Ivy slunk to the hallway just as headlights shined on the kitchen wall. A car had pulled up to the trailer. In the dim light, she could see her dolly lying facedown on the table, and she longed to go grab her. “Now who the hell is this?” her mother snapped, her tone making Ivy jump. She continued to her room without the doll, shutting the door behind her.
Water landed in the pot on her bed as the rain continued to pound the rooftop and thunder crashed in the distance, and Ivy imagined it sounded like this in a rainforest. She’d learned about them on TV when Momma was out at night, and she let her eyes close as her mind conjured beautiful images of exotic flowers and thick green trees.
The sound of arguing reached her through the door. A man’s voice, big and loud, booming through the trailer. Her mother yelling, clearly upset, angry.
Ivy put her ear close to the door and heard the man’s distant growl, “…you’ll be sorry you ever did this shit to me.”
The sound of breaking glass was followed by her mother screaming like Ivy had never heard her scream before. “Ivy, run! Get out of the house! Get out, get out!”
Ivy opened her door. A bright golden glow came from the kitchen as a breeze swept out of her room past her bare ankles. Her mother’s frantic screams raged over the roar of the flames.
“Mommy!” yelled Ivy as she headed toward the kitchen. Suddenly, a bright orange flame licked around the corner. Ivy raced back to her room and slammed the door. She had to get out like Momma said. She turned to her window.
She couldn’t reach the lock. The smell of smoke was permeating her room, and she knew she had to find a way out, fast. Frantically, she yanked the kitchen chair from beneath the bedsheet and used it to climb on, her small hands struggling to make the latches on the window move in sync. She’d nearly gotten it when she spotted a man she didn’t know on the other side of the glass, bathed in orange light from the fire.
He was staring at her, watching her desperate attempt to open the window, and she banged on the glass. “Help me!” she wailed to the stranger. He came closer to the trailer, almost close enough to touch, but made no move to help her, firelight reflecting off a metal star on his chest. He was a policeman. Weren’t policemen supposed to help?
Ivy jumped down. Where was Momma? She hadn’t heard her mother’s cries in several minutes. She rushed to the door and grabbed the knob, the hot metal instantly searing her palm. She yanked her hand back. The smoke was terrible now, the room growing hotter by the moment, and she looked frantically around the room.
The closet.
She dropped to the ground to avoid the smoke, and crawled on her hands and knees to the closet, throwing aside stuffed animals and dirty clothes, feeling for the latch she knew was there but finding nothing.
Flames leapt up the inside of her bedroom door and she screamed. She had to find it now, had to get out like Momma said. She slid her hand along the wood, smoke filling her room more quickly than she would have thought possible. The metal latch collided with her fingers and she grabbed onto it, lifting the square panel that gave her access to the space between the trailer and the ground. She fell out head-first, landing in the mud on the side of her face and bracing her body with her forearm.
It was cooler here, much cooler, but the roar of the fire was frighteningly loud, and she knew she wouldn’t be safe here for long. She crawled through the muck to the side of the trailer opposite the man, and yanked back the plastic lattice. She squeezed through the opening between it and a stack of cinder blocks supporting the mobile home, and ran into the night, alone.
CHAPTER2
Earlier That Day
All this is going to be mine.
Teslyn McGregor smiled softly as she walked through the small galley kitchen, her finger trailing along the simple white countertop. There wasn’t a lot of space for cooking, no less entertaining, but those features weren’t on her must-have list anyway.
When you were raised in a leaky, rundown trailer on the wrong side of a town brimming with poverty, you prioritized warmth, dryness, and safety over ample storage and stylish decor.
She’d waited years for this opportunity, scrimping and saving every dime and imagining a solid foundation. For as long as she could remember, that was all she desired—a rock on which she could set her feet and stand, unwavering. The new job and the fresh start she’d dreamed about here in Atlanta were the icing on the cake.
A slim doorway led to a blank rectangle of a room, white like the rest of the empty condominium. Three double-hung windows overlooked a parking lot, their second-story sills high enough to be out of reach of passersby, and she sighed contentedly as she imagined a gentle summer breeze blowing through their frames. She could even keep the windows open while she slept.
The single bedroom was just large enough for a queen-sized bed and a small dresser, but overall the space was more than adequate for her needs. It was in a good part of town, just over a bustling restaurant where she could eat brunch with friends like she used to with Rayne and Mary back in Belton, Texas.
In some ways, it would be hard starting a new life in a new town, but she was excited for the challenge. Besides, her friends had vowed to keep in touch. They’d even talked about a girls’ weekend in Atlanta once Teslyn had her own place, and now it was happening.
To most people, the condo may have looked small or ordinary. But to her, it was nothing short of a miracle. Yes, she could see herself here. It checked every box that mattered. Her phone rang as she grinned and faced the Realtor. “It’s perfect. I’ll take it.” She pulled out her phone, her face falling abruptly as she read the caller ID.Marilyn.
She swallowed the sour taste in her mouth.
Seeing her name was like being kicked in the belly. Would her mother always have this hold over her, no matter the distance Teslyn had worked so hard to put between them?
She silenced the call and forced herself to focus on the salesman, who was suggesting they write a formal offer. He was unusual-looking, with short-cropped red hair and large ears, along with a sharply chiseled face that still didn’t manage to make him attractive.
Her phone buzzed in her palm a second time. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually this popular,” she muttered. Her laughter faded when she saw Marilyn’s name for the second time, and knew her phone would continue to ring until the other woman got what she wanted. “Would you excuse me? I need to take this.”
He nodded, and stepped out of the kitchen while she connected the call. “What’s up?” she asked.
“That’s a fine way to greet your mother.”
