I did save his life. I know that. I saved us both.

If Julio found out I did anything like this, he’d kill me. Heroics bring attention. Attention brings scrutiny.

And scrutiny exposes secrets.

Two

The night did not go as Arden had reckoned it would. It was meant to be simple—relieve Uncle Cletus of his keys and hopefully scare him into never driving drunk again. An noncomplicated hoax turned into a catastrophe. Arden sifts through the reasons why.

Reason Number One: He didn’t expect the girl behind the counter to be so ballsy. She pulled a freaking gun on me. Who does that? Isn’t it in the employee manual to be submissive to gun-wielding robbers and be done with it? But no. This girl—what is her name, Carla or Carol or something—this girl pulled out a shotgun and gave him ultimatums. Maybe he should have watched her more closely in class before planning something like this. But everything she’d shown him screamed shy, insecure, unambitious. She wore a plain T-shirt and jeans every day. Never raised her hand in class, never spoke to anyone. No makeup, as far as Arden could tell. Shifted quietly between classes in a please-don’t-notice-me sort of way. If he hadn’t actually been scoping her out for this specific plan, he wouldn’t have known she existed. Heck, she had three classes with him and he never even knew it before last Tuesday.

At best, he expected her to duck behind the front counter and let him rob his own uncle in peace. Maybe call the cops too, but he’d made sure Deputy Glass—the more competent deputy on duty—was busy with an anonymous intruder call at an abandoned house on the outskirts of town. That way, with a little efficiency, he could scare the bejesus out of Uncle Cletus without getting caught.

Not that Arden cared much about getting caught. His dad wouldn’t allow the charges to stick anyway. Especially given the reasons behind it. Or maybe he would. Maybe this would be the last straw for his old man. Maybe this would be the one thing that his father wouldn’t tolerate.

Reason Number Two: Arden’s pretty sure he’s stolen Carla/Carol’s bicycle. It’s a girl’s mountain bike, nothing fancy, and it was parked near the entrance to the Breeze Mart. He would have made a run for it, but he was afraid she’d actually attempt to shoot at him as he made his way back to his truck parked about half a mile down the road. The bike was necessary for his mobility. For life and limb, even, because who knows what that crazy girl would do next? It didn’t seem like she knew, either. Watching her thought process was fascinating. And frustrating, when he realized she didn’t have any intention of backing down. He’d spent—wasted—all that time contriving a plan that ultimately failed.

With a scowl on his face, Arden skids to a halt in front of his red Ford truck. Gently, he lifts the girl’s bike into the back of it, carefully laying it down so as not to scratch it. It’s bad enough that he took it. It’s probably her ride home for the night. He’s hoping her parents will pick her up. And if not, Glass works Monday night patrol. He’ll be the first of the two deputies to respond to the robbery—even with his counterfeit intruder call. That is, if that girl has the sense to call the cops. If she does, Glass will give her a ride home if she needs it.

Arden puts his truck into gear, steering off the dirt shoulder and onto the road. For once in his life, he buckles up and drives under the speed limit. He doesn’t need to get pulled over tonight. Not when he’s still wearing the robber’s outfit and has the clerk’s bike in his truck bed. Not when his curiosity has been piqued by this Carla chick. She has balls, that’s for sure. But she doesn’t seem to wear them when she’s at school. Why is that?

Reason Number Three: Why did Uncle Cletus act like a dead body as soon as a gun was pulled? What happened to the sturdy old guy who used to tell him and his older sister, Amber, all those horrific war stories? About how he was a Vietnam prisoner of war and lived on one cup of rice a day, took regular beatings, and then ran this county as sheriff as soon as he returned from overseas. Seems like the toughest sheriff in the county’s history would have reacted differently. Arden had been ready for an entertaining scuffle, but his uncle just dropped the bottle of vodka and retreated against the truck. Might have even pissed himself.

So much for alcohol being liquid courage.

Arden runs a nervous hand through his hair. Maybe his mom is right. Maybe Uncle Cletus has drunk himself into near death. Which is troubling. His uncle is the closest thing to a real father he’s ever had. The only person he could ever really talk to.

Of course, if he was that close to me, I would have checked on him a lot sooner than this. Have I become so consumed with making Dad miserable that I’ve let Uncle Cletus suffer on his own?

Yes, he has. He knows it. Giving the new sheriff in town hell—the esteemed Sheriff Dwayne Moss—has been Arden’s only objective for the past year. He was willing to give up the football team, the baseball team, his potential scholarship opportunities. All the things he knew his dad would want for him to continue after Amber’s death. But the one thing he’d wanted to keep was his relationship with Uncle Cletus.

Arden tries to remember the last time he visited the old man and can’t. And now he’s just given him a heart attack with his botched-up convenience store prank. Shaved years off his uncle’s life in a matter of seconds. If he even has years left.

From the looks of him, Uncle Cletus has been knocking on death’s door and patiently waiting for it to answer. I’ve got to go visit that old guy, Arden thinks to himself as he pulls into his driveway.