I take a measured breath, steeling myself for what may come tomorrow. If tonight taught me anything, it’s that what happened the night of the storm can never happen again. For my sake, but Waylon’s too. There’s just...too much fucking baggage between the both of us. It’s toxic. We’re toxic.

Once we’ve got Waylon hauled into the cab of the truck, laying on his side facing the front, I round the bed to hop in the passenger side.

Reggie turns the key, the engine rumbling angrily to life. I crane a look behind me to find Waylon’s already asleep. Just like that.

Something gives way in my chest when I take in the smooth planes of his face. The soft little puffs of hair breaching his lips. He looks so young right now. So small and fragile. It’s heartbreaking as much as it is a relief to see him finally have some semblance of peace.

Even if it’s only for a moment.

“Where are we taking him?” I ask as I turn to face forward, pulling on my seatbelt.

Reggie stares determinedly through the windshield as he pulls onto the road. “My place.”

I nod, knowing that’s for the best. There’s a good chance Waylon won’t remember a lot of this—if anything—but I’d like to think this is the push they needed to start mending their relationship.

Reggie chuckles warily, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What?” I ask suspiciously.

He sighs, flashes me a worried glance, before refocusing on the road. “It’s his house he grew up in. He hasn’t stepped a foot in there since he turned eighteen.”

I tense. “Where his dad—”

“Nearly beat him to death, yeah.”

A noise breaches my lips.

He hears me and cuts another quick look my way. He frowns. “You didn’t know?”

I’m shaking my head. Clearing my throat, I manage to ask, “When?”

He glances in the rear-view mirror. Waylon must still be asleep. I don’t look. I don’t know why I can’t look at him right now, but I can’t. I just...can’t.

“The night Shay killed that girl,” he says quietly. “He made a point to never drink and drive. He was a drunk and a horrible father, but he wasn’t stupid.”

“What happened?” I ask numbly.

His hands tighten around the wheel. “I don’t know what led up to it—I only know what the hospital reports said. As far as I know, Waylon won’t talk about that night, so I never got the full story. Based on his injuries, the doctors said Waylon put up a helluva fight. I don’t know what his dad said or did, what triggered it...but that night, Waylon fought back.”