CHAPTER 3
I follow Ms. Lucy’s side-by-side in my Honda, driving slowly down a winding dirt path that leads away from the main road. My knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel, and I keep glancing in the rearview mirror out of habit.
“Mommy, where are we going?” Sophie asks from her car seat, clutching Mr. Hoppy to her chest.
“We’re going to see a little house, baby. Ms. Lucy says we can stay there for a bit.”
“Is it far?”
“No, sweetheart. We’re almost there.”
The path curves around a cluster of oak trees, revealing a sprawling ranch with a large farmhouse in the distance. Ms. Lucy steers her vehicle toward a smaller structure set apart from the main house, a tiny cottage with a covered porch and white trim
As we pull up behind Ms. Lucy, I see an older man step out from the side-by-side. My muscles tense automatically.
“Who’s that man?” Sophie whispers, her voice small.
“I think his name is Jake. But Ms. Lucy is here, so it’s okay.” I try to sound more confident than I feel.
I turn off the engine but sit for a moment, taking deep breaths. Then I step outside the car to grab Sophie. I hold her tight an extra moment.
“Ready?” I ask, smoothing her hair.
She nods against my chest.
We step away from the car just as Ms. Lucy approaches with the man trailing behind her.
“Bailey, Sophie, this is Jake. He helps me run the ranch,” Ms. Lucy says, her voice warm and reassuring.
Jake keeps a respectful distance, his weathered face breaking into a kind smile. “Pleasure to meet you ladies.”
He extends his hand toward me, and I hesitate before reaching out to shake it briefly, pulling back as quickly as politeness allows. Sophie wraps herself around my legs, half-hiding behind me as she peeks out at Jake.
“Hi there, little miss,” he says gently, crouching down to Sophie’s eye level but staying where he is. “That’s a mighty fine bunny you’ve got.”
Sophie tightens her grip on my legs, pressing her face against my jeans.
“She’s a bit shy,” I explain, resting my hand protectively on her head.
“That’s okay,” he says, straightening up. “Takes time to get comfortable in new places.”
Ms. Lucy gestures toward the cottage. “Why don’t I show you around?”
I follow Ms. Lucy toward the cottage while Jake hangs back at the side-by-side, giving us space. Sophie clutches my hand, her tiny fingers wrapped around mine as we approach the front door.
“Here we are,” she announces, gesturing to the gorgeous navy blue door with matching window shutters. The paint looks fresh, and small potted plants flank either side of the entrance.
She turns the knob and pushes the door open, stepping aside to let us enter first. Sophie and I cross the threshold, and I catch my breath.
The living room welcomes us with a comfortable-looking sofa, a coffee table with a small vase of wildflowers, and a rocking chair by the window. Everything is clean and tidy, with warm touches that make it feel like a home rather than just a shelter.
“Kitchen’s right through here,” she says, leading us through an archway.
The kitchen opens up from the living area, with a small dining table set for three. I notice the refrigerator humming quietly, and Ms. Lucy opens it to reveal shelves stocked with food. Milk, eggs, fruits, vegetables.
“Pantry’s full too,” she adds, pulling open a narrow door to show us staples like pasta, rice, and canned goods.
I feel Sophie squeeze my hand.
“Bedroom’s just down the hall.”
We follow her to a cozy bedroom with a queen-sized bed covered in light blue comforter. Fresh pillows are propped against the headboard, and a small lamp sits on a bedside table.
“For us?” Sophie asks, looking up at me.
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
The bathroom is the last stop on our tour—clean white tiles, a shower/tub combo, and a shelf holding new toothbrushes still in their packaging, toothpaste, and the fluffiest towels I’ve ever seen.
Something breaks inside me. My vision blurs with tears, and I quickly wipe them away. Shame crashes over me. Needing this much help, being so desperate, bringing my daughter to rely on a stranger’s kindness.
Ms. Lucy notices immediately. She stands nearby, not touching me, but her presence is steady.
“Everyone needs help sometimes,” she says softly. “No shame in that.”
“I don’t know—” I struggle to find words.
“You don’t need to know right now. Just breathe.”
