For all the years he's been gone, Lucas resents the small part of him that lights up when he finds himself back on Austin soil.

Well, not exactly Austin—it's been far too long since he set foot in the actual city, and he doesn't have any intention of doing so any time soon. But the city itself was never where he came from anyway. It's those pocket towns around it, the farmlands and cheap dives and dusty roads. It's anything but glamorous, but it was all he knew, so no matter how far away he travels or many miles his feet stamp into the road, there's always that small part of him that is happy to be back.

He seriously resents it.

Squinting in the sun, he looks both ways and takes a deep breath before darting across the road. He doesn't know why he bothers to look both ways—cars never come this far off the road unless they're lost or desperate for gas. No one of an otherwise right mind would take the time to stop in the middle of nowhere, and he can't blame them.

The Sundance strip, as he and his friends used to call it growing up, is far less exciting than the name would imply. It has the necessary commodities to be labeled a local hangout for the teenage population of the farm suburbs—a diner, a bowling alley, a movie theater. A bar for them to attempt to sneak into and a McDonalds to seek refuge in when the former plan fails. It's what they liked to consider their Sunset Strip, as if they were as fascinating as Southern California.

Predictably, that was untrue.

Lucas approaches the back of the strip, scaling the chain-link fence blocking it off from the road and hoisting himself over the top. The drop from the top is a little jarring, but nothing he hasn't done before. Once he's shaken off the daze, he's well on his way to Chubbie's diner.

Shrugging off his backpack, he deposits it by the back door and waits patiently until one of the chefs ducks out for their usual smoke break. He catches the door to the kitchen before it closes, slipping inside as inconspicuously as possible.

It's a little much to be surrounded by so many people all the sudden, but he's pretty good at going unnoticed. He skates his way around the diner staff, all of them dressed somewhat similarly to him and far too engrossed in their business to pay him any attention.

The freshly cooked food is a much greater distraction. It takes every bit of will power in him not to take a detour and have some for himself, but he manages. He's already seen how much trouble a little bit of foraging can cause, and besides, he's there for a very specific reason. He's not going to create any trouble for himself he doesn't need.

Finally emerging from the kitchen and finding himself behind the back counter, he spots who he's looking for waiting on a table right by the front entrance. As he turns around Lucas ducks down and walks around the other side of the counter, rising to his feet and sauntering up as if he just walked in the door like any other customer.

"Excuse me," he says pointedly to the server, trying his best to hold back his grin. "But you wouldn't happen to know whether or not this place has some dork named Asher Garcia working behind the counter, would you?"

Asher turns around, blinking at Lucas for half a second before his face lights up with recognition.

"Oh my God!"

It takes even less time for him to round the counter again, barreling Lucas with a hug. His embrace is tight and Lucas has half a mind to fake suffocation and collapse, but he knows the strength of the hug is a good thing. Considering he doesn't get very many, he figures he should enjoy it. So he returns the embrace.

While Asher gets him situated at the counter and gets a meal going for him, Lucas finds himself marveling over how little his friend has changed in three or so years. Same short-cropped strawberry blonde hair, same rosy cheeks, same slight build and bony elbows that probably do him a lot of good fighting through the kitchen back there.

Lucas has no idea whether or not he's changed. He doesn't spend a lot of time looking in the mirror.

When Asher slides the grilled cheese across the counter at him, Lucas has to resist the urge to get up and hug him again. "You know me so well."

"Only been friends our entire lives," he says offhandedly, leaning forward on his elbows across the counter. He watches in silence as Lucas wolfs down the food, the ambient noise of the other patrons enough to fill the gap in conversation. "So, you staying this time around?"

Lucas shakes his head, waiting until he swallows to speak again. "Just passing through."

"And going where?"

"Don't know." He shrugs, offering him a charming smile. "Any way the wind blows, as they say."

Asher doesn't look amused. "Come on, Lucas. You've been doing this drifter thing for like, five years now. Isn't it time to give it up? Don't you want to come home?"

"Don't have one," Lucas refutes matter-of-factly.

He's surprised to see the disappointed expression on Asher's face. The moment is interrupted before he can offer consolation, another familiar face rounding the counter and catching sight of him.

"Well, look who it is."

