Page 187 of Five Mountain Daddies

“Not what I mean,” Isay.

“Isn’t it?” She glares at me. “You think I have aproblem.”

“You admitted ityourself.”

She shakes her head. “I was just stressed. I didn’t mean it. I’mfine.”

“Mom,” I say softly. “Come on. We both know you’re analcoholic.”

“No,” she snaps at me. “I’m stuck in this hotel room with nothing to do, so why notdrink?”

“You’d be drinking this much at home too,” Isay.

“No way,” she answers, shaking her head. “One glass, maybe two. No more than two per day, sometimes three if it’s been a tough day, but nomore.”

I sigh. She can’t even see her own hypocrisy. I shouldn’t be surprised. Wyatt said she’d need time, and I’m trying to give it to her, but still… it’sfrustrating.

I look out the window and glance at my watch. It’s around three in the afternoon. I expected to hear from Wyatt by now, but he hasn’t called or texted. I thought he was just having lunch with that guy from school, but I guess it’s taking longer than he expected. I was in my room for a while, but I got bored enough to come check on my mom again, which of course I’mregretting.

It’s hard to watch her drink herself to death. I want to help her, but it’s hard. Wyatt seems so patient, but I don’t know if I have that patience. I’ll have to ask him for more help. I think if anyone can help, hecan.

I sigh and lean back in my chair. I watch TV with my mom, not really paying attention to what we’re staring at. She drinks steadily, not even bothering to offer me any, since she knows I’d turn it down anyway. We’ve gone through this little charade enough times at this point that she knows how the game’splayed.

A half hour slips past and I’m starting to worry. I glance at my phone, but there aren’t any messages. I have full bars, so I should get any calls or texts. I know Wyatt doesn’t have to check in with me or anything like that, but with everything that’s happening, I just thought hewould.

As we’re sitting there, I suddenly hear someone banging on a door near here. I don’t think anything of it until I hear more banging, and this time someone shouts myname.

I stand up as my mom looks at me sharply. “Don’t,” shesays.

“That could be about Wyatt.” I walk to the door, fear spiking through mychest.

“Cora,” Mom snaps. “Don’t.”

I put my hand on the doorknob. I hear more knocking, and someone yells my name again. It’s a man’s voice, though I don’t recognize it. I glance back at my mother and I can see the fear in her eyes. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t helpmyself.

If something’s happening with Wyatt, I have to know. I push the door open and lookout.

Jaxson Moyer is standing outside of my room’s door. He looks over sharply and our eyes meet. A creepy grin spreads across hisface.

“There you are,” hesays.

I duck back into the room and slam the door. I slap the locks shut and run back to myphone.

“What is it?” Momsays.

“It’s him,” I answer. “It’s theguy.”

“Cora!” Jaxson yells my name from outside the room. “Cora, Cora,Cora!”

He slams against the door. The locks hold but I don’t know how long they’lllast.

“What did you do?” Momhisses.

I grab my phone, ignoring her, and call Wyatt. He doesn’t pick up, so I call again and again, all the while Jaxson’s yelling my name and slamming against the door. The wood’s starting to buckle, and I can see the screws in the lock starting to twist and pull. Obviously this motel didn’t bother to install real security, because it shouldn’t be breaking thiseasily.

I give up on Wyatt and start calling the police. But before I can connect, the door smashes open, wood splinters kicking along the carpet. Jaxson steps into the room, a manic grin on hisface.

“Cora, Cora, Cora,” he says, walking towardme.

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