faint if you tell me something a little risqué. You’re supposed to be my wingman, for God’s sake.”

“Right.” He nodded. “You make a good point, and I’ll take it on board, but oh…look…we’ve arrived now, so let’s change the topic.”

Tucker turned left, and Della glanced out the windshield. She’d been driven past here many times on the way to the lake but hadn’t ever really paid it much attention. The estate was dominated by deserted concrete shells that had once housed businesses. They’d been abandoned one by one twenty years ago as the town experienced a series of downturns.

There was a general air of decay. Peeling paint, broken windows, pockmarked exteriors. Even the graffiti was faded. Aged burnout tracks stained streets that nature had taken back. Weeds thrived in the cracks of the road and the sidewalks and even the walls of buildings.

Della half expected to see a tumbleweed rolling along.