Page 226 of Heart So Hollow

Leland Wiltshire’s farm backs up to Hellbranch Creek on the west side of the Wyandot Nature Preserve, hidden behind a grove of pines where you can park an entire convoy of cars without drawing the wrong kind of attention.

Whether you go north or south around the preserve, you’ll hit Grisham Road, which slices the forest in half. At the intersection, there’s an abandoned motorcycle shop decaying into the cracked asphalt, threatening to get swallowed up by honeysuckle. The sign outside used to say Grumpy’s, but now it’s just a rotting, faded slab of wood. Whenever I come to Canaan to race, we always meet at Leland’s.

By the time I park my black Civic behind the grove of pines next to the Wiltshire’s pole building, the clearing is already filled with cars and people milling around. I round the front of the car, meeting Evie on the other side as she grabs her backpack out of the backseat.

“Are you riding with Hildy to Grump’s?”

I don’t need to ask. I assume as much since she’s staying the night at Hildy’s. Evie usually rides with me wherever we go, but I won’t let her race with me.

“No…” Evie gives a little smile before quickly glancing over her shoulder.

Bowen’s leaning against the hood of his car at the opposite end of the pole building, talking to Jay while he smokes a cigarette.

“No,” I give a curt shake of my head, “no fucking way you’re getting in that car with him.”

I know exactly what he said to her, because I’ve said the same thing before strapping some girl into my car so I can get off on her screams when I slingshot around a blind curve into a straightaway and hit 90 all the way to the bridge at the creek.

Be my shotgun, then I’ll be yours later…

Some dumb shit like that. And it works like a charm. Every…single…time.

Evie knits her brow in confusion, “Why not?”

“Because he’s racing me and I know how he’s going to drive trying to beat me.”

She lets out an exasperated groan, “Come on, Col, don’t do this…”

“Don’t do what?”

“Girls ride with you all the time!” she exclaims. “Besides, Bo’s not some rando asshole. He’s my friend.”

“Bullshit, he’s your friend!” I hiss, towering over her.

Friend…I don’t know whether to laugh or punch someone. The thought of Bowen Garrison watching a romcom with Evie or listening to her fret about Carly Buchignani, who plays for St. Iggy, looks like a linebacker, and throws the fastest pitches in the state, sounds ridiculous. Has he even been to one of her games?

He would only do that kind of shit if…

“I don’t need your permission,” she states with conviction, “I’m riding with Bo.”

“The fuck you are,” I invade her space even more.

When I glance over the roof of the car, I realize Bowen is watching us intently. He tips his chin up, peering at me as he sucks on his cigarette. The louder my voice gets, the more it draws him in like a moth to a flame. The last thing I need right now is him wandering over here to see what’s going on.

I let out an irritated groan. Since when does Evie describe Bowen as her friend? Hannah is her friend, Hildy is her best friend, and Bowen is neither.

Then it dawns on me. Maybe this is what he’s been doing since last fall…

“He’s not bad, Col,” Evie softens her voice, “why do you hate him so much?”

I tighten my jaw, “Because I know him, Evie. And you should, too, by now. I know the kind of shit he does and who he does it with.”

She narrows her eyes, but there’s hint of disappointment in them, “And there’s no possible way he could be interested in someone like me.”

Shit…

“Don’t you fucking do that, Evie,” I grit my teeth, “you know exactly what I mean. He does what he wants, when he wants, and doesn’t care who gets in his way.”

“Like you?” she glares back at me.

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