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Chapter 1
Dolly
Holy shit, it’s happening. I’ve been praying for this day since I turned thirteen years old when Dad graduated from using his fists on Mom to using them on me as well. For the first time ever, Dad forgot to set the house alarm—the one neither Mom nor I have the code to—when he got called away for an emergency, and Mom is asleep. And since I turned eighteen today, there’s not a damn thing that can keep me here, not unless Dad or one of his buddies finds me.
I slip out of bed, leaving the lights off in case Mom wakes up or Dad comes back, terrified of the hell he’ll rain down on me if I get caught. I stumble my way through my closet, searching for the duffle bag I’ve kept hidden for months, anticipating this day. I finally find the clothes I had folded and placed on top of the bag long ago to camouflage it in case my parents searched my closet.
I dress quickly, hoping the clothes I picked out—black skinny jeans and a giant, oversized hooded sweatshirt—will be enough to disguise me. I want to look unremarkable enough that no one will be able to give a description of me once Dad comes looking for me when he figures out I’ve left.
I stuff my long blonde hair into a dark beanie, step into and lace up my running shoes, then loop my duffel bag strap over my shoulder and around my body. It’s stuffed to the gills with all of my necessities to start my new life—as many changes of clothes as I could fit, plus toiletries, some bottles of water, and a picture of me and Mom when I was younger—so it’s going to be hard, but worth it, making a run for it carrying this thing.
I shove my cell phone under my pillow, wishing I could take it with me. Dad has one of those life-tracking apps on it, and he’d know exactly where to find me within seconds if he decides to open the app at any point tonight, which is almost guaranteed. With it under my pillow, he’ll think I’m still at home, and hopefully, it will buy me more time to get away.
As quietly as I can, I tip-toe out of my bedroom, pausing to make sure Mom didn’t wake up after hearing my door squeak since my parents sleep with their door open. When I hear nothing but silence from down the hall, I close my door softly behind me.
With my heart pounding, I continue through the dark hallway, past the family room, and up to the front door. Gripping the door handle, I turn around to survey the prison I’ve called home for the last eighteen years.
I hope I never see it again.
I hold my breath as I unlock and pull open the front door, only releasing it once I’ve stepped outside. Adrenaline courses through my veins at the thrill of being able to do so without the house alarm going off, waking the whole neighborhood, and alerting my parents. I swear I can taste freedom in the crisp, frigid air.
Dad never trusted me to have a house key, and I don’t know where Mom keeps hers, so I can’t lock up behind me. I know he will immediately go on guard when he gets home and finds the door unlocked, which means I need to get as far away as possible as quickly as possible.
And so I run. I run harder and faster than I ever have before. Sticking to the darkest side of each street, I duck behind trees or cars every time I see a flash of headlights. My heart beats wildly, and I wheeze for breath as I sprint, but I also feel lighter and freer right now than at any other point in my life.
Finally, I see the bright lights of the truck stop ahead with several long rows of parked eighteen-wheelers seemingly to choose from. I want to scream with exhilaration when I see them, overwhelming joy coursing through me, so much so that I’m nearly lightheaded. I’m so, so, so close to getting out of here and putting more miles between me and the living hell that has been my life.
There are a few women in various stages of dress weaving in and out between the trucks, stopping to talk to the drivers through their windows or doors, trying their luck before they move on to the next one. Dad calls them lot lizards, and he would rant every time he had to patrol this stop and arrest them. He said they were like roaches—new ones popping up as soon as the old ones were locked up. He didn’t appreciate the one and only time I tried to speak up and question why what they were doing was wrong.
Her body, her choice.
My back was bruised for a week after he punished me, screaming about how he wasn’t going to let me turn into a whore.
Fucking prick.
As nervous as it makes me—enough to be sick to my stomach—I know I’m desperate enough to do what these ladies are doing to find a ride out of here.
Whatever it takes, I repeat on a loop inside my head.
Wyatt
I’m so ready to get home—not that there’s anything waiting for me there other than my mama. She’s been needing more and more help as she gets up in years, especially since Pops died. She’s the one good thing I have left, and I don’t much like leaving her for so long. So even though I live in a shit-box apartment after my fiancée left me with fuck-all, it’s still better than spending what feels like an eternity alone inside this cramped truck cab away from the only family I have left.
Thinking about my ex always puts me in a foul mood, and I should know better by now. It’s not even her, really. It’s the loss of the future I had been dreaming of since I became a man.
Crystal wasn’t all that nice or sweet to me, but a guy like me doesn’t have a whole lot of options. At six-foot-four and 280 pounds, plus the fact that I spend the majority of my time on the road, women aren’t exactly knocking down my door and lining up to jump into bed with me.
We had our good times, though, and I was more than ready to settle down and start a family. I thought that’s what she wanted, too, until I came home to her packing her bags. She told me she was pregnant with another man’s baby and was running off with him.
That was four years ago, and I’m still torn up about her having a baby with someone else—a baby I wanted so much for myself.
I push thoughts of her and my shitty apartment aside as I go through my pre-trip inspection carefully, then hop into the cab. I’ve got another long night of driving to get through before my next stop, and I’m ready to hit the road. I check the dash, put the truck in gear, and start pulling out of my spot.
I’m halfway out when I spot a young girl tearing across the parking lot, waving her arms in the air like a lunatic. I have to slam on the brakes when she comes to a dead stop inches away from the front of my truck. Jesus, I would have flattened her if I hadn’t been paying attention.
Chapter 2
Dolly
