CHAPTER 1

MAGGIE

This wasn’t home. Nothing ever would be again. And besides, I didn’t want a home—the word came with memories too painful to think about.

I knew my aunt Coralee and uncle Boone were watching me closely as they led me through the house. They wanted me to like it here—there was a certain hopefulness in their eyes. I didn’t remember what hope felt like. It had been so long since I’d hoped for anything.

“We gave you a room upstairs. I painted it a pretty cotton-candy blue,” Aunt Coralee informed me cautiously. “I remembered that you liked blue.”

It’s true that I had liked blue a few Christmases ago. Had even worn all blue one year. I wasn’t necessarily a fan of it now, though. . . .

I followed both my aunt and uncle up the stairs. The family photos lining the wall made me turn my head back around and stare straight ahead. I’d had those once too. Photos that my mother proudly displayed on the walls of our home. But those photos had been lies. The smiles were never real.

“Here it is,” Aunt Coralee announced as she stopped halfway down the hall and opened the door to a large bedroom. Other than the blue walls, everything else was white.

I liked it. If I weren’t afraid of my own voice, I’d tell her thank you. Instead I put down the backpack from my shoulders then turned and hugged her. That would have to be enough.

“Well, I certainly hope you like my room,” a deep voice drawled from the doorway.

“Brady, don’t,” Uncle Boone said in a stern voice.

“What? I was just being nice,” he replied. “Kinda . . .”

I only remembered my cousin Brady a little. He had never played with me at family events, was always running off with one of the buddies he’d brought with him.

Now he was leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, brown hair falling into his eyes, a smirk on his face. He didn’t seem happy. Oh God, had they given me his room? That couldn’t be good. I didn’t want to take his room.

“Brady’s just being a brat,” Aunt Coralee explained quickly. “He’s perfectly happy about moving to the attic room. He’s been at us for two years to fix up that space for him so he’d have somewhere more private.”

A large hand landed on my shoulder as Uncle Boone came to stand beside me. “Son, you remember Maggie,” he said in a voice that didn’t leave room for argument.

Brady was staring at me. He looked annoyed at first, but his expression suddenly softened into something resembling concern. “Yeah, I remember her.”

Uncle Boone continued, “You’ll need to show her around at school on Monday. Y’all are in the same grade, and we made sure they put her in several of your classes so you could help her out.” I had a feeling Brady already knew all this. The information was for me.

Brady sighed and shook his head. “Y’all don’t even know,” he muttered before walking off.

“I’m sorry about him,” Aunt Coralee said. “He’s become so moody, and we don’t know what to do with him half the time.”

Even if I did speak, I didn’t have a response for that.

She squeezed my arm. “We’re gonna let you get settled in. Unpack, and rest if you need. If you want company, I’ll be in the kitchen, cooking dinner. You’re welcome to go anywhere in the house you’d like. Make yourself at home.”

There was that word again: home.

My aunt and uncle left me alone, finally, and retreated down the hall. I stood in the pretty blue room and realized, much to my surprise, that I already felt safe. I’d thought the comfort of safety was long gone for me.

“So, you really don’t talk?” Brady’s voice filled the room, and I spun around to see my cousin back in the doorway.

I really didn’t want him to dislike me or be annoyed about my being here. But I wasn’t sure how to convince him that I’d keep to myself, that I wouldn’t bother him or change his life.

“Shit, this ain’t gonna be easy. You’re—” He paused and let out a laugh that didn’t sound like he meant it. “This shit is gonna be worse than I thought. Least you could have helped me out and been ugly.”

Excuse me?

Brady frowned. “Just don’t draw attention to yourself. My momma finally got the daughter she never had, but it don’t make shit easier for me. I have a life, you know.”

I simply nodded. I was sure he had a life. He was tall with dark hair and light hazel eyes, and his wide shoulders hinted at the muscles underneath his T-shirt. No doubt girls loved him.

