Page 1

REILY

T he POS sputters, coughing like it’s on its last breath, as I clutch the wheel and lean forward like I can will it to keep going.

“Come on, you rustbucket. Just five more minutes. Don’t you dare die on me now.

We’ve been through worse, right?” The engine groans in response, but it keeps rolling, and I let out a shaky breath.

My stomach growls loud enough to compete with the engine.

Empty fridge, empty cabinets, and an empty wallet.

All thanks to Gary freaking Irons. “That dickhead billionaire shows up, buys the mine, shuts it down, and now I’m begging for a job at a grease pit.

” I mutter under my breath, tightening my grip on the wheel.

The mountains loom in the distance, their majesty doing nothing to ease my frustration.

The POS wheezes into the parking lot of Fast Freddy’s, the neon sign flickering like it’s on its last legs too. I pull into a spot and give the dashboard a pat. “Atta girl. Maybe I’ll scrape together enough to get you a new muffler. Or at least a prayer.”

I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror.

My hair’s a mess, my face pale from skipping breakfast. “Stop looking so sad,” I tell myself.

“No one wants to hire someone who looks like they’ve been chewed up and spit out.

Smile, and the whole world smiles with you.

” I force a grin, but it’s more of a grimace.

My fingers stretch my lips into something that resembles a smile, but my eyes still scream help me.

Inside, the smell of overcooked fries hits me like a wall. The place is empty except for two zit-faced teenagers behind the counter, their heavy metal band tees hanging off their skinny frames like they’re trying to wear their older brothers’ clothes. Boris and Barfbag. Just my luck.

“Hey, baby,” Boris says, his braces catching the fluorescent light as he grins. “If I were in charge of the alphabet, I’d put my D next to your P.”

Barfbag snorts, doubling over like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Dude, that’s gold. Pure gold.”

My jaw tightens. “Real original. Did you come up with that all by yourself, or did you have to google ‘cheesy pickup lines for losers’?”

Boris leans on the counter, undeterred. “Someone’s feisty. I like it.”

“I’m here for the job interview,” I say, refusing to let my annoyance show. “Is the manager around, or are you two the welcoming committee?”

Barfbag gestures toward the back with a greasy spatula. “He’s in the office. Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks.” I mutter, stepping past them. My stomach growls again, louder this time, and I force myself to keep walking.

I need this job. Even if it means working with these idiots.

Even if it means serving greasy fries to every tourist passing through Coldwater.

Even if it means swallowing my pride and pretending not to hate every second of it.

I need this job.

The door to the manager’s office looks like it’s seen better days—scuffed and dented, with a crooked nameplate that reads Chad Browning, Manager. I knock twice, sharp and quick, and wait.

The door swings open after a moment, and there he is. Chad. His tie is too short, his mustache too thin, and his expression too smug. His eyes flick over me like he’s already decided I’m not worth his time.

“Can I help you?” His voice is all nasal condescension, like he’s doing me a favor just by acknowledging my existence.

“Yeah, I’m here for the job interview. Reily Dawson.”

His eyebrows lift a fraction, like he’s surprised I managed to string a sentence together. “Ah, yes. Come in.” He steps back with a flourish, gesturing toward a chair that’s seen more asses than a carnival ride.

I sit, trying not to fidget as he closes the door and takes his place behind the desk. He picks up my resume like it’s a piece of evidence in a trial and peers at it over the top of his glasses.

“So, Reily. I see you’ve worked at... a bait shop?”

“And a gas station.”

“Hmm.” He sets the paper down, folding his hands like a TV lawyer. “This is a quick service restaurant, Reily. It’s fast-paced. Demanding. Are you sure you’re... qualified for that kind of environment?”

“Um, I kind of think I can learn the more technical aspects.”

His lips press into a thin line. “That’s what everyone thinks.” He leans back, his chair creaking under his weight. “Here at Fast Freddy’s, we expect dedication. Discipline. You’ll be permanently on call, meaning if I need you, you come in. No excuses. If you don’t show up, you’re terminated.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Whoa, dude, aren’t you going a bit far for a fast food job?”

His face turns red, and he slams his hand on the desk. “It’s a quick service restaurant. Say the words ‘fast food’ again, and you’re gone before you even start.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Got it. Quick service. Totally different.”

He glares at me, clearly unamused. “This isn’t a joke, Reily. We take our work seriously here.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” I glance around at the peeling wallpaper and the flickering fluorescent light. “So... do I have the job or not?”

