He continued facing me toward my one treasure. Kacey was throwing specks of grass into the air as the wind lifted beautiful curls off his forehead. The sweet baby had no idea all the turmoil his venture into this world had caused. I never wanted him to find out.
Chris’ grip tightened, and I squirmed. “You wouldn’t have him without me. Better not forget that.”
He let go, and I stumbled forward a step. Had he pushed me? I couldn’t tell.
He climbed the front steps. “You know what? I think I’m gonna go watch the game at Devon’s house.” I didn’t turn to look at him because tears were streaming down my face. Watching Kacey play was safer. “I spend the whole day trying to get a job to make sure I can keep a roof over your heads, and you want to leave?” I jumped when Chris kicked the screen door and strung together some choice words. “An ungrateful bitch is what you are.”
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I tucked them under my chin.
A few beats of silence passed. I took a deep breath through my nose, pressing my lips together. I didn’t know what time the game started, but I hoped it was soon.
His footsteps descended down the stairs again. “Look at me, Miranda.”
I turned. Brave face activated.
He shook his head when he saw the tears. His voice was softer, and some of the rigidity had melted from his posture. “Listen, sorry for losing my temper. You can do whatever you want. It’s your life. But two things you won’t be taking.” He lifted his fingers as he counted them off. “Any of my money. I won’t financially support a stupid vacation.” Then he nodded toward my son. “Or him. After everything I’ve done, he’s as much mine as yours.”
When the screen door bounced behind him, I collapsed onto the front steps, forcing down waves of nausea.
Chris was right; he’d done everything for me and Kacey. We would be lost without him. But in exchange for his provision, I’d unknowingly sold my soul.
I couldn’t need Chris anymore. I had to make my own way.
As terrifying as it was, Texas was my only option left.
And I didn’t need Chris’ permission.
It wasn’t a stupid vacation.
TWO
Miranda
Chris’ obsession with credit card offers drove me to the brink of insanity nearly every day. Between collection agencies and automated text messaging systems, my phone rang constantly. He usedmynumber on the sign up forms. There were probably some rich bank men on a beach somewhere, sipping margaritas because of suckers like Chris.
But tonight, one of Chris’ stupid cards would be the answer to my problems. I’d found one in the back of our junk drawer. A quick phone call proved it was active and not maxed out yet. Five hundred dollars was plenty of money to make the nine-hundred mile drive to Texas, as long as nothing happened to the Corolla.
While Chris was at Devon’s house, I’d packed everything. Clothes, extra food, toys, charger. All our necessities were ready.
Except the credit card.
I silently pulled it from the junk drawer and stuck it in my pocket on the way out at two o’clock in the morning.
After two days of prep, my plan was officially underway.
It was unnaturally cold for early April. About forty-one degrees. My teeth chattered as I buckled half-sleeping Kacey in. His groggy voice whined about the cold. I glanced at the front door, whispering, “Shh, Kacey, it’s okay.”
Idling the car would be stupid, so I grabbed an extra blanket and tucked it around Kacey. When I pulled the keys out of my pocket, the credit card clattered to the ground. I hissed a curse, fighting the adrenaline surging through me. Couldn’t leave without the credit card, but every moment I delayed risked our discovery. I collapsed to my hands and knees, peering under the car.
Where was that thing?
I’d barely breathed the last few hours. Wouldn’t feel better until I was crossing state lines. I’d looked over my shoulder a hundred times and fully expected my schemes to be hacked to pieces at any moment.
After patting around the cold concrete, I chanced pulling out my phone and flipped on the flashlight. Two seconds with the light and I’d found my ticket to freedom, standing up to get in the car and make my escape.
A figure stood at the rear of the car.
I gasped.
