Page 45

As the V-8 rumbled into town, I exhaled and rolled my shoulders. “Pay attention to every detail, and if anything feels off, say oleander.”

Ava didn’t move, her attention still on the road. “Why oleander?”

“The flower looks harmless, but it’s not.”

“Are you a gardener?” she asked.

“My mum was.”

I caught myself too late. The first time I’d referred to her in the past tense, and I didn’t even know for sure if she was gone yet.

Ava’s eyes shifted to mine, filled with softness and understanding. It didn’t last long, not with the incoming cars and what we were about to encounter, but it was enough.

The first car came into view at the far end of the street, a dark sedan cruising past the wreck we’d left behind.

A second vehicle, smaller and silver, appeared in the opposite direction, creeping along as if the driver was unsure whether to approach or turn.

The V-8 slowed as it reached us, then stopped right where we stood, its engine idling.

Ava shifted her stance and murmured, “Dammit.”

The passenger window slid down with a whir, and a surfer-type guy rested his arm on the frame, the breeze ruffling his messy blonde hair. “Morning.” He smiled. “You guys need a hand?”

The dark-haired driver leaned forward and looked at us past his friend, his features neutral. No one occupied the back seat.

“Thanks, but we’re good,” I said.

Ava didn’t move, and Kirby stayed silent. So far, so good. The second she looked ready to work off some of her anger from Jeremy, we were in trouble.

“Fair enough.” The blonde guy nodded slowly. “Is that your car back there? Looks like a broken ball joint.”

“We saw that too,” Ava said, “but it’s not ours. We’re local.”

The condition of our clothes and the smell wafting off us directly contradicted her claim, but if the guy questioned it, he chose not to comment.

The car in the opposite direction stopped, then a beat later, the driver thought better of coming closer and turned down a side street.

Silence stretched on, long enough to feel uncomfortable, then the blonde guy nodded at the nail gun. “Does that thing actually work?”

“Depends how close you get,” she said with a quick smile.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Good to know.”

The driver leaned forward again, peering around his friend. “Sure you don’t want a lift somewhere? We’ve got space.”

Kirby shifted on her feet, lifting her axe into a two-handed grip. “Thanks, but like she said, we live close by.”

A few seconds passed before he flashed a smile. “All right, then. Stay safe.”

“You too,” I said.

The tinted window slid up, the car idling for a beat longer. I waited, breaths slow and controlled.

When it finally rolled forward and picked up speed, Kirby’s shoulders sagged. “That was tense.”

Ava scanned the street, the windows, searching for movement. “They were nice enough, but still.”

It didn’t matter if people came across as decent, friendly, or the most helpful people in the world.