26. HOLDEN

HOLDEN

I t only takes me four days to get from Pine River to Huntsville. I fucking hate Alabama. It’s hot and muggy and if I have to see another sign about Jesus saving me … I’m going to crash my bike on purpose. Aim straight for the guardrail. There’s nothing about me that Jesus or any other deity would be able to save. I realized a long time ago that I’m doomed for hell.

Still, a thirty-six-hour ride doesn’t stop me from needing to get the information I seek. I have to know and not from her. I want physical proof of what this dick is spewing across the country. Every shitty motel I stay at plays the same clips of that asshole’s interview over and over again. Every time I watch the fake concern pass over his features my stomach churns because even Jeremy can’t hide the dead look behind his eyes.

I’ve replayed the night I met Kadence over in my head every night since I left. How she cowered, how jumpy she is whenever someone other than Cole enters a room. It was like watching a caged animal at Marlowe's dinner, one that, for some reason, I wanted to corner and calm down. She had no reason to be scared and yet, being in a room–at a table full of people who she didn’t know - was probably terrifying. I don’t regret kissing her. I don’t even regret the words I promised her.

But I have to know the truth, and right now, I can’t trust anyone. Not even her.

I called Fisher two days into my ride and gave him a heads-up that I was coming. Fisher laughed and said he’ll have a bottle waiting for me and hung up. I’ve been standing outside his house for twenty minutes debating whether this will be even worth it. Deep down, I know it is. I can’t sleep without seeing her face; she’s tormenting me from halfway across the country.

The front door swings open as Fisher takes a step out onto his porch, holding his glock in one hand. I raise a brow as I trail over the old man. His beard is thicker than the last time I saw him, though he’s still suspicious as ever.

“Nash.” He regards me before glancing up and down the street. “Almost didn’t recognize ya with that mop on your head.”

I chuckle and run my fingers through the long hair, tucking it back behind my ear. I really need to cut it. “That homeless look suits you well, Hank.”

Fisher shifts on his feet, eyebrows raising as he relaxes the arm holding the gun. I make my way to the porch taking the steps slowly as I glance up at my friend. “You got mirrors in California?”

He chortles. “Get in here, you’re letting the cool air out.”

I shake my head as I follow Hank inside. He sets the gun down on the table before turning to me as I make sure the door clicks shut behind me. “You didn’t drive this far to talk about my looks, Nash. What do you want to know?”

“I need all of the information you found on Kadence.”