Page 181 of Five Mountain Daddies

“He’s not a kid. He’s a police detective. And you do needprotection.”

She grumbles again, finishing her cigarette. She stubs it out, grabs her pack, and lightsanother.

“Say I went,” she says finally. “How would that work? You know I can’t affordit.”

“I’ll help out,” I say. “I can pay forit.”

“Can you affordit?”

I nod. “I can make itwork.”

She watches me silently for a long minute. “Why are you doing allthis?”

“What do youmean?”

“Your brother… he wasn’t good. You knowthat?”

I sit back, surprised. “What?”

“He was rotten.” She says the words like they burn her tongue. “I’ve known it for a while. Rotten down to thecore.”

“He was my brother,” I saysoftly.

“He did awful things. Stole from us, said terriblethings.”

“Still,” I say. “He wasfamily.”

“He was my son.” She stares at me hard. “I loved that boy with everything, but he was rotten. Why do you want to risk so much for him when he’sgone?”

I watch her quietly for a second. I can’t pretend like I haven’t wondered that myself. I don’t know why I’ve tried so hard to figure this out, when I don’t think he would have done the same for me. I think he would have gotten high and forgotten all about me if hecould.

But I’m not Atticus. And I’m not my mother. I can be better than they are. I can do somethingmore.

I can’t say that to her, though on some level I think she already understandsit.

“He’s my brother,” I say to her. “It’s what youdo.”

She’s silent and nods. I think she understands that I couldn’t say thetruth.

“I’ll go,” she saysfinally.

I let out a breath. “Thanks,Mom.”

“I’ll get my things. Meet you outfront.”

I watch as she shuffles from the kitchen. I feel relieved, but also somethingelse.

I’m afraid for her. She seems so worn down, so broken, and saying that about Atticus… I think that wears heavy on her, that she thinks it. She’s not wrong, but it must hurt a lot to think that about her ownchild.

She meets me out by the car, a bag dragging behind her. I load it into the trunk and we’re off, driving back to Wyatt and the motel. We get there not long later and she goes down to ask for a room as close to Wyatt’s aspossible.

Meanwhile, I head upstairs. I go to his room and knock, but there’s noanswer.

I knock again and wait. But nothing at all. I try calling, but don’t get ananswer.

I start to panic. I call again, and this time I can hear his phone ringing from inside the room, faintly but audible. I start to bang on hisdoor.

“Wyatt!” I yell. “Wyatt!”

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