I cursed under my breath.
Then did a u-turn in the parking lot.
She sat a little straighter. “Wait. Where are you going?”
The truck jerked as I cut the turn too fast. This was pure insanity. “Weare going to the lake house.”
TWELVE
Miranda
My stomach muscles clamped so tight they throbbed in pain.
Jack ran a hand over his forehead. “I can’t—this is—this is crazy, Miranda.”
He fumbled for words as I fought the urge to defend myself.
“Places like that aren’t safe.”
Safer than home.
I wanted to smack myself for calling Chris’ househome.
Kacey and I didn’t have a home. We never did. Chris’ house was supposed to be a temporary landing place. Nothing more.
I felt like the worst mother on the planet. I had no plan. How was I supposed tomakea plan when I had no home, car, money, or job? When Brenda was across the country and my only friend lived across the street from my abuser? When my only other ally was nine-hundred miles away and had as muchin his wallet as I did? When the father of my son had rejected us?
I swallowed. “The women’s shelters are a lot nicer. They all have waitlists though.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He flipped his turning signal on as we merged onto a highway. Warm air blew from the vents. The high-pitched hum of tires against asphalt and the occasional bump filled the silence that had engulfed us. Kacey was quiet. I hoped he fell asleep. Between the busted tire, late lunch, and crossing into another time zone—he was probably exhausted.
“Is no one there for you two in Ohio? I could buy you a plane ticket home. You can take some time to think things over.”
I scoffed. Did he honestly think I would remarry him after what he did? “There’snothingto think over.”
“Okay, fine. Obviously, you don’t live in Chicago though and you need help getting home.”
Even Jack was using the wordhome.Which, why wouldn’t he? Four years ago, he made it crystal clear our home wasn’t together. Bitterness stirred in me every time I remembered.
“We aren’t going back to Ohio.”
“Do you talk to your mom at all now? Could you call her?”
I shook my head.
“Okay,” Jack sighed, hesitating over his next words. “I’m—almost afraid to ask…are you running from someone?”
I blinked, the motion sending a couple tears down my cheeks. I swiped them with the back of my hand. My throat worked conflicting jobs. Let the words out, keep the sobs in. “Yes, we are.”
I hoped the knowledge would gut him. Hoped he’d feel a fraction of the pain I’d shouldered the last four years. Hoped it would stir a flicker of regret in his stone-cold heart.
“From the person who hurt you?”
“Yes.” I took a deep breath through my nose, fighting to still the tremble in my lips. Was the emotion fear? Indignation? Heart-shattering grief? I couldn’t decide. I gripped the side of the passenger seat as my thighs bounced with tension.
Jack stayed silent for a few beats. My ex-husband was anything but an idiot. He knew how to read a situation when there were hardly any clues. He probably had me figured out while we were still sitting in the meeting. I glanced his direction only long enough to see his fingers flex around the steering wheel. When he spoke, his voice was low, scraping with intensity. “When did it happen?”
I’d always known Jack was gutsy, but he obviously had no speck of conscience left. My question burst out of nowhere. “Whydo you care all of a sudden?”
