Chapter 3

The gas station appears just as the needle on my fuel gauge dips into the red.

My stomach grumbles, but I’m pretty sure there’s no actual food to be found here. It’s the kind of place that looks like it exists only to sell gas, cigarettes, and stale coffee.

A single pump leans against a cracked slab of pavement, and a neon OPEN sign flickers in the window.

I pull in and kill the engine. The silence is so thick it makes my ears ring.

Inside, the air smells like old gum and gasoline. The walls are lined with dusty candy and faded postcards. A man stands behind the counter—middle-aged, flannel shirt half-buttoned, eyes tired but curious.

“Afternoon,” he says. His voice is slow, stretched out like the rest of this place.

“Hi,” I say. “Can I get thirty on pump one?”

He nods, rings me up. As he hands back my change, I unfold my map and lay it on the counter between us.

“Do you know how far I am from Hucow Hollow?”

His hand pauses mid-air. His eyes narrow.

“Huco—what?”

I tap the map. “Here. It’s marked right there. Says it’s about forty miles west of here.”

He leans closer, squinting at the paper like it might bite him. Then he straightens and meets my gaze with something tight behind his eyes.

“There’s nothin’ out that way.”

I blink. “But—this says—”

“That map’s wrong,” he says, firm now.

“But it’s official,” I press. “It came with a legal notice. I inherited some land out there.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just folds his arms and stares past me. Then he gives me that look.

Pity. I’ve seen it often.

It’s the I’m-sorry-your-boyfriend-cheated-on-you look, the I’m-sorry-you-lost-your-job look, the I’m-sorry-you’re-getting-evicted look.

And now it’s the I’m-sorry-someone-scammed-you-into-thinking-you-inherited-hundreds-of-acres-of-land,-but-you-really-should-have-seen-that-one-coming-and-are-you-stupid look.

Finally, he says, “If I were you, miss, I’d turn back. Ain’t nothin’ west of here but woods and bad roads. GPS won’t help you, and cell service gets spottier the deeper you go.”

Tears well in my eyes, but I force them back.

I think about Rex in the car. I run my fingers over the map in front of me. A little voice in my head insists that something is waiting out there.

“I think I have to see for myself,” I say, softer than I mean to. But it’s true. Whatever this is, it’s mine. And it might not be much, but it’s more than I’ve got.

If it’s nothing but land, I’ll sell it and start fresh in a new city.

The man exhales as if he’s just given up an argument and slides the map back toward me with two fingers.

He looks at me for a moment, then turns and snatches an official map from a pile and hands it to me.

“Free with fuel purchase,” he mutters.

I fold my map carefully, like it might fall apart if I’m not gentle enough, then gladly take his as well.

At least if this is a big joke, then his map will get me out of there.

He watches me until I leave.

* * *

Back in the car, I sit in silence for a long time, staring at the map the guy gave me. I trace my fingers along the road I’m heading to. Where my map has much more detail, this more official map shows nothing but open field. There are no roads marked on it as though the rest of the world just passes it by.

The sun is high in the sky. Rex leans slightly toward the passenger side window, angling toward the light.

The keys to the Hollow feel heavy in my pocket.

I pull out my map again.

There’s a road that leads west from here that matches the road on the attendant’s map. But then there’s another road that isn’t. It’s narrow, and winding off the main road to a little X near the bottom of the page that calls to me like a heartbeat.

Hucow Hollow.

Even the name hums in the back of my throat now, like something half-remembered and just out of reach.

I grip the steering wheel, turn the key, and head out of town.