“Where’s Kimbra?” Luke asked. “She said she had something for me.”

“Down here. She’s waiting.” Joel gestured to the stairs.

“Where’s her car?” Luke squinted at him. “Where’s your car?”

He wasn’t an idiot, then. Joel smiled. “Where were you on Friday night, Luke?”

The boy froze. “What are you talking about?”

“You weren’t at home—I know that much. Your mother lied to the police—I know that too—but it’s not surprising, is it? Big shots like your family, of course their son’s going to get out of trouble.”

“How the fuck—”

Joel stepped forward. “Did you ever forgive Dylan for stealing your girl?”

“Bethany didn’t give him a choice.”

“How underwater is your family right now? Your parents own half the town, sure, but what’s to own? Everything’s closing. That big new subdevelopment’s empty.”

Luke narrowed his eyes.

“How bad does your family need the football program to keep going strong? Get new families moving in and sending their kids to Bentley High, buying houses, opening stores? How bad would it hurt y’all if my brother decided he hated football after all?”

“Dylan would never quit.” Luke almost laughed. “He needed the attention too much.”

“And what if he wasn’t who this town thought he was?”

Bull’s-eye. Luke all but recoiled from the question.

“Who told you that?”

Joel’s rage mounted.

“Who sent you the ad, Luke?” Joel was frightened by the calm in his own voice. A voice that no longer felt entirely his own. “Who told you the golden boy wasn’t very golden?”

“You watch too much TV, man.”

Liar! his intuition shouted.

“Whoever it is,” he’d promised his mother. “Whatever it takes.”

“I’m going to ask you one more time.” Joel took two long steps forward, bringing the boy within arm’s reach. “Where did you go after the game on Friday?”

“Fuck you, man.” Luke seemed to briefly consider throwing a punch at Joel with one of those big arms—Just try, the animal inside Joel pleaded, just fucking try—but instead the boy only turned away with a shake of his head. “I wasn’t hurting anybody.”

The moment Luke’s back was turned Joel’s vision went black. He felt the rage and the horror and the shame—the shame, always and forever the shame—tighten his heart. And Joel didn’t want to fight it any longer. He let his mind slip free and let the darkness take control and bent down to grab the blade on his ankle and all he could hear was endthis—the blood in his ears whispering pleading demanding—endhimendyouendthis.

He had forgotten to undo the safety strap holding the knife in its sheath. He fumbled with it for a moment, just long enough for Luke to take a step away.

The strap popped free. Joel took hold of the knife’s handle.

And then the back window of the truck lowered and a young boy shouted, “Luke!” and Joel shot to his feet empty-handed and felt his brain stutter and crash and refuse to start up again.

Luke was a brother too. How had he forgotten? Luke was an older brother, just like him.