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“Evan, I can’t do that.”

“Just take it. Please.” He presses it into my hand. “And call me if you need anything. Anything at all. I don’t care what time it is or what kind of trouble you’re in. You call me and I’ll come. Okay?”

The cash feels heavy in my palm. I want to refuse it. Want to prove that I don’t need his help or his money, or his constant vigilance.

But I also know that refusing would hurt him more than accepting it.

“Okay,” I say. “Thank you.”

He pulls me into another hug. This one lasts longer. When he finally lets go, his eyes are wet.

“Be careful, Junebug.”

“I will.”

I turn and walk to the truck. Wraith’s already climbing into the driver’s side, and I get in on the passenger side and close the door. Through the windshield, I can see Evan standing in the parking lot, watching us. Goldie’s joined him now, one hand on Evan’s shoulder in some kind of supportive yoga-guy gesture.

Wraith starts the engine.

We pull out of the parking lot, and I watch my brother disappear in the side mirror, getting smaller and smaller until we turn onto the main road and he’s gone.

“You did good back there,” Wraith says.

His hand comes across the center console and pats my leg. Once, twice. A gesture that’s meant to be comforting but feels wrong somehow.

“We’ll figure this out,” he continues, and there’s something in his voice — a particular tone, a specific cadence — that makes my stomach flip.

I know that tone.

It’s the tone he used to use when he’d decided for both of us and was framing it as a joint effort. The tone that said you did good when what he meant was you did what I wanted. The tone that promised we’ll figure this out when what he meant was I’ve already figured it out and you’ll do what I say.

My hands clench in my lap.

The weight of what I just did settles over me. I turned down my brother’s help. Pushed away the one person who’s always been there for me. And for what? To prove I’m independent? To show I’m New June?

Or because Wraith gave me a look, and I obeyed it like Old June would have?

“Hey.”

Wraith’s voice pulls me out of the spiral. His hand is still on my leg, warm through my jeans.

“I love you,” he says. “Never forget that.”

The words should help. They don’t. They just sit there in the truck cab between us, and I don’t know if they’re real or if they’re another form of control dressed up as affection.

“I love you, too,” I say, because that’s what you say. Because I do love him. Because I meant it when I said it earlier, and I want to keep meaning it, even though right now I feel like I’m drowning.

We drive in silence for a few minutes. The road stretches out ahead of us, empty and gray, and I watch the telephone poles tick past like a countdown to something I can’t name.

Then Wraith clears his throat.

“We’re down here in Evansburg,” he says. “The Sons don’t know we’re here. We’ve got some time before we need to figure out the next move.” He glances at me. “Would you like to go on a date?”

I blink. “A date?”

“An actual date.” He’s smiling now. Actually smiling, not the calculating expression or the careful mask, but something genuine. “Dinner somewhere decent. Maybe a movie. Normal couple stuff. When’s the last time we did something like that?”

My brain stutters trying to process this shift.