The air outside is cold and gray, dawn not yet committed to being morning. Lottie’s SUV waits in the drive with the headlights off. My truck stays parked near the garage, keys on the kitchen counter beside my phone. I don’t take it. A truck can be recognized. Followed. Seen.
Lottie says the SUV is cleaner. Different plates. No trackers. Full tank.
She says this like women fleeing men should have a checklist and she has done it enough times to laminate one.
Maybe she has.
That thought makes my skin prickle.
August climbs into the back with sleepy confusion and a backpack full of dinosaurs. Lottie buckles him in like she has done this before. She gives Blue Rex a seat belt made from the middle strap.
“Judge needs restraint,” she says.
August nods solemnly. “He bites criminals.”
“Smart judge.”
I stand beside the open passenger door, frozen.
The house is right there.
Derby is right there.
All I have to do is turn around.
Lottie walks around the hood and stops in front of me.
“No shame in changing your mind,” she says.
I laugh softly. “You said we had to go.”
“I said you had to decide. I ain’t Jeremy. I ain’t Derby. I ain’t Legend. I’m not putting you in a car with your own yes gagged.”
My eyes sting all over again.
Choice.
Always choice.
Why does it feel like a knife every time someone gives it to me?
“If I stay,” I whisper, “he will go after Jeremy again.”
“Probably.”
“If I leave, he will think I ran from him.”
“Probably.”
“That isn’t helpful.”
“Truth rarely is, but at least it don’t wear cologne.”
A broken laugh slips out.
Then I look at the house one more time.
“I’m saving him,” I say.