Everyone in the small town of Hull knows two things. One: Jill Williams doesn't date, and two: Carson Blue is addicted to drugs.
When Carson decides to clean up his act and apply at Jill's family restaurant, she's less than enthused. Between school...
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THE SUN HAS LONG SET by the time I drag Nolan through the park, the trees doused in the cool blue of night. He resists my pull on his wrist and whines, "Jill, I changed my mind. I don't wanna see Carson."
"Come on, buddy, it'll be good for you to face him. He wants to apologize, and frankly, he owes you one. We can go right home after if you want."
Sighing, Nolan yanks his arm from my grasp, but keeps walking beside me. My lips twitch into an accomplished grin; I'm glad he's coming around. He's been changing his mind constantly since I pulled him out of his trailer, right after Colleen tried to feed us both borderline cat food. Thankfully Nolan's getting old enough to know his own way around a kitchen, so he made a can of soup that actually had vegetables in it instead.
"And don't forget," I go on, "it's okay to tell him he hurt you. It's okay to let people know how they make you feel."
"Yeah, whatever..."
Nolan might not see it, but this whole me mentoring him thing is awkward for both of us. But Colleen's the type of mom who encourages him to get into fights with other kids and "grow a pair," so yeah, that's not okay either. I don't know if any of the advice I give Nolan is good or not—but I'm trying my best here. Thankfully, he doesn't resist.
We reach Carson's trailer, where he smokes a cigarette with his guitar on his back. When he sees us, he stands at attention and stomps it out with his boot, the ember creating a sizzle in the damp earth. I can't explain why, but as we meet with him, there's a sizzle in my heart, too. Why am I nervous?
"Hey, you came," Carson says, voice still gritty and tired. He looks like he could pass out any second, but holds himself up.
"Of course." I blink at him expectantly while Nolan stares at his feet.
"Hey, Nolan..." Carson clears his throat. "How you feeling?"
My elbow gently nudges Nolan, and he snaps out of it. He mumbles, "Hey."
After scratching the back of his head, Carson sighs. "Look, I'm sorry I blew you off last night. I don't have a good excuse for it—I messed up."
"It was kind of lame," Nolan says. "I waited here for two hours."
"I'm really sorry, man. Too late to take it back, but"—he slaps his guitar—"I'd love to show you some things right now, if you're up for it."
"I didn't bring my guitar."
"You can play mine."
Like a flower being watered, Nolan perks up. "Really?"
"Hell yeah." He locks eyes with me. "Come on, I'm taking you guys somewhere. Follow me."
***
Golden Dawn Trailer Park was established in 1979. I know that because my dad used to rant about how his dad, whom I never met, lived in one of these old cottages down by the water. But in 79 a man named Mr. Nilsson set up a trailer park nearby, creating a wedge directly between the town and the cottages.
