When he checks his phone, I’m thinking we’re on borrowed time. He finally says, “What would you have me do that doesn’t fuck up my relationship with Mia?”

“If it’s that volatile, it’s already fucked up. But maybe . . .” Last resort. Here goes. “My cousin traded it for drugs. I’ll trade you cash. What’s it worth to you?”

“Priceless if it keeps the peace with Mia.”

“Don’t do this, Dane. You know what’s right in this scenario. Lark loses if you choose wrong. I’ll give you five thousand dollars.”

“Fuck,” he says, laughing and waving his arms in front of him. “Just like that, huh? Wish I’d been born a Pointe kid. You know your cousin threw money around like it was endless and then his daddy cut him off.”

Wait . . . I never heard this. “How would you know?”

“He and Ronnie hit a few houses back in the day when they needed a fix.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Ask Ronnie. He’s doin’ time down in county.”

I can’t wrap my head around how bad it got for Lucas. Each new detail is a part of his life that I’m unfamiliar with when I thought I knew everything about him. The deeper I get into Lucas’s history, the more I wish I didn’t know.

“You didn’t know they hit Lark’s house? You didn’t piece that together back then?”

“I was almost in as deep, dude. I wasn’t investigating anything. He came to me and traded some goods I’d just gotten. Mia found it in a shoebox while clearing out the closet to put the crib.”

“How did she know it was real?”

He shrugs, tucking the cigarette in his back pocket. “Girls know diamonds, I guess. Look, I need to go.”

“You won’t take the money?”

“It pains me because I could really use it, but we’ll get by.” He eyes me up and down, and then adds, “I get that you want to be the hero in Lark’s story, but I can’t rock the boat with Mia, especially when she’s pregnant.” He holds out his hand, and I know what it took for him to offer it to me, so I take it, and we shake again. “Sorry, man.” His eyes dart behind me, and he says, “Sweet ride.”

“No fucking way.”

“Not even for Lark,” he asks, fucking hopeful to make the trade.

“She’d never want me to do that.”

“What do you want?”

Shaking my head, I reply, “It’s in my parents’ name. I just make the payments.”

“Must be nice,” he sings with a swagger to his step. “Must be nice.”

Given one more minute, I would have been handing over the keys. But I know a car doesn’t trade as easily as drugs do. Fuck, I was close. Lark would kill me, and I quite like seeing her every day.

He opens the door and looks back. His good mood is gone, replaced by the side I imagine Lark knows. “You’re going to make sure she gets out of Beacon, right? You’re her best chance.”