Page 15 of What Lies in the Woods

“Don’t you read the paper? ‘That bastard’ died,” Cody said, hands jammed in his pockets and eyes fixed on me.

“Praise the Lord,” Marsha declared. “Congratulations. Or is that not what you say?”

“Under the circumstances, I think congratulations are in order,” Cody said, but I could only shake my head, the tiniest of movements. He looked at me steadily, and the genial expression I’d stitched to my face faltered. “Are you free? We could grab a drink, catch up. It’s been ages, and honestly, a drink with an old friend is exactly what I need right now.”

Old friend? It wasn’t how I’d have described it. He was twenty-two the summer he found me in the woods, twice my age, and he’d left town before I graduated high school. But maybe whatever we’d been to each other had turned into friendship in the gap, growing up with or without us.

I shrugged. “I don’t have any plans.” And being alone with my thoughts hadn’t treated me well so far today.

“Try not to sound so enthusiastic,” he said with a glint of amusement in his eye. “I promise, I’m much better company than I used to be.”

I chuckled obligingly, but I’d always liked Cody’s company, despite his indifference to us. Maybe because of it. I remembered slipping out behind the Greens’ house to where he was leaning against the fence, smoking. I’d leaned there next to him, and he’d offered me a drag of his cigarette and only laughed a little when it made me immediately start coughing.

I’d been a little in love with Cody Benham even before he saved my life, that day in the woods.

When I remembered anything about the time between the attack and the hospital, it was him—his face above me, the light and shadows flickering across his features as he ran. Most of all I remembered the feeling of his arms. The strength of them.

I finished paying. Cody had just come in for the newspaper, which he tucked under his arm before holding the door open for me. I counted my steps as I moved past him, pressing back firmly against the fear at the sensation of a body that close, behind me where I could sense him but not see him.

Outside I turned casually, like I just wanted to talk to him and not like I was going to have a panic attack if I let someone follow behind me. I walked backward, hand shading my eyes against the sunlight. “So what brings you back into town?”

“My dad’s been hassling me to come pick up the crib he built for the new baby. I had a meeting cancel at the last minute, so I thought I’d make the trip and spare myself any more nagging,” Cody said.

“New baby? I’m sorry, Cody Benham is adad?” I asked with exaggerated incredulity. “Who’d you dupe into procreating with you?”

He chuckled. “I keep waiting for Gabby to wise up and realize what a reprobate she married, but this is kid number three and it hasn’t happened yet, so I’m starting to think I may get away with it.”

Three kids? Jesus. Whenwasthe last time I’d seen Cody? Not since he left Chester, I realized. Fifteen years.

We crossed the street together. The convenient thing about Chester’s size was that Main Street—with the gas station, café, bar, and motel—consisted of two blocks. All I’d have to do was amble back to the other side of the road at the end of the night.

It was still early for even the regulars, which meant we could snag the good booth—the one that wasn’t under the speaker or the AC that blasted even in the dead of winter. I sat myself down with my back to the door, which wasn’t great for the raging PTSD but made it less likely anyone would recognize me from the street. The waitress was a twentysomething white girl who wore her hair in dreads and had a butterfly tattoo, no one I recognized or who recognized me, and the rest of the clientele were only interested in their own bottles.

Once the waitress was gone, the silence turned sludgy as pond scum. Fifteen years was a lot of time, and we hadn’t exactly had much in common to begin with, other than one very bad day. “So, Cody Benham. Where have you been hiding yourself?” I asked, before the quiet could get any thicker. “The circus? County lockup? Some internet start-up that sells artisanal mustache wax?”

He chuckled. “Believe it or not, the state legislature. I’m Representative Benham now.”

“Huh.” I adjusted my weight on the split vinyl seat, patched over with a geological age of duct tape, and propped my elbows on the sticky tabletop. I peered at him, trying to get “state legislator” out of that scruff. “So when did you get respectable?”

“Oh, it’s just an act,” he said jokingly. “Guess it finally occurred to me that I could stay here or I could do something with my life, but it couldn’t be both. So I took off. Got a degree. Met Gabriella.”

“That’s your wife?” I asked. He nodded.

“Her dad was a state senator, and talking to him, I realized I actually had some opinions to go along with my fancy degree. I ran and for some goddamn reason people voted for me, and here we are.”

“You make it sound like you had hardly anything to do with it,” I said. Miss Butterfly showed up with our drinks. The bar had started stocking some hipster-approved microbrews to suit the tourists, so I’d indulged in the snootiest-looking IPA on the chalkboard, in honor of Mitch. Cody stuck with a can of Rainier, the ancestors of which had littered the hangout spots of our youth.

“Gotta maintain my local credibility,” he said as he poured. “So how shocked are you that I’m all respectable now?”

“A little,” I conceded. “I wouldn’t think they’d let a guy who got into as much trouble as you did become a politician.”

“You know, weirdly, none of our hijinks ever led to official records,” Cody said, scratching his chin as if puzzled.

“If you’re going to do crime, do it with the mayor’s son?” I suggested. Nothing ever seemed to stick to Oscar. He was his father’s only son and heir, the town prince. Even Cass worshipped him. And whenever he did piss anyone off, he always managed to charm his way out of it—or his father stepped in.

“Well, I didn’t have your poker face, so I didn’t have the option of lying my way out,” he said.

“You’re not still mad that I cleaned you out, are you?” I asked, laughing.

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