"What are you doing here?" Vanessa says with a sneer, curly dark hair pulled out of her face and wearing an apron identical to Asher's. She places her hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you supposed to be out on the side of the road somewhere?"

Lucas offers another smirk. "This doesn't count as the side of the road?"

"I meant like, wasting away. Maybe in a ditch. Roadkill."

Asher gives her an offended look, but Lucas isn't nearly as fazed. He fakes hurt, patting his chest and shaking his head. "Harsh, Nessie. Very harsh."

She rolls her eyes. "Get a job."

Lucas winks at her as she stalks away, Asher biting his lip and waiting to speak again until she's out of earshot. "It's okay. She's just pissy because she had that crush on you in high school and then you dipped before she could do anything about it."

"Nah." He watches her disappear back into the kitchen, laughing with another waitress. "She was always Zay's girl. She was always into him, even if she wouldn't admit it."

"Well, that's true enough. They're still playing that game to this day, if I'm not mistaken."

"I believe it." There's a long pause as Lucas hesitates, uncertain if he wants to broach the subject or not. "How is Zay? Still the same?"

Asher takes a French fry from the plate, twirling it in his fingers. After a long moment, he shrugs. "I haven't talked to him in a really long time. Just don't see much of each other, I guess." He takes a bite of the fry, avoiding eye contact. "Probably have better luck with Vanessa."

"Yeah, better not push my luck on that one."

"All I know is that he's working at the precinct, so you'd do best not to see him either. He and Wyatt are both gunning for a promotion, since that's all there is to do in this Cowtown. Get a job and work at it until you die."

Lucas takes the final bite of his grilled cheese, wiping his hands clean and raising his eyebrows. "Then I'm not missing out on much, am I?"

"It's all anyone's talking about, who Yancy is gonna bump up to be his right-hand man." Asher pauses, eyeing him curiously. "That and Grace's divorce."

Lucas stares down at his plate, poking at the remaining potatoes but suddenly not very interested in eating them. "Got finalized, then, I'm guessing?"

"Reckon it would be," Asher admits, "If Kenneth hadn't disappeared. Been gone a month or so, right when they were supposed to sign the papers."

Lucas suddenly finds himself sick to his stomach. He shakes his head, pushing the plate away from him and tearing at a hangnail on his thumb. He knew the subject of his parents was bound to come up, especially with Asher leading the conversation—but this was a change of events he wasn't expecting. They'd never been the perfect family, very far from it, but the idea of Kenneth just disappearing seems drastic even for him.

But then, how can he talk? He's no better.

"It's so ugly. Way he treats your mama. He doesn't want to be around anymore, you'd think he'd just let it go. But for some reason it's like he doesn't want her to have freedom of her own regardless. Whether he's around or not, he still wants her to be tied down. And you know how people are 'round here, no one is going to court her if they think she's still taken. Just plain ugly."

"He's never been anything but," Lucas mutters. Then he forces himself to shake it off, plastering on a smile and shrugging. "But hey, he's gone. Sure she's better off. She's probably staying with Pappy Joe, he'll take good care of her."

Asher blinks at him. "No, she's not."

"No, I'm serious," Lucas declares, crossing his arms on the table. "I know he's my dad's dad and everything, but he really loves Grace. He'd take her in no sweat, that much I know."

"She's not with Pappy Joe."

He rolls his eyes. "Okay, Asher, like you know everything about my family."

"Lucas," Asher says, licking his lips and squinting slightly. "Pappy Joe passed away."

He's pretty sure he didn't hear him right. He couldn't have heard him right. When he forces himself to speak, his voice comes out quieter than he would prefer. "What?"

"Yeah. Heart attack just a couple weeks ago. I would've told you, but…"

Lucas figures this is what having a heart attack must feel like—how tight his chest feels and how clammy his hands are. He's trying to process the reality of Asher's words, but he can't get his brain to function properly. There's a dull ache in the back of his throat and a lump that won't go away no matter how hard he swallows.

For as long as he can remember, Pappy Joe has always been there. Last he knew, he was perfectly fine. How could it be that someone who's there one second, alive and well in your memory is suddenly wiped from existence? How could it possibly be that people just leave?

Pappy Joe. Kenneth. And him, first of all of them.

Guess it runs in the family.

"I'm sorry," Asher says sympathetically, reaching forward and tentatively patting the back of his hand.

