Page 55 of Trapper Road

“I’m sure I’ve seen worse. Trust me.”

He snorts. “I doubt it. Mom can get pretty fierce.”

I know this kid has been through a lot in his life, but he still has no idea how sheltered he really is. He’s right that his mom can get feral — I’ve seen it happen and been on the receiving end of it — but it’s only ever directed at people coming after her family. When it comes to those in her family, she’s nothing but love and acceptance. Sure, she can be strict, but that ain’t the same thing as fierce.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got us covered.” I dig into my bag and pull out the burner phone I picked up at the gas station by the motel.

He eyes the phone warily. “What’s that?”

“It’s a phone.”

He rolls his eyes. “I know that. How will that keep you from getting in trouble?”

I grin, happy to explain. “Simple. I’ve set up my phone to forward all my texts and calls to this one. That way I can leave my phone with you, and Ms. P will think I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. But if she or anyone else texts, I’ll still be able to get it and respond.”

He looks impressed. “Pretty smart. How did you figure out to do that?”

“Years of sneaking around,” I tell him. I don’t tell him the truth, that my momma could give a shit less where I was and never once bothered checking the location of my phone. But I still learned a few tricks from my friends along the way. Some of those tricks have proven to be quite useful.

“I can do the same for you, if you want,” I offer. “Just grab a burner phone, and I’ll set it up.”

His eyes go wide as if the very idea horrifies him. Like I said, pretty sheltered kid. “Mom would kill me if she found out.”

“Your mom needs to learn how to relax.”

He shakes his head. “Not after what she’s been through.”

I grunt. “We’ve all been through shit.”

“Not like her.”

I shrug. I’m not the type to get in a debate on who’s led the shittier life. Everyone has crap to deal with.

We walk for a moment without saying anything. The motel we’re staying in sits on the main road just outside of town, but despite that there’s not much traffic. I guess not a lot of people have urgent business in Gardenia, North Carolina. Go figure.

I glance over at Connor. “You ever get tired of her paranoia? Of always having to worry that the boogeyman’s coming to get you?”

He snorts. “I wish it were the boogeyman. That would be so much easier than the truth.” He kicks at a rock on the ground, watching as it skips into the road.

We continue a little ways more before I ask, “You doing okay, Connor?”

He seems surprised by the question. “Why do you ask?”

I shrug again. “Someone’s got to.”

I’ve spent enough time with Lanny to know how easy it is for her to pretend everything’s normal when underneath it all there’s nothing farther from the truth. More nights than I can count I’ve snuck into her room and held on to her as she’s cried about one thing or another, and in the morning she’s all smiles with no evidence there were ever any tears.

Connor draws a sharp breath, and for a second I think he’s about to cry but then he swallows a few times and shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

Saying “I’m fine” is the biggest non answer anyone can give. I should know. I’ve spent most of my life being “fine,” even though I never am.

“No, you’re not,” I tell him because it’s true and any idiot can see it. I ain’t no idiot.

“You’re right. I’m not.”

“You want to talk about it?”

He glances my way before returning his focus to the sidewalk, looking for another stone to kick into the road. “Not really.”

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