Sophie shifts against my leg, raising her arms in a silent request. I bend down and scoop her up, her little body fitting perfectly against mine as she rests her face in the crook of my neck. Her warm breath against my skin, and I feel her relax slightly as I hold her close.
“I’ll leave you two to get settled in,” she says, taking a step toward the door. “Take your time. There’s no rush for anything.”
“Ms. Lucy,” I call after her, my voice catching. “Thank you. For all of this. I don’t know how to—”
She just gives me a gentle smile. “No need for that. I’ve been in shoes not too different from yours, once upon a time. Life has a way of throwing curveballs.” She adjusts her glasses and adds, “I’m just up the road if you need anything. Anything at all. Please don’t hesitate.”
And then she’s gone, the door closing softly behind her. I hear the side-by-side engine start up, the sound growing fainter as her and jake drive away. Then nothing. The silence presses in from all sides, thick and unfamiliar. No traffic noise, no neighbors, no familiar sounds of the city.
“It’s too quiet,” I tell Sophie, giving her a little bounce in my arms. “Let’s turn on the TV.”
I set her down, and she stands in the middle of the living room, looking warily around the open space before her. Her eyes dart from the couch to the unfamiliar decorations on the walls, her little fingers still clutching Mr. Hoppy tightly.
“Can we sit there?” she asks, pointing to the couch but making no move toward it.
“Of course we can, baby.”
I take her hand and lead her to the sofa. “Here, you sit right here with Mr. Hoppy, and I’ll find us something to watch.”
She climbs onto the couch but perches on the edge, as if afraid to fully commit to being comfortable. I grab the remote and sit beside her, pulling her gently against my side.
“See? It’s a nice couch, isn’t it?”
She nods hesitantly and gradually allows herself to sink back into the cushions as I find a cartoon channel. As her attention shifts to the colorful characters on screen, my eyes move methodically around the room. Front door. Two windows in the living room. Kitchen window over the sink. Back door off the kitchen and there’s a window in the bedroom.
Six possible exits. I memorize each one, calculating how quickly we could reach them from different points in the house.
The cartoon plays on, but Sophie’s attention starts to drift. She shifts against my side, fidgeting with Mr. Hoppy’s ears.
“Mommy, can I color?”
“Of course, baby.” I get up from the couch and walk over to our duffle bag by the door. The zipper makes a harsh sound in the quiet space as I open the front pocket where I’ve kept her art supplies. I pull out her well-worn coloring book and the box of crayons.
“Here you go, sweetie.” I hand them to her, and she slides down to sit cross-legged on the floor, using the coffee table. She opens the book to a half-finished picture of a unicorn and carefully selects a purple crayon.
“I need to use the bathroom real quick, okay? I’ll be right back.”
She looks up, her crayon pausing mid-stroke. “Promise?”
“Promise. I’m just going right there.” I point to the bathroom door, making sure she can see exactly where I’m going. “You keep coloring, and I’ll be right back”
She nods and returns to her coloring, her little tongue poking out in concentration as she works on filling in the unicorn’s hair.
I close the bathroom door quietly behind me.
The mirror above the sink reflects a stranger back at me. My eyes look hollow, and the yellowish-green bruise along my jawline stands out against my pale skin. I touch it gently, wincing at the tenderness. Matt’s rage, still marking me days later.
My throat tightens as I stare at myself. This woman in the mirror. This broken, running woman, I barely recognize her. Where did Bailey go? The girl who graduated with honors, who had plans, who laughed easily and trusted freely?
The weight of everything crashes down at once. The running. The fear. The constant looking over my shoulder. Dragging Sophie from the only home she’s known. Accepting charity from a stranger.
I clamp my hand over my mouth as the first sob escapes, muffling the sound so Sophie won’t hear. My legs give out, and I sink down onto the closed toilet lid, my body folding in on itself.
The tears come fast now, streaming down my face. I press both hands against my mouth, shoulders shaking with the effort to keep quiet as I break apart. The sobs rack my body.
I allow myself this moment, just this one moment, to feel everything I’ve been holding back. The terror when Matt’s face changed that night. The desperation as I packed our things while he was passed out drunk. The paralyzing fear during every mile of our drive south.
My chest heaves as I struggle to catch my breath between silent sobs. I rock slightly, arms wrapped around myself now, trying to hold the pieces together.
Sophie can’t see me like this. She needs me to be strong. To be whole. To know what to do next.
I press my palms against my eyes, willing the tears to stop. Just breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like the therapist once told me.
After a few minutes, I stand and splash cold water on my face.
I have to be strong.
“Sophie, baby, do you want to take a nap?” I call out as I step back into the living room, willing my voice to sound calmer than I feel. But the space she was just occupying is empty, her crayons and coloring book abandoned. “Sophie?”
My heart starts to race. “Sophie!” I check the kitchen, the bedroom, even look under the bed. “Baby, where are you?”
The front door is slightly ajar. Oh God. My chest constricts as I burst outside. “Sophie!” My voice breaks with panic as I spin around, scanning the yard.
“Mommy, over here!”
The relief nearly brings me to my knees. I follow her voice around the side of the house. And there she is, standing by the wooden white fence, her little hand reaching through to pet a beautiful light brown horse that’s leaned its head down to her level.
“Sophie Marie!” I rush over and scoop her up, holding her tight. “You scared me so bad. You can’t go outside without telling Mommy, remember?”
“I’m sorry,” she says, her bottom lip trembling. “But Mommy, look. The horsie came to say hi to me.” The horse bobs it’s head up and down, making her giggle.
I’m still trying to calm my racing heart, but seeing the joy and smile on her face makes my heart constrict with every feeling imaginable. “She’s very pretty, but next time you have to ask before going outside, okay? Promise?”
“I promise.” She reaches for the horse again. “Can I keep petting her? Please?”
I hold her a second longer and then set her down and kneel next to her keeping my arm around her waist. “Okay, but be gentle.”
“Her name’s Buttercup,” a voice comes from behind us.
I whip around at the sound of the voice, my arm flying up instinctively to shield Sophie behind me. My heart hammers against my ribs as I back us both against the fence, putting as much distance between us and the voice as possible.
“I’m sorry,” Jake says, stopping dead in his tracks. His hands raise slowly, palms out. “I didn’t mean to startle you ma’am.”
My breath comes in short gasps. Sophie clings to my legs, peeking around at him with wide eyes.
“It’s okay,” I manage to say, though my voice shakes. “We were just—we were just looking at the horse.”
Jake stays where he is, a good fifteen feet away. He doesn’t move closer, and lower’s his hands. “Buttercup’s a friendly old girl. Been with us for almost twelve years now.”
I nod, unable to form words as my pulse gradually slows. My raised arm trembles slightly before I force it down, embarrassed by my reaction but still on alert.
“She likes apple treats,” Jake continues, his voice deliberately gentle. “If the little one wants to feed her sometime, I can show y’all how.”
Sophie tugs at my shirt. “Can we feed the horsie one time, Mommy?”
I swallow hard, still keeping myself between them. “Maybe another time, sweetie.”
He nods in understanding. “I’ll be heading back to the barn now. You ladies enjoy the rest of your day. Ms. Lucy’s got my number if you need anything.”
He tips his hat slightly, then turns and walks away, his footsteps crunching on the gravel path. He doesn’t look back, giving us the space I desperately need.
When he’s far enough away, I exhale shakily and kneel to face my daughter.
“Are you okay, baby?” I whisper, brushing her hair back from her face.
“Why were you scared, Mommy?” Her innocent question pierces straight through me.
“I just got surprised, that’s all.” I force a smile, trying to hide how my hands are still trembling.
Buttercup nuzzles her soft muzzle against the fence. Sophie reaches through the slats again, her tiny fingers brushing against the horse’s velvet nose.
“She tickles,” Sophie lightly giggles, and the sound washes over me like a healing balm.
I take a deep breath, letting the country air fill my lungs as my heartbeat gradually returns to normal. The panic subsides, leaving me drained but present. I watch as Buttercup gently nudges Sophie’s hand, looking for treats.
“I think she likes you,” I say as I cautiously extend my own hand, and Buttercup’s warm breath puffs against my palm. Her large, hazel eyes regard me without judgment.
“Can we come see her tomorrow?” Sophie asks, leaning against my side.
“We’ll see, baby.” I stroke her hair again, noticing how the sunlight catches the golden strands. “Ms. Lucy might need to give us permission first.”
She nods solemnly. “We have to ask nicely.”
“That’s right.” I smile at her, my heart swelling with love for this little person who, despite everything, still remembers her manners.
Buttercup tosses her head and takes a few steps back from the fence, then turns and moves toward the far end of the pasture, her tail swishing behind her.
“Bye-bye, Buttercup.” Sophie calls, waving.
“I think it’s time to head inside, Soph.”
She nods but lingers a moment longer, her eyes tracking Buttercup’s movement across the field. “Do you think she’ll come back tomorrow?”
“I bet she will.” I stand and offer my hand. “Come on, let’s go back inside.”
Sophie slips her small hand into mine, and we turn back toward the tiny house.
Back inside I grab our bags and we work together to put our clothes in the bedroom dresser, Sophie insisting on having a place for Mr. Hoppy on her side of the bed.
“Time for a nap?” I ask as I see her yawn.
She shakes her head stubbornly. “Not sleepy yet.”
“How about we just lay down for a little bit? Mommy’s tired too.” This works because she never wants me to be tired or sad and just as fast, she’s curled up against me, Mr. Hoppy tucked under her arm, and I rub her back in a soothing motion. Her breathing evening out into the gentle rhythm of sleep in no time. The queen-sized bed we’re laying on is a cloud and our bodies sink into the mattress. The light blue comforter is so soft, and the pillows are plush. I’ve never been on something so comfortable in my entire life. Matt liked our mattress firm so when we went mattress shopping a year ago, he demanded that we get the one he wanted since he was the one who worked and needed to be able to sleep comfortably and I would just have to get used to it. I close my eyes as I continue rubbing her back trying to push all thoughts of Matt out of my mind.
I wake nearly an hour later based on the bedside clock, stealing a glance at Sophie to make sure she’s soundly asleep before sliding away from her.
I ease myself out of bed, careful not to disturb Sophie. My body feels rested from the nap, but my mind won’t quiet down. The anxiety buzzes like static electricity under my skin, making my fingers twitch and my heart beat faster than it should.
Standing by the window, I peek through the curtains at the back of Ms. Lucy’s house. What if this is all too good to be true? What if Matt somehow tracks us down here? What if Ms. Lucy changes her mind about letting us stay? What if Matt hurts her for helping us?
“Stop it,” I whisper to myself, pressing my palm against my forehead. “Just breathe.”
I take in the tiny house again—our temporary sanctuary. The sunlight streams through the window, casting warm patches on the wooden floor and I notice there’s a small bookshelf with a few paperbacks in the corner.
I check my burner phone that I silenced last night and notice five missed calls and a few texts from my best friend Emma. She’s the only person who I gave my new number. My finger hovers over her contact and press call as I slip out of the bedroom.
Emma answers on the first ring. “Bailey! Oh my god, where are you? Are you okay? Is Sophie okay?”
“We’re safe,” I whisper, keeping my voice down as I move toward the kitchenette. “That’s all I can really say right now.”
“I’ve been worried sick! You just disappeared and—”
“I know, Em. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. We just needed to get away.”
I hear her take a deep breath. “He’s furious, B. Like, I’ve never seen him this angry.”
My stomach twists. “What’s he doing?”
“He’s telling everyone you took Sophie without permission, that you’re unstable. He’s got his friends looking for your car. The whole town’s talking.”
Of course they are. In our small Oklahoma town, gossip spreads faster than wildfire. I can picture it all—the whispers at the grocery store, the concerned looks, everyone taking Matt’s side because he’s always been so “charming” in public.
“He went to Lisa’s house looking for you,” she continues. “When she said she hadn’t heard from you, he nearly put his fist through her wall.”
I close my eyes, guilt washing over me. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. Just shaken up. Bailey, he’s not going to stop looking.”
“I know.” It wasn’t like him to let anything go. Especially not me. In Matt’s mind, I was his possession, something he owned rather than someone he loved