He leans forward, steepling his fingers like a Bond villain. “I’ll keep your name in consideration. I’m still at the accepting applications stage. Bye.”

I stand, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Right. Thanks for the... chat.”

He doesn’t respond, already flipping through a stack of papers like I’ve ceased to exist.

Back in the dining area, Boris and Barfbag are leaning on the counter, grinning like they’ve been waiting for me.

“Sooo,” Boris drawls, “how’d it go? You gonna be slinging fries with us?”

Barfbag snickers. “Yeah, you and us, the dream team.”

“Keep dreaming.” I head for the door, my stomach sinking.

“Aw, come on,” Boris calls after me. “Don’t be like that. We’re just messing with you.”

“Yeah,” Barfbag adds. “It’s not like you lost a real job or anything.”

I don’t look back, but their laughter follows me out the door.

, The POS groans to life, and I steer it toward Dauber’s Pharmacy, the engine hiccuping like it’s mocking my bad luck.

I park in the small lot, the gravel crunching under my boots as I head inside.

The bell dings above the door, and Jeffry Dauber looks up from behind the counter, his gentle smile easing some of the tension in my shoulders.

“Reily,” he says warmly. “How’s your mother holding up?”

“Hanging in there.” I lean on the counter, forcing a smile. “She’s tough.”

“That she is.” He turns and starts pulling the meds from the shelf behind him, the labels a blur of complicated names and dosages. “Got everything ready for you. Just give me a sec.”

I nod, pulling out my wallet and flipping it open to the debit card that’s seen better days. Jeffry rings up the order, and I swipe the card, holding my breath.

Declined.

I blink at the machine, then swipe again.

Declined.

Jeffry clears his throat gently. “It’s okay, Reily. Happens to the best of us.”

I pull out my phone and check my account balance, my stomach sinking as I see the number staring back at me—lower than it should be, thanks to the interest on that payday loan I took out last month. My throat tightens, and I swallow hard.

“Hey,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Which of these can she skip? Just for a week or so? I’ll get the rest next time.”

Jeffry’s brow furrows, and he shakes his head. “Reily, these are all important. Your mother needs them.”

“I know, but—” My voice cracks, and I press my lips together, willing myself not to cry in front of him. “I just... I can’t do it all right now.”

Jeffry’s expression softens, and he pushes the bag of meds toward me. “Take them. We’ll settle up next time.”

I shake my head, my hands trembling as I push the bag back. “No, I can’t. I know you’re struggling too. I’ve seen the notices about the chains moving in. I can’t do that to you.”

“Reily,” he says, his voice firm but kind. “You’re good for it. I know you are. Your mother needs these, and I’m not going to let her go without because of a temporary hiccup.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He tucks the bag into my hands and gives me a reassuring smile. “Take care of your mother. That’s what matters.”

I clutch the bag, my vision blurring as tears spill over. “Thanks, Jeffry. I... I won’t forget this.”

He nods, his smile never wavering. “You’ll make it right. I know you will.”

I turn and head back to the POS, the bag of meds feeling heavier than it should.

I climb in and sit there for a moment, the dam finally breaking as I let out the stress in a flood of tears.

Minutes pass, my shoulders shaking as I cry into the steering wheel, the sound of the engine ticking as it cools the only thing keeping me company.

Eventually, I scrub my face with my sleeve, take a deep breath, and start the car. Time to go home.

The POS wheezes to a stop in the driveway, and I take a deep breath before grabbing the bag of meds and heading inside.

The front door creaks like it’s protesting my existence, and I step into the living room to find my mom on the floor, one leg stretched up in the air like she’s auditioning for Cirque du Soleil.

“Hi honey,” she says, her voice calm, like this is perfectly normal. “I was just doing some yoga.”

I drop the meds on the couch and cross my arms. “Mom, don’t lie to me. You fell again. Why didn’t you use your medical alert alarm?”

She glances at the device hanging around her neck and sighs. “It costs a hundred dollars every time they send someone out to get me back up. Besides, I knew you would be home soon.”

“That’s not the point.” I kneel down and loop an arm around her shoulders, helping her sit up. “What if I wasn’t? You can’t just—ugh, never mind. Let’s get you off the floor.”

She winces as I hoist her to her feet, her walker toppled nearby like a monument to her stubbornness. I right it and guide her to the couch, where she sinks into the cushions with a grateful sigh.

