My free hand drifted to my stomach, still flat beneath my hoodie, but holding everything that mattered now. Our baby. The thought still made my head spin if I lingered on it too long—that somewhere inside me, cells were dividing, a heart was forming, a future was taking shape. Our future.
A future Dennis would try to destroy if he got the chance.
The tremor started in my fingers, then spread up my arms to my shoulders, until my whole body was vibrating with it. I clenched my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering.
Burke killed the engine but didn’t move to get out. Instead, he turned to face me, his eyes serious in a way they rarely were. “Listen to me,” he said. “Whatever happens in there, whatever the judge decides—we’ve got a plan. You’re not going back to that house. Not now, not ever.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The nausea was back, a sick, rolling wave that had me pressing my palm harder against my stomach. Eight weeks along, and the morning sickness showed no signs of letting up. Or maybe it was just fear, dressed up in physical symptoms I couldn’t control.
“Hey,” Burke said, catching my chin with gentle fingers. “Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. That’s it.”
I followed his lead, drawing air in slowly, then releasing it even slower. The technique worked for about three seconds before my lungs seized again, tight with the memory of Dennis’s fist connecting with my ribs, the crack that might have been the sound of something breaking.
“It’s okay to be scared,” Burke said quietly. “But don’t let him win before we’ve even started.”
I closed my eyes, letting his words wash over me. He was right—I’d spent my whole life being afraid of Dennis, of what he’d do if I stepped out of line, if I tried to leave, if I showed any sign of having a life that didn’t revolve around his moods. That fear had kept me alive, in its way. But it had also kept me small, kept me from seeing past the next beating to a future where I might actually be happy.
Not anymore.
I opened my eyes, meeting Burke’s steady gaze. “I’m ready,” I said, and was surprised to find I meant it.
He studied my face for a long moment, then nodded. “Then let’s do this.”
We got out of the truck together, the cold air hitting me like a slap. I zipped my hoodie higher, wishing I’d brought a heavier coat. Burke shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around my shoulders without a word, the warmth and his scent wrapping around me like armor.
“I’m not cold,” I protested weakly.
“You’re shaking,” he pointed out, then slung an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to his side. “Come on. Rawley’s probably already inside, saving us seats.”
We started across the parking lot, my steps slowing as we approached the wide stone steps leading up to the courthouse entrance. My palms were slick with sweat despite the chill, my breathing shallow and quick. Each step felt like walking toward the edge of a cliff.
“Remember when I told you about the time he broke my fingers?” I asked suddenly, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “I was sixteen. He caught me filling out a college application online. Said if I was smart enough for college, I was smart enough to type with one hand.”
Burke’s arm tightened around me. “I remember.”
“He made me watch while he did it,” I continued, the memory rising sharp and clear. “Held my hand flat on the kitchen table and used a rolling pin. One at a time, starting with the pinky. Said it would ‘build character.’”
I felt Burke go rigid beside me, a low sound rumbling in his chest that wasn’t quite a growl. “He won’t touch you again,” he said, voice tight with barely controlled rage. “I swear to God, Danny, if he so much as looks at you wrong—“
“I know,” I cut him off. “I know you won’t let him.”
But the fear was still there, a cold stone in my gut. Because Dennis had always found a way—around rules, past locks, through whatever barriers people tried to put between us. He’dpromised, over and over, that if I ever left, he’d find me. That he’d make me sorry.
And now he had more reason than ever.
My hand moved to my stomach again, a gesture that was becoming habit. Protect. Defend. Keep safe. The instincts were new but powerful, rising up alongside the fear to create something that felt almost like courage.
Burke noticed, his eyes softening. “How’s the little one today?” he asked, deliberately lightening the mood.
I managed a small smile. “Making me want to throw up every five minutes. So, normal.”
He laughed, the sound breaking some of the tension between us. “Kid’s got timing, I’ll give them that.”
We’d reached the bottom of the courthouse steps. A few people were milling around the entrance—a woman in a sharp suit talking on her phone, an older man with a cane making slow progress up the stairs, a sheriff’s deputy leaning against the railing, watching the parking lot with bored eyes.
None of them were Dennis. Not yet.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. My legs felt like they were filled with sand, each step requiring more effort than the last. But Burke was beside me, his hand a warm weight at the small of my back, his presence a bulwark against the tide of fear threatening to sweep me away.