Lucas pulls away from the touch on instinct, locking his fingers together on his lap instead. "It's fine. I haven't seen him in years."

"He was your grandpa."

"I'm fine," Lucas insists, clearing his throat and managing a smile. He shrugs. "Life, right?"

Asher doesn't look convinced. It's another one of those things that Lucas resents, one of those things that doesn't change no matter how many years go by—Asher can see right through him, regardless of the time that's passed.

"Well, in any case, you should give your mama a call. Figure she'd appreciate the company."

Lucas snorts. He keeps his eyes on his fingers, picking at his nails. "Bet I'm the last person she wants to hear from right now."

"That's not true."

"Whatever." He shakes his head, shrugging off the melancholy. He's not held back by these feelings—he's not his mother, tied down to this place forever. "I'm not here to stay. Wouldn't have much time for a visit anyway."

"Then what are you here for?"

"You know what I come back for," Lucas states flatly, giving him a look. "Best place to get grilled cheese for miles."

Asher rolls his eyes. "Yeah, that's it. Give me one second."

He disappears back into the kitchen, leaving Lucas to stew in the remnants of their conversation by himself.

Glancing around the diner, it surprises him how many faces he doesn't recognize. At a table in the corner, a family with two little kids finishes up a late brunch. The oldest of the two can't be any older than five.

Although he's always proclaimed it, for the first time, Lucas suddenly feels as vagrant as his word. That kid has known this town for as long as he's been away. To that little kid, this diner is his turf. The Sundance strip is his now, and he's simply the stranger passing through.

He doesn't belong here. He doesn't belong anywhere.

Asher snaps him out of his own head when he reappears, sliding a wad of cash across the counter at him. "That's what I put aside last couple years. In case you showed up again."

"Much appreciated." Lucas breaks into a grin, leaning forward to pat his shoulder. "Always count on you. You never let me down."

"Well, when you been friends your entire life," he says sheepishly. He pauses as Lucas counts the bills, eyeing the money anxiously. "Look, just do me a favor."

"Name it."

"Call your mama. At least think about it."

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?" Lucas sighs, stuffing the money in his jeans pocket. "I don't have her number."

"I can get it to you."

"I don't have a phone."

"You know how to use public phones. You could even borrow mine, if you call her now."

"Yeah, that's not happening."

"Look, would you just—," Asher starts, biting his tongue and searching the counter in frustration. He grabs a napkin from the dispenser and pulls the pen out from behind his ear, pressing the cloth into the countertop as he jots ten digits down as quickly as possible. "Take this. And think about it."

Lucas takes the napkin from him, squinting at it critically. "How the hell do you know my mama's number off the top of your head?"

"Just take it and the cash and think about it. Can you do that for me?" Asher waits for him to meet his eyes, gazing at him pleadingly. "It's up to you whether you do so or not."

Lucas hesitates, mouth half-open with a reply. He wants to agree for his friend's sake, but something in him won't let the words come out. He doesn't know what it is—stubbornness, pride, fear—but it makes the deal impossible to verbalize.

He's saved from answering as Vanessa slides up to the counter again, leaning forward and speaking in a harsh whisper. "You need to get out of here."

"Look, Nessie, I know you're not fond of me. But this is coming on a little strong, don't you think?"

"Not because of that," she hisses, tossing an urgent look to Asher. "Yancy's cruiser just pulled up in front. He's going to be coming in any minute. You need to leave. Now."

Asher glances over his shoulder, out the main entrance. His eyes widen.

Lucas can tell from his expression that he's in trouble. "Oh, shit."

"Come on, come on!"

Lucas hops off the stool, stuffing the napkin into his pocket and diving behind the counter just as the doorbell jingles with a new customer entering the premises. Vanessa gestures him back towards the kitchen, walking behind him and blocking him from view as best as she can considering his sizable height advantage over her.

The last thing Lucas hears from Asher is a chipper greeting towards their local sheriff before the kitchen door closes behind him, separating them again without so much as a goodbye. No idea when they'll get to see each other again.

As sentimental as Lucas would like to be, he knows he doesn't have the time. He tears away from Vanessa without so much as a thank you, skirting his way around the workers the same way he came in. When he bursts into the sunlight in the back alley, he grabs his backpack and slings it onto his shoulders, making a beeline for the fence and scaling it without a second thought.

His landing is much rougher than before—if it can count as a landing at all. He stumbles halfway over the top and careens downward, sprawling into the dirt on the other side.

He doesn't even have the time to curse properly, scrambling to his feet with a wince. He's covered in dirt and his knee is stinging in a way that he's reluctant to investigate, but it's a problem that'll have to wait.

Thankful that he knows his way around, Lucas heads across the road and down the main street towards the trailer parks. If he can disappear there, he'll be able to hide out until Yancy heads back to the station—but he's got to get there first. And there's a lot of Sundance strip to cut through.

Glancing over his shoulder and seeing the sleek police cruiser in the parking lot of the diner is an alarming sight. It's hard to miss, glossy and sleek against the rest of the junk heaps people drive around these neighborhoods. Even the pick-up truck he drove in high school was a pile of rust.

He's crossing into the convenience store parking lot when he puts his focus back in front of him, just in time for him to ram into someone and almost lose his footing entirely.

"Oh my God!"

Lucas's hands reach out instinctively to catch the victim before she stumbles, stabilizing her upright and keeping her from dropping her items. He doesn't even bother to get a good look at her, intent on moving forward when to his great disdain, she starts a conversation.

"Sorry about that, I'm a klutz."

He tries to sidestep her, glancing over her head and attempting to plan his escape route. He can feel the clock ticking away. Asher can only buy him so much time. "It's okay. No worries."

"I didn't even see you. You practically came out of nowhere," she says, her voice betraying a bit of a defensive tone at his dismissal. She thwarts his attempts to step around her, examining him curiously and trying to get him to look at her. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Fine," he assures her. He glances over his shoulder, the cruiser still gleaming brightly in the parking lot behind him. He can feel his heart pounding in his fingertips.

"Do you need a ride?"

This manages to catch his attention. He whips around to face her again, finally getting an actual look at the girl he nearly ran over. "Huh?"

It's obvious to him that she's not from the neighborhood—she's dressed far too nicely. Despite the casual nature of her jean shorts and t-shirt, they're too new. Hardly worn from wear. Her wavy, dark hair is pulled back out of her face in a messy ponytail that's slightly too neat to be genuinely haphazard.

But what really piques his interest are her eyes. They're brown, russet basically, and he doesn't think he's ever met someone whose eyes are so naturally wide. Full of curiosity, inherently naïve, but genuine. When she locks eyes with him and poses the question again, there's not a hint of hesitation in the offer.

"Do you need a ride?"

Lucas hesitates, licking his lips and glancing over his shoulder again. He figures he shouldn't—there's something innately uncouth about accepting kindness from a young lady seemingly traveling alone—but the door to the diner opening kicks him into high gear and throws all his better judgment out the window.

"Yeah. Yeah, that would be great. Where's your car?"

The girl leads the way across the parking lot, not picking up on his nerves as they make their way to a dated dark green hatchback. He hesitates with his hand over the door handle, squinting into the sun as he spies Sheriff Yancy emerge from the diner with a familiar face at his side.

It's weird to think that maybe if things had been different, if he hadn't left all those years ago, he and Zay Babineaux wouldn't be standing miles apart, glancing at one another from a distance. He'd know what was going on with him, and Vanessa, and Asher. He'd be there for his own grandfather's funeral.

But then he remembers how suffocating it was. He remembers the fights and the scraping to get by and the blood on his knuckles. Sure, living on the road isn't glamorous. Sometimes he sleeps on the ground. Sometimes he bends the rules just to eat for the day. But at least he's his own person.

At least he's free.

"We going, or what?"

Her chipper tone pulls him out of his own head. He nods, climbing into the passenger seat and closing the door behind him.

When she pulls out of the parking lot and heads towards the interstate, leaving the Sundance strip behind them, he exhales a sigh of relief. The girl glances at him from the driver's seat, drawing her attention from the road momentarily to give him a light smile.

He decides he won't hang around long. This is nothing special—just his ticket out of town once again and another hitchhike on his list of dozens. He'll just have her drive him out of Austin, then they'll part ways and nothing will come of it. Nothing to comment on. Nothing to take advantage of.

Just another day on the road, belonging nowhere.