There was no warning that they were coming. No sirens. Just the flashing of blue-and-red lights.

“Tommy,” Josh said, almost as a whisper.

Why would he be thinking about Tommy?

He turned his back on the cop car, just as their doors opened and two uniformed officers stepped out. “Hunter, man, I can’t lose him.” He pulled out the bag of weed from his pocket, his hand shaking as he did. Eyes wide, he turned his head slowly from side to side. I’d only ever seen him like this once before—the day he’d realized Natalie was gone. He was scared shitless.

I could see there was no time to throw the bag in the bushes or even put out the lit joint I was holding. Without thinking, I took the bag from his hand.

Even though it all happened in a matter of a few seconds, it felt like an eternity. The joint between my fingers was pure fire in my hands. I dropped the bag onto my lap, just as a flashlight shone in my eyes, blinding me. “Hunter,” the cop asked, “is that you?”

And that was when I knew it was over. My future. Whichever road I travelled—I was done. Basketball. My dad. All of it.

“Thanks, baby.” Chloe’s soft voice broke through the silence. She picked up the bag from my lap and took the joint from my fingers. Then proceeded to smoke it.

“What the hell are you doing?” I tried to whisper, but I’m sure it came out louder than I’d wanted.

“Whose marijuana?” the cop asked, now shining the flashlight at her.

“Mine. Obviously.” She took another drag. “He was just holding it for me.”

“I call bullshit,” the second cop said.

“Yeah?” She jumped off the hood, letting go of my hand as she did. “Clayton Wells is my foster brother. You can call bullshit all you want, or you can call him and ask him where I got this weed from.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Blake

A cab had picked us up from the half-court and dropped Josh at his house before taking me home. Josh hadn’t said a word after the cops took Chloe away. I knew he felt guilty and that it was all his fault. I hadn’t even thought twice about taking the fall for him. He was my best friend, and had a shit ton more to lose than I did. Chloe, though—she hadn’t needed to do any of it. In the grand scheme of things, we were nothing to her. Like she’d said, she’d known me a week.

I’d gotten in my car and driven to the station. I’d panicked when they’d started asking questions about my relationship with her. I didn’t know shit. I didn’t even know how old she was. So I’d done the only thing I could think of: I’d called that seedy place she had taken me to a week ago and asked for Clayton. He’d shown up fifteen minutes later. That was seven hours ago. Seven hours with nothing more than a single nod of acknowledgment when he’d walked in. He’d spoken to the cops about her and then had taken a seat opposite me—his long legs kicked out in front of him. A few officers had greeted him by name, and I wondered how they knew him.

His loud sigh cut through the silence. My head jerked up. Slowly, he stood up and walked over to me. I didn’t know what it was about him that was intimidating. I was short for a baller but tall among average people. He stood over me and glared down. “Who are you to her?” His words weren’t laced with anger or confusion—it was just a question. I noticed he still looked as tired as the first time I’d seen him.

I didn’t respond.

He sighed again and took the seat next to mine. “Are you seeing her? I mean, are you her boyfriend?”

“No.”

“You want to be?”

I stared straight ahead. “I have a girlfriend.” Though Hannah wasn’t really relevant, I didn’t know what else to say.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me. Where was she last night?”

I shrugged.

“I don’t really think it’s appropriate—”

I turned to face him, cutting him off. “Are you okay with her and The Road?”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I dunno,” I spat out. I didn’t need him telling me what was appropriate and what wasn’t. “Just kind of makes you look like an asshole if you’re letting her get in her piece-of-shit car on an endless fucking road trip. You can tell me what’s appropriate all you like, but you know her better than I do. I’m sure you might even care about her more than I do. Just seems like a dick move, is all.”

He laughed. It was loud enough that the cop at the front desk stopped what he was doing and looked up at us. Once Clayton had settled down, he leaned back in his seat and drawled, “I like you, kid.”

I fucking hated being called kid.

“But here’s the thing you may not know about Chloe . . . yet. She does what she wants. She lives her life the way she wants, and nothing and no one can stop her.” He paused for a beat. “You guys go to the same school, right?”

I nodded, my eyes fixed on the floor.

“When did you start noticing her?”

My body went rigid, and my breath caught.

He must’ve sensed it, because he laughed again. “I thought so.”

“Thought what?”

“Chloe—she likes to remain invisible. The fact that she’s hanging out with you—or whatever it is you guys are doing—it means something. But just don’t fall in love with her.”

My eyes snapped to his. “Whoa. Who said anything about love?”