He slowly stands, turning toward his truck. He’s going to get something. I remember the sign in the service station, and my heart drops like a stone through still water. Kayla’s right. They probably have guns.

“Go back,” Harper weeps. “Go help him.”

“What is he doing?” Josh asks.

The truck door is open now. He’s looking for something. Under the seat.

“He’s getting a gun,” Kayla says. She is cold and certain. “I saw one behind the counter. Under the cigarettes.”

“Lots of people have guns,” Brecken says, but he sounds afraid. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t mean nothing,” Josh says. “He said he’d kill me. You heard him.”

“Guys,” I cry. “He’s coming out.”

The man is upright again and he isn’t heading for Corey. He’s turning to us. Is he holding something? My throat goes tight.

“What do we do?” Harper asks, gasping through her sobs. “What do we do?”

“Go,” Josh says calmly.

“We can’t go!” I shout. “It’s a hit-and-run!”

“No, we will stop,” Josh says. “We’ll stop and call a little way up the road. We can say we saw a gun. He threatened us.”

“Self-defense,” Kayla agrees. “It’s self-defense.”

“I didn’t see a gun,” Brecken cries, sounding tortured.

“Are you sure?” Josh asks. “Because he’s getting closer.”

“We can’t leave them,” I say, my voice small and lost, my eyes fixed on Corey. I think of his patchy facial hair. His lanky limbs. Is he even eighteen years old?

The father puts down the phone and takes another step toward us. The car goes silent. No one moves. No one breathes. Another step, and now there’s no missing it. He’s holding something metal and he’s coming our way. Harper’s sobs stop abruptly, her breath ragged.

“Brecken,” Josh says quietly.

“What’s happening?” Harper asks.

Brecken lets out a strangled sound and punches the gas. The car sails backward, fishtailing onto the road. The father raises his hand, and Brecken jerks the shifter into Drive. By some miracle, there is no spinning or slipping. The tires grip and we move. But I watch that man as we drive by. I watch him until a line of trees separates us and we can’t see him at all.

I hope it’s the last time I lay eyes on him.

Because if we see him again, I’m sure he’ll kill us.

Chapter Seventeen

Brecken stops half a mile down the road. He pushes open the door and vomits onto the pavement. None of us breathe a word. Harper wipes her eyes and checks her purse with shaking hands. The bandage on her finger has come loose and it’s oozing.

“Your finger,” I say.

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I need my phone. It’s on the charger.”