I had no intention of being in his way, but I could see how my coming into his home and taking his room would make it seem otherwise. And now his parents had me in his classes, too.

But I’d prove he had nothing to worry about. I picked up my backpack again and took out the pad and pen I always kept with me.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, clearly confused.

I quickly wrote:

Promise I won’t be in your way. Don’t expect you to help me at school. Just let your parents think you are, and I’ll go along with it. Sorry I took your room. We can switch back if you want.

I handed the note pad to Brady and let him read it. When he finished, he sighed deeply and handed the pad back to me.

“You can keep the room. Mom’s right. I like the attic. I was just being an ass. You think you won’t need me at school, but you will. Can’t be helped.” And with that, he walked away.

I stood at the doorway as he made his way down to the kitchen. I started to shut the door when I heard Brady’s voice travel up the stairs.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked.

“Chicken spaghetti. I thought Maggie might like it since it’s your favorite,” Aunt Coralee replied. Then, dropping her voice a little: “I wish you’d take the time to get to know her.”

“Just talked to her. She, uh, wrote to me,” he replied.

“And? Ain’t she sweet?” Aunt Coralee sounded so sincere.

“Sure, Mom. She’s real sweet.”

But Brady didn’t sound very convinced.

Told Ya to Run

CHAPTER 2

WEST

I was getting drunk. That was my main goal tonight.

Slamming my truck door, I headed toward the field where I could already hear the music blasting and see the bonfire lighting the darkness. This was our last Friday night before football became our lives for the next three months. Everyone would be celebrating. Couples would be hooking up in the back of pickup trucks, everyone would have a red Solo cup full of beer in their hands, and there would be at least one fight over a girl before the night was over. It was the end to our summer and the beginning of our senior year.

But I was going to need a beer or six to celebrate. Watching my dad throw up blood as my mother wiped his forehead with pure fear in her eyes—that had been too damn much. I should have stayed home, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Every time he got sick, the little boy inside me came out¸ and I hated that feeling.

I loved my dad. He’d been my hero my entire life. How the hell was I supposed to lose him?

Shaking my head, I ran my hand through my hair and pulled hard. I was ready for the football field, and next Friday night I’d be back in my pads and helmet. But I wanted to feel some pain now. Anything to numb the reality of my life.

My phone started vibrating, and I pulled it out of my pocket. Every time it rang and I wasn’t home, terror gripped me so strongly, I felt sick. Seeing Raleigh, my girlfriend’s name, was a relief. It wasn’t Mom. Nothing was wrong. Dad was still safe at home.

“Hey,” I said, wondering why she was calling me. She knew I was headed to the field party.

“You coming to get me?” she asked, sounding annoyed.

“Didn’t ask me to come get you. I’m already at the party.

“Are you serious? I’m not coming if you don’t get me, West!” She was pissed. But Raleigh was normally pissed at me about something.

“I guess I’ll see you later, then. Ain’t in the mood for this tonight, Ray.”

Raleigh had no idea about my dad. He didn’t want people knowing how sick he was. We kept our mouths shut and, since the local hospital wasn’t sufficient to treat advanced colon cancer, we took him to the hospital an hour away in Nashville. Usually you couldn’t keep shit like this a secret in a small town, but we did for the most part. Made it easier that my momma didn’t have many friends in Lawton, never had.

As a kid I didn’t get it, but now I did. My dad had been the golden boy in high school. He was Lawton’s claim to fame after playing football at the University of Alabama and then going on to play for the New Orleans Saints. While my mother, she was a total princess—her father pretty much owned most of Louisiana—and my father had fallen in love with her.

But right after my dad blew out his knee, killing his career with the Saints, he found out he’d gotten his girlfriend pregnant. He married her against her family’s wishes and brought her back here to Alabama. The town saw it as: He’d been their hero, and she’d stolen him from them. Seventeen years later and they still kept her at a distance. But Momma didn’t seem to care. She loved my dad. He and I, we were her world. And that was it for her.