“Now stay put while I figure out dinner.” I head to the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for something edible. Half a box of pasta, a can of diced tomatoes, and some spices. Good enough.

“How’d the job hunt go?” Mom calls from the living room.

I pretend to focus on the pot of boiling water. “Good. Couple of promising leads. Should hear back soon.”

“That’s wonderful, honey.” Her voice is bright, and I feel a pang of guilt for lying. I’ll tell her the truth eventually, but right now, she doesn’t need to worry about me.

Dinner’s a quiet affair—pasta with a makeshift tomato sauce that tastes better than it has any right to. Mom eats every bite, and I count that as a win. After, I make sure she takes her meds, the pills lined up on the table like little soldiers ready for battle.

“All set,” she says, swallowing the last one with a sip of water. “Thanks, sweetie.”

I help her to bed, tucking her in like she’s a kid instead of the other way around. “Sleep well, Mom.”

“You too, Reily.” She smiles, , I feel like maybe, just maybe, things will be okay.

I flop onto the living room couch, my body sinking into the worn cushions. My eyes drift shut, and for the first time all day, I let myself relax.

Which, of course, is when the doorbell rings.

I groan, dragging myself to my feet. “If this is Boris and Barfbag, I’m setting The POS on fire.”

The doorbell screeches again, like a cat being strangled, and I yank the door open, ready to unleash hell.

I yank the door open, ready to unleash hell, but instead, I find Clem and Seabus standing there, looking like they just lost a fight with a tornado. Clem’s flannel shirt is rumpled, his Skoal cap crooked, and Seabus is pacing behind him, his face red and his hands clenched into fists.

“He’s finally done it,” Clem says, his voice shaking. “He’s gone too far this time.”

Seabus spits on the ground, narrowly missing my porch. “Rich sonofabitch.”

I cross my arms, leaning against the doorframe. “What are you two talking about? What’s Irons done now?”

Clem takes a step closer, his broad shoulders hunched. “He’s applied for a permit to build a hydroelectric dam on Silver Stream.”

“Silver Stream?” My stomach drops. That river is the lifeblood of Coldwater’s tourism. People come from all over to fish, kayak, and camp along its banks. “You’re kidding.”

Seabus shakes his head, his tattoos gleaming under the porch light. “Wish we were. Dam’s gonna make the river unusable for recreation. And it’ll flood Mirror Lake.”

“That’s insane!” I explode, my hands flying to my head. “Mirror Lake’s one of the most popular spots in Dawson Park. Tourists love it. Businesses depend on it. He can’t just?—”

“He can,” Clem interrupts, his voice hollow. “And he will. He won’t be happy until he kills the entire town.”

“He already has killed the entire town,” Seabus growls, his fists tightening. “This dam is just the eulogy.”

The despair in his voice cuts through me. Clem’s eyes are wet, and the man who used to haul tons of rock out of the mine looks defeated. It’s too much. I can’t let them spiral. I reach out, grabbing Clem by the front of his flannel and shaking him hard.

“You shut up!” I snap, my voice sharp enough to make him blink. “Coldwater is not dead! Not yet! It’s time we do something about Gary Irons.”

Seabus squares his shoulders, his chest puffing out like a rooster. “I got a shotgun, a shovel, and a free night.”

Clem raises a hand, cutting him off. “I think she’s got something less lethal in mind.” He turns to me, his eyes narrowing. “Go on, Reily. Use them book smarts and tell us how we’re going to stop one of the richest, most powerful men in the world.”

I freeze. I hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. My mind races, scrambling for something, anything , to keep these two from marching off to Irons’ mansion with pitchforks and torches. Then it hits me.

“We’ll organize a protest,” I say, the words tumbling out faster than I can think. “Against the dam proposal. The biggest this city has ever seen! We’ll get everyone—fishermen, shop owners, families—to show up and make some noise. Boss Hoag won’t be able to ignore us. He’ll have to tell Irons no.”

Clem raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “You really think Hoag’s gonna stand up to Irons? That man’s got more money than common sense.”

“He will if he’s got half the town breathing down his neck,” I shoot back. “We’ll make it so loud, so impossible to ignore, even Hoag can’t pretend not to hear us.”

Seabus grunts, crossing his arms. “A protest, huh? Sounds a lot less fun than my idea.”

“Fun doesn’t matter,” I say, my voice firm. “This town matters. And if we’re gonna save it, we need to do it together.”