I’d never thought of it as running, but perhaps there was a bit of truth to that. My lifestyle made it easier to stay hidden. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“But you can come back now,” Scarlett said.
“Not so fast, Scar,” Gibson said. “I need to make something perfectly clear. This stays between us. To everyone else, she’s Maya. Anyone so much as thinks the name Callie in front of other people, I’ll break them in half.”
“Gibson, you know I can’t do that,” Cassidy said.
“That’s okay,” I said quickly. I could feel Gibson getting angry. “Your dad needs to know, too. I’m prepared to talk to him, as long as we can keep it quiet for now.”
“Gibs is actually right about keeping her a secret,” Devlin said. “We can’t forget what we’re dealing with here. There’s a falsified forensics report, harassment, not to mention more than one mysterious death that could be tied to the judge.”
Jonah stepped forward. “I’m seconding this. We need to be very careful.”
“He’s dangerous,” I said. “Please don’t underestimate him.”
“Which is why y’all are going to keep your fucking mouths shut,” Gibson said.
“Of course we’ll keep her safe,” Scarlett said. Her mouth turned up in a little grin. “But y’all realize you’ll have to keep up the pretense that you’re dating, right? People might look at you twice, but if we all stick to the story that you’re Gibson’s girlfriend Maya, it’ll work.”
My eyes darted to Gibson, but I couldn’t read his expression. “Yeah, that’s the plan.”
“She’s right,” Leah Mae said. “We want to control the narrative. In this case, it means giving Bootleg Springs something else to talk about.”
“A distraction,” Devlin said, nodding.
“And let’s be honest, Gibs,” Bowie said, patting him on the back, a big grin on his face. “You walking around town with a girl on your arm is going to be one hell of a distraction.”
12
MAYA
Gibson’s family left the hot springs in small groups about ten minutes apart. They didn’t want anyone in town noticing that we’d all been out there at the same time. I watched June and George go—the last of the group besides me and Gibson. June was telling George what sounded like a complicated plan to take a winding route back to town to throw off any pursuers. She didn’t seem swayed by George’s good-natured reminder that no one was actually in pursuit.
We left shortly after and went straight back to Gibson’s house. Someone had left a tin-foil-wrapped dish outside the front door with a little note. Gibson brought it inside and tossed it on the counter, grumbling about nosy neighbors.
He got two calls and a text, all from different family members confirming that the Kendalls weren’t in town. Their house had been vacant for at least several days, maybe longer. That was good news. There was a low risk that I’d run into them unexpectedly.
Which meant I could go into town.
After a late breakfast of scrambled eggs—Gibson cooked today—we decided it was time to see if we could pull off our plan. Either I was going to show up in Bootleg and cause an uproar, or they were going to buy our story that I was Maya.
We went outside and Gibson locked the door behind me. It was still warm summer weather here in West Virginia, the sun bright in the clear blue sky. We walked out to his truck, the gravel crunching beneath my sandals.
“What happened to your old truck?” I asked. “The blue one you used to have.”
“It died,” he said. “It was old when I got it, and I wasn’t exactly easy on it. I’ve had this one for a few years. I got it mostly to haul lumber, but I’ve been driving it full-time for a while.”
We both got in and I fastened my seatbelt. “Why?”
“I hit a patch of ice trying to avoid a deer last winter in my other car,” he said. “Wound up hitting a tree instead. I had to save up to get the body work done. And now I have to wait because my guy’s busy. But I don’t trust my baby with anyone else.”
“Your baby?”
“Nineteen sixty-eight Charger,” he said with pride.
I could imagine him in a hot muscle car. “That’s literally the perfect car for you.”
“Yep.” His lips turned up in a little smile. “She purrs like a kitten.”
Shifting in my seat, I looked out the window. He really needed to stop being so effortlessly sexy. He was killing me.
We headed out the long drive toward the road, then