Harley Keener sighed as he fiddled with the stubborn radio knobs on his beat-up Subaru Outback, a relic of a car that rattled in harmony with every bump in the road. His night had been an unmitigated disaster, the kind of awkward evening that begged to be turned into a viral "Worst Date Ever" TikTok. Yet, as much as the dating scene in Rose Hill felt like a nightmare, he knew home would offer no sanctuary tonight.
His mom's new boyfriend was undoubtedly sprawled across the couch by now, greasy feet propped up on the coffee table, one hand nursing a beer and the other flicking ashes from a cigarette and the remote firmly wedged under the guy's oil-stained Levi'd ass.
Harley planned on hiding out in his shed and ignoring the new moocher all night if he had to, but it was not the most ideal ending to his already stressful day. He wished he had people around. Tony had sent a cryptic text early that morning asking if all was well but had been radio-silent ever since. The shed would be a welcome refuge tonight, but it would be a lonely, too-quiet one.
The Subaru hit some rough patches of road and rattled Harley's cell phone in the cupholder. He glanced down and saw that he had missed notifications and wondered idly if Tony had finally gotten back to him. So his eyes weren't exactly on the road when there was a flash of movement ahead. Thinking absently of the terrified deer he had knocked off the road last year, Harley hit his brakes. And then Harley almost swallowed his own heart as it tried to escape out of his chest because he saw it was in fact a person, not Bambi, darting out into the road ahead.
"Fuck!" he cursed, slamming the brakes, his heart leaping into his throat as he veered hard to avoid a collision. The Subaru skidded over the gravel shoulder, straddling the edge of a shallow ditch. He barely managed to bring the car to a stop before the figure slammed into his door, a sickening thud echoing as they crumpled to the ground.
"Oh, shit. Oh, man. Oh, God." Harley's heart raced as he fumbled with the door handle, panic clawing at him. He cracked the door, then swung it open, stepping out to find a boy lying on the narrow gravel shoulder, groaning and shielding his face from the car's harsh lights.
"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" Harley's words tumbled out in a rush, his voice shaky. "I can't believe I hit you, I mean, you hit me… or I hit you… Do you need an ambulance?" Kneeling beside the kid, Harley's eyes darted over him. The boy was dressed strangely, perhaps in a work uniform? Had he hit a kid on his way back from a late night at work? That would suck and certainly had Harley beat in the competition of shitty evenings.
Mud and blood smeared the fabric and there was a raggedness to it that sent alarm bells ringing in Harley's mind. He sucked in a breath. "Where are you hurt?" Harley reached out a hand to help, and the boy flinched away, attempting to stagger upright, only to crumple back against the hood of Harley's car, his face contorted in pain.
Harley winced, steadying the boy. "Hey, whoa, take it easy! Are you okay? I mean… well, obviously not. What the hell is wrong with me? Of course you're not okay. Here, let me get my phone."
"No!" the boy's voice was sharp, his face pale as he looked up at Harley, dark eyes flashing with an intensity that startled him. Harley took in the kid's face—he couldn't be more than a couple years younger than himself, maybe fifteen? There was something off, something fierce in the boy's gaze despite his injuries.
"Let me help you out," Harley offered again, his voice softer, almost instinctively protective.
"I'm fine," the boy hissed, a pained urgency underscoring his words, "get in your car. It's not safe."
Harley raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, no kidding. You just got hit by a car."
"No. It's not safe for you," the boy insisted, his voice dropping to a strained whisper, his gaze darting to the dark trees around them.
"Did you hit your head?" Harley frowned at the boy and wondered which part of him had ricocheted off the car door. "How about I give you a ride?" Harley thought a trip straight to the ER might be a better idea than hanging out on the side of the road waiting for an ambulance. At least, that way he would feel like he was doing something. He hated feeling useless. Harley hated feeling useless, and the boy's pain gnawed at him, stirring a protective instinct he hadn't felt in a long time.
"Yes! Okay, just get back in the car. Please," the boy croaked desperately and actually grabbed Harley by the arms and shoved him back into the driver's seat. Shoved him! What the hell? Even with all the obvious injuries and pain, the kid was strong.
Harley barely had time to process the kid's strength or the desperate fear in his eyes before the boy slipped into the passenger seat beside him, slamming the door.
Before Harley could ask a single question, a sharp, deafening pop rang out. His side mirror shattered, the glass spraying across the ground.
Was that a gunshot?
"Go!" the kid shouted, his voice hoarse and desperate.
Without a second thought, Harley slammed on the gas, the Subaru roaring down the empty road, dust kicking up in their wake.