Page 50 of Full Throttle

“I just want to see if he’s here,” I told her, looking at her.

Macy shook her head in disappointment. “That’s why we’re here? I thought we were going to the movies.”

“We will,” I promised her, looking back into the empty lot. I bit my bottom lip. “I just have to see him again—just to make sure he’s okay.”

My friend groaned. “Nikki, that boy is a lost cause! Besides, no one has seen or heard from him since graduation in May! Which was four months ago, by the way,” she reminded me.

Four months since Cain graduated, but it had been a year since he ended our friendship—on his birthday. That was the day I’d gotten the courage to follow him into the crappy white house, ready to give his mom a piece of my mind.

I’d been so stupid, though; I never expected her to point a gun at me.

I never told anyone about that day, not even my parents.

Not that my mother would have cared. She’s been too busy shopping online or secretly drowning her sorrows in bottles of wine every night. Dad, on the other hand, would’ve cared. It seems the only thing he cared about anymore was me. He worked to take care of me. He cooked for me. He cleaned the house on the weekends for me, even though I did it after school on Wednesdays. He said it made him feel better, taking care of the house. I think it gave him a sense of satisfaction, knowing he had a part in trying to make it home. Mom stopped trying years ago. Honestly, I didn’t know what she was still doing there. She acted like she was trapped with us, like Dad and I were a burden to her, but I knew the truth. She had nowhere else to go.

“Nikki?”

Blinking, I was brought back into the present, where my best friend glared at me from the passenger seat of my little old Honda. I’d worked my butt off at the drive-thru by my school for this car. Dad promised me that he’d match the money I saved, and last month, we came home with this baby.

And for the last month, I’d been looking for Cain. All I knew was he was still in Detroit.

“Macy, I have to try. You don’t—you don’t understand. Cain’s home life—”

She sighed, flipping her hair. “I know. I know. He was abused or whatever, but he’s over the age of eighteen. There’s nothing that can be done.”

“I just want to make sure he’s okay,” I pushed, shoving down my irritation. Macy had the perfect life. Her father owned some paper company, and she had a trust fund. Her mother doted on her all the time, and her dad gave her anything she could ever want. She was lucky.

Cain wasn’t.

I needed to make sure he was okay, and then I could go back to living my life and him living his. Then, I could sleep well at night for once. Ever since he left his house, I hadn’t heard a peep from the woman living inside. The neighbors who lived across the street called the police to do a wellness check, but some man answered the door when that happened. I didn’t watch the rest of the interaction due my mother yelling at my father downstairs over something I did.

I had my own battles to fight.

“Fine,” Macy said, sounding bored. “Where are we supposed to look? Is he going to show up here? Wait—is he a drug dealer?”

No.

“He’s in The Pit,” I said, my eyes staring at the far end of the lot. We were on the wrong side of the tracks, and danger lurked around every corner. I didn’t care. I had to see him.

“The Pit?” she parroted.

A second later, she finally realized what I was talking about, and she straightened in her seat. “Nikki, are you crazy?”

I looked over to her. “Stay in the car,” I told her.

“Are you fucking serious?” she squeaked, grabbing my wrist. “You can’t just walk into The Pit. It isn’t open to the public.”

“I know,” I said, “but I have to try.”

Releasing an unsteady breath, I opened the car door, ignoring her protests. I stepped out, the cool autumn air greeting me as I shut the door. Shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket, I walked across the parking lot, keeping my eyes straight ahead.

A minute later, I was standing in front of a tunnel, the scent of old water and gasoline filling my nostrils.

I pulled my hair around to my right side, tucking it inside my jacket before pulling out my flashlight. Swallowing my fear, I shined it down the dark, endless tunnel. I looked over my shoulder, checking to make sure Macy hadn’t ditched me. She hadn’t.

That girl was annoying, but she was loyal. I could count on her.

“I just need to make sure he’s okay. I’ll lay eyes on him and turn back,” I told myself.

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