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I looked at Mason. “Do you have emergency cash?”

“Yes.” He shrugged. “Mostly.”

“How much is mostly?” I asked.

He hesitated.

Trevor smiled with satisfaction.

A muscle jumped in Mason’s jaw. “Enough if he pays me.”

“Where exactly are the two of you going on this supposed road trip?” I asked.

“Blue Ridge. Her cousin has a cabin there, and we’re spending three nights there.”

“Does your mother know?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Does the girl’s alpha know?”

“Yes.”

“When was your last oil change?”

Mason’s confidence wavered.

I pulled out my wallet.

Trevor immediately objected. “Hudson, you don’t need to⁠—”

I handed Mason twenty dollars. “Take this. Have somebody in the pack check your oil and your tire pressure before you leave.”

Mason accepted it, looking relieved but slightly embarrassed. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”

“No. Trevor will.”

Trevor nodded quickly. “As soon as the funds clear.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want your money.” I pointed toward the plastic frog on his shirt. “You’re going to make me a key chain.”

He went from defensive debtor to hyper-focused entrepreneur in a single heartbeat. “Seriously? What kind do you want?”

“Dealer’s choice.”

He glanced at Mason, then back at me. “I’ve been working on layered acrylic ones. I can put dried flowers inside, or foil, or tiny gears. The gears won’t move, but they look mechanical.”

I thought about it for a few seconds. “Tiny gears.”

Trevor grinned. It wasn’t the polished smile he usually used when defending his latest venture. This one reached his eyes and made him look younger than seventeen. “I’ll make it tonight.”

Mason folded the twenty into his pocket. “Can you still make mine?”

Trevor turned toward him. “You said key chains were a waste of time.”

“I said the one shaped like a toilet was a waste of time.”

“It sold within nine minutes of me listing it,” Trevor said.