Brecken is back at the table, reaching for Josh’s beer. His own glass sits empty beside him. Kayla watches him, but also steals quick glances at the door like she might bolt. Harper is literally crying in the bathroom, and Josh and I are skulking around the corner whispering. We’re quite a party.

“Are you okay with Brecken drinking your beer?” I ask Josh.

“It’s fine. I don’t like to drink.” Then he frowns. “Look, we have a problem.”

I laugh with zero humor behind it. “You mean aside from the hit-and-run, the missing items, the wrecked car, the snowstorm of historic proportions…”

Josh doesn’t smile or add anything to my list. “Harper called the police again, to check in since it had been so long.”

“And?”

“They’ve picked up the kid and his father and transported them to the hospital.”

“So, on a bright note, we don’t have a gun-toting gas station owner after us,” I say. Then I pull my lip between my teeth. “Is he going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. The cops want a report, but they are still cleaning up I-80, and they have no idea how long it will be.”

“We’ll have to wait.”

“Which could be fun,” he says sarcastically. “The bar is closing soon.”

“That’s right.” I reach for my pocket, then remember my phone is gone. I search the walls, finding an old-fashioned Budweiser wall clock above a row of whiskey bottles. The position of the hands knots my stomach in an instant. “We only have twenty minutes.”

“Right,” he says.

Joyce is behind the bar. She’s leaned over, washing glasses in the sinks as far as I can tell. Smitty has finished his drink, and maybe he wants to go home, but he was kind to us once.

So here goes nothing.

“Wait.” Josh’s hand lands on my arm after my first step. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to talk to them. If I explain the situation, maybe she’ll understand. Or maybe Smitty will convince her. I don’t know.”

“You can try, but Harper started bawling at the bar. She wasn’t moved.”

I sigh. “Great. Okay, then we wait in the parking lot. If the engine is running, we’ll be warm.”

“Maybe we should find another open restaurant or something,” he says.

I shake my head. I am done driving with these people. “Everything has gone wrong since we’ve gotten into this car. I’d really rather stay here.”

Josh looks at me with an expression I can’t read and my neck goes hot. I duck my head.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure I must sound completely paranoid.”

“You don’t,” he says softly. “Everything has gone wrong.”