The moonshine slides down my throat with a harsh burn. A familiar-enough sensation and yet it never really softens. I pass the glass back to her.

“I was so worried about you, and now I’m not. You know why? You’ve always had a way of pulling into yourself, hiding from everything. I kept thinkin’ it would get better over time, but it never did. Then when you got kicked outta the dorm and tried to come home, that’s when I knew I had to take drastic measures. I had to put you out there, Tootsie Roll. You were scared you would fall, when I’ve always known you would fly. And see? I was right.”

I sniff. “But I’m not flying. I’m falling. Crashing. None of this is better.”

“Why did you run away when I had the shotgun the other week?” she asks abruptly.

“Uh, because you threatened to shoot me.”

“And?”

“And . . . I was scared.”

“What was the difference today? Were you not scared anymore?”

“No, I was still scared.”

“But you did it anyway. With the fear. And things worked out fine. Life’s like that sometimes. We’re all scared. Be afraid. Then do it anyway. And Reese, baby, that’s what you’ve been doing.”

Her words hit me right in the gut. “Wow.”

This might actually be the most profound thing I’ve ever heard Granny say, and she says a lot of stuff.

“That’s right.” She nods. “Sometimes you gotta take the skittles with the beer.”

Aaand she’s back.

A chuckle bubbles out of me. “That makes no sense, Granny.”

“It does if you hate Skittles.”

“Or beer.” I smile.

She frowns. “No one hates beer.”

I laugh so hard it brings tears to my eyes.

My laughter subsides and we’re quiet again, waiting for the jackrabbits and passing the moonshine back and forth.

“Forget about this boy. If he doesn’t see you for the prize you are, then he’s as useless as a fart in a fan factory.”

“Maybe it’s the moonshine talking, but I think you’re a genius.”

23

Stand for something or you will fall for anything. Today’s mighty oak is yesterday’s nut that held its ground.

—Rosa Parks

Fitz

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Fitz! Will you bring me some water? My throat is so dry.”

Only a day has passed since I last saw Reese. Or spoke with her. But it’s been a long day. A lifetime. I’ve called multiple times, but her phone always goes to voice mail. I tried texting too, but no response. I even tried to enlist Annabel to track her down, but she didn’t see Reese at Jude’s.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Fitz!”

It’s been a looong day.

Her momma gave her a bell to use to call for one of us if she needs something. I hid it away an hour ago and now she’s resorted to banging on the walls.

Every time I try to talk to Abby about the accident, and what Reese said, she avoids the conversation. First, she had a headache and couldn’t talk. Then she had a coughing fit and needed water and couldn’t speak for an hour. Then the last time I tried when her parents were out of the room, she faked sleep.