“You know Luke Skeet?” she asked him the question, but was staring at me. “How does a lowlife like you know a rock star super god?”

Elijah whistled through his teeth. “‘Lowlife’? What has your cousin been saying about me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Eli. Fine.” Starting down the stairs, she slowed as she went past me. She pointed to me as she said to him, “You have some cred now. You know Luke Skeet.” She shook her head and said to me, “I’d stay away from him if I were you. Apparently, he stopped selling drugs, but I don’t believe it.” She raised her voice. “He wouldn’t be the first douche who lied.”

Elijah propped a shoulder against his doorframe and sipped his coffee. “You might want to poke your nose where it can do good. Pretty Boy here already hates my guts. He’s hated my guts for about twenty-two years now.”

“Give or take,” I added.

“Whatever, Eli, whatever.” The girl rolled her eyes at him, but sent me a smile full of promises.

“Hannah!” the girl from the car yelled. “Get over here. We have to go.”

Elijah chuckled. “Your cousin is in a snit. She spent the night. She’s emotionally traumatized now, all that holding and cuddling.” He pretended to grimace. “All those things that fill up nightmares.”

Hannah gave him the middle finger as she hurried to the car. As they took off, Elijah let out a small sigh and muttered, half to himself and half to me, “What is it with me and emotionally unavailable women?”

I stepped up onto the patio. As he led the way back inside and to the kitchen, I followed and suggested, “You do have a screwed-up mother. That might be part of it.”

“Maybe.” He grunted and went to the coffee pot. “You want some?”

I was still feeling it from the two hours of sleep I got. “Yes, unless you’re going to slip something in it.”

Elijah shook his head. “You know me. I’ve been biding my time until I got you alone. Now, I can have my way with you, even if I am straight.”

“I was referring to alcohol, but if you want to go that route, I’ve been reading your signals wrong for years now.”

He barked out a laugh and leaned back against the kitchen counter. I leaned against the opposite doorframe, and we both eyed each other over our cups.

With the coffee and the slight jokes, we’d both been stalling. We couldn’t anymore.

Elijah plunged first, “What are you doing here, Skeet? You don’t need to be concerned if this is about Bri. She hasn't really been a part of my life since you left.” She hasn't? Then he added more, “And I have stopped selling. Haven’t you heard?” He flashed me a grin, but it was empty. “My mom went and got herself pregnant a while ago. Who will support the kid after she screws up and loses custody?”

“So, you’re going to take care of him?”

He shrugged. “Gonna try. Whether they let me or not is another thing, but you didn’t come over to talk to me about my problems. You’re here because of Bri? She sent you?”

“No.” Why would she? “I’m here about Emerson.”

“Oh.” He scratched behind his ear. “What about him?”

“He’s still buying. I’m wondering if you’d help us to deal with him?”

He barked out another laugh, and his shoulders loosened. “Deal with him?” His green eyes narrowed. “How exactly?”

“Tell us how to stop him? We’re open to suggestions.”

He looked down at the floor and held his breath. He seemed to be thinking it over, but he looked back up. A resigned look was in his eyes. “You can’t. I know enough about this shit to know you can’t stop him until he hits rock bottom.”

Well. That wasn’t helpful. Glancing around, I didn’t see any of his stuff. I asked, “Is he here?” I began moving down the hallway to the room Emerson always used. “Still sleeping?”

“No,” he called after me. His body snapped to attention. “I mean.” He scratched behind his ear. “Don’t go down there. He was an ass last night. I’d steer clear until he’s in a better mood.”

I stared at him. Hard.

Eli didn’t look away. There was no flicker of hesitation or question in his eyes. He didn’t move at all, holding my gaze the whole time.

He was lying.

I’d grown up with Elijah Turner. Not many knew when he was holding something back, but I did. I had studied him all my life. That’s what I did when he had the girl I loved. And I knew he was bluffing. I wondered if Elijah had even seen Emerson last night.

When I got into the truck, I called Braden. “We have a problem.”

I wanted the guys to meet at The Shack, but Braden mentioned it’d be better if we met somewhere Peter and Priss wouldn’t know about. My old house it was. Pulling into my driveway, I looked at my house—my dad’s house—and heaved a breath. Getting out of the truck, I could tell it’d been freshly painted. The last step had been fixed. The crack was gone from the middle of it. Heading up to the back door, I noticed the knob was secured back into place. Skimming an eye at Braden’s house, I saw the curtain from Bri’s old room had fallen back into place. A second later, her light switched off, and the knot was back in my gut. I had started calling the damn thing the Bri knot.

“What am I going to do with you?” I muttered under my breath. I wasn’t sure whom I meant, the knot or the girl.

“Yo.” Braden had come out of their back door and jumped over their patio steps. Landing smoothly on his feet, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders over, darting over to me. “Did you stay at The Shack last night? Bri said you never came back here.”

Of course, she would’ve known.

Had she been watching for me the whole night? I grimaced. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “I had to air out the place, didn’t figure on driving back. It was too late.” After I unlocked the door, we filtered inside. Shit. I stopped abruptly. The air was heavy, and there was an undercurrent of stale booze. I could smell it all. Tears, blood, screams, crying, my dad’s cursing. Even now, I flinched because I could imagine the scrape of his boot when he stood from the couch. I never knew if he would head to my room and decide to beat me or if he would leave me alone. Fuck. That fear was still there; it had a death grip on me.