Corbin Caldwell has always had terrible timing.
Tonight, it might finally cost him.
His truck sits half on the shoulder of a dark two-lane road, hazard lights blinking uselessly against the trees while he stares at the dead dashboard.
He tries the ignition again.
Click.
Nothing.
"Fuck."
His phone is already in his hand.
There are a dozen people he could call.
He calls his father.
Vern answers on the fourth ring.
"What."
Corbin closes his eyes.
"Good to hear your voice too."
"You calling to socialize?"
"My truck died."
A pause.
"Where?"
Corbin gives him the road and the nearest mile marker.
Vern is quiet for a second.
Then—
"Where is she?"
Corbin's jaw tightens.
"She's not with me."
Another pause. Different this time.
"Why not?"
"She wanted to get out."
Vern leans back against the kitchen counter, phone at his ear.
Cliff looks up from the table.
Jeb stops digging through the refrigerator.
Emmitt glances over from where he is unlacing his boots.
Vern says it quieter.
"What do you mean, she wanted to get out?"
Corbin exhales sharply.
"We had a fight. She was pissed off. She said she wanted to walk, so I let her."
"How far from home?"
Silence.
Vern straightens.
"Corbin."
"It wasn't like that."
"How far?"
"I don't fucking know."
"You know exactly how far."
Corbin drags a hand down his face.
"She can call somebody."
Cliff's chair scrapes against the floor.
Vern doesn't look at him.
"Where did you leave her?"
"I didn't leave her. She got out."
"Where."
Corbin finally gives him the location.
It is nowhere near home.
Nowhere near anything.
Vern goes very still.
Jeb shuts the refrigerator.
Emmitt is already standing.
Corbin keeps talking.
"She was being ridiculous. I wasn't going to sit there all night while she—"
"Shut up."
The kitchen goes silent.
Even Corbin does.
Vern grabs his keys off the counter.
"Dad, my truck—"
"Call a tow."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"You're seriously gonna leave me sitting here?"
Vern walks toward the door.
"You left her walking on the side of a highway."
"She wanted to walk!"
"And now you want help."
"Dad—"
"No."
The line goes dead.
Vern shoves the phone into his pocket.
Cliff is already reaching for his own keys.
"I'll come."
Vern shakes his head.
"Stay here."
Jeb folds his arms.
"You know where she is?"
"I know where Corbin says he left her."
Emmitt's expression hardens.
"That was how long ago?"
Vern opens the door.
"Too fucking long."
Then he's gone.
By the time headlights finally appear behind you, the road has gotten darker than it has any right to be.
No sidewalks. No houses nearby. Just trees, asphalt, and the occasional rush of a car moving too fast.
The approaching truck slows. Then slows again. It pulls onto the shoulder ahead, brake lights glowing red, and the driver's door opens.
A large man steps out. Broad shoulders. Dark work shirt. Grey at his temples. A familiar silhouette even from a distance.
Vern Caldwell shuts the truck door behind him.
For a second he just stands there looking at you.
His jaw is tight enough to hurt.
Not at you. Never at you.
Then he walks closer.
"Get in the truck, sweetheart."
His voice is calm. Too calm.
"You're coming home with me."