Jen was a great girl. She and Tate were perfect for one another, I believed. And the more difficult my and Bray’s relationship became, the more I envied the two of them. I wanted nothing more than for Bray and me to be like they were. Free. If Bray wanted to beat the shit out of me, I would’ve welcomed it. I would’ve welcomed anything over what we had and what we were now going through.

We hit the road just after one o’clock in the afternoon and were in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, by seven o’clock. We pulled into a small motel when one of Tate’s tires blew out. It was so loud it sounded like a gunshot.

“You change the tire,” Tate told Caleb, “and I’ll call Rocky.”

“Why are you calling him?” Caleb asked.

“Because obviously we’re not going to make it there when I told him we would.”

Caleb went around to the back of the Jeep and took the spare tire down from the mount.

Tate rented two rooms first and handed me a key when he came out of the front office.

“I’ll put it on your tab,” he said with a smirk.

“How long is that tab, anyway?” I asked in jest. “At least eight hundred bucks, I’m sure.”

“Shit, man, I’m charging you interest,” he said, grinning. “We’ll get it all squared away when this is over with.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, and he disappeared inside the door two rooms down from where the Jeep was parked.

All of the rooms opened to the outside rather than inside onto a maze of hallways. I looked at our room key, which was an actual key—that’s how old the motel was—instead of a card. Our room was right next to Tate and Caleb’s. Bray finally got out of the Jeep after Caleb asked her to so he could jack it up.

“I’m going to get a shower,” I called out to Bray. “Want to come?”

A faint smile appeared around her eyes, and she crossed her arms as if there was a chill in the air, even though it was a sticky, humid night.

“I’ll take one after you,” she said.

I knew what she was doing. She was trying to distance herself from me. To prepare me. And while I didn’t exactly think that was the way to go about making the most of the three days we had left together, I couldn’t bring myself to argue with her about it.

I slipped inside the room and left her outside with Caleb while he changed the tire.

Bray

I hadn’t told Elias yet about me overhearing his conversation with Tate on the back porch at Adam’s house. The conversation about Caleb and his rape sentence. The office room Elias and I had stayed in was right next to the back porch. I’d listened to them from the window. I had also heard their conversation about me, Tate telling Elias that he should talk me into turning myself in. Tate was right in all of the advice he gave Elias, but I felt beyond redemption. There was no hope left for me. I hated it that I was dragging the one person in the world I loved more than any other through the mud with me. But he wasn’t going to leave me alone. No matter what I did or said to him, Elias would never leave me to my fate. I both loved and resented him for it. I resented him only because it hurt that much more, knowing that I was ruining him.

I sat down on the faded yellow concrete parking chock in the empty spot next to the Jeep. Caleb was pumping the metal lever on the tire jack, raising the Jeep off the asphalt.

“Mind if I ask you something?”

Caleb glanced over at me briefly.

“If I said no, would you still ask?”

“Probably,” I said.

I caught his eyes rolling as he looked back at the jack.

“What is jail like?”

Caleb stopped pumping the jack for a second, but he didn’t look at me. When he went back to work he answered, “Jail or prison? Jail is pretty manageable. Prison is a whole ’nother nightmare. Why do you ask?” He glanced back at me with a gleam in his eye. “Worried about what they’re going to do to you in there?”

My heart skipped a beat. He enjoyed asking me that. I didn’t let it get to me.

“Yes,” I answered honestly. I still had no plans on going to jail or prison, but I wanted to know what it was like just the same.

Caleb pumped the jack lever one final time and stood upright, wiping light sweat from his forehead with the top of his forearm.

“No idea what it’s like in women’s prison,” he said. “But I imagine it’s not too much different. The short time I spent locked up, it really wasn’t that different from what you see on TV. Not as harsh where I was. No one raped me in the ass or made me their bitch, but if I had shown even a fraction of fear they might’ve tried. Guess I have Tate and Kyle to thank for that.” He laughed lightly. “They beat the shit out of me growing up. I had a lot of practice. But yeah, I did get into fights, and I did get my ass beat once, but I had friends on the inside. They looked after me while I was in there, and I look after them while I’m out here.”

My expression shifted from interest to confusion, but he wouldn’t elaborate. I knew whatever he’d been doing for his “friends” on the inside must’ve been illegal.

“Did you kill that girl?” He looked right into my eyes.

“Not on purpose,” I said.

He nodded and then reached in the back of the Jeep and pulled out a tire iron. Bending over in front of the blown tire he attached one end to a lug nut. “Then you should’ve just went to the police,” he said, spinning the tire iron once. “You really fucked up by running.”

“I know,” I sighed. “But there’s nothing I can do about that now.”

I gazed contemplatively out at the falling darkness, the way the grayish-blue light fell over the parking lot. The horizon was pink and orange as the last of the sun fell behind the clouds. I thought about how blunt Caleb had been just now, how right he was.

“Did Cera ever see you while you were in prison?”

Caleb stood upright, still clasping the tire iron in his dirty, blackened hand. I knew I would strike a nerve bringing up her name, but I didn’t care much.

“You’re overstepping your bounds,” he warned.

“Did she?” I pressed.

He glared at me.

“It’s obvious you still love that girl,” I said, further angering him. “And I don’t think you’re a bad guy. An asshole at times, and a womanizing pig, but you’re clearly not a bad guy. You just happened to end up with the shit end of the stick. I just want to know if she loved you as much as you loved her.”

A deep sigh escaped Caleb’s lungs. His head dropped for a moment as if he were quietly arguing with himself for giving in to me at all.

Then he sat down beside me on the yellow chock. The tire iron clattered softly against the asphalt as he put it down next to his low black Nike shoes. He rested his arms atop his bent knees. Absently, I studied the tattoo of the Asian girl on his left arm. We looked out at the colorful, darkening horizon.

“No,” he said. “Cera never came to visit me. Not even once. I was convicted of raping someone, and she believed everyone else over me. But I didn’t blame her. I still don’t.”

I looked at him, but he didn’t look back. “I guess it would be hard to put your faith in someone who was accused of rape,” I said. “But… I think if she truly loved you then she would’ve known that you were innocent. She would’ve been able to feel it.”

“Cera did love me,” he said with a hint of acid in his voice. “You don’t spend five years of your life with someone, happy every morning when you wake up next to him, a smile in your voice every time you talk to him on the phone, if you didn’t love him.”

I nodded. I couldn’t argue with that.

Then he said, “Elias loves you. A little pussy-whipped, I think, but it’s still love.”

I was surprised by the sincerity in his face.

He grabbed the tire iron and stood back up. “Yes, I think Elias will visit you when you go to prison,” he said, and it sobered me in the darkest of ways. “That is what you want to know, isn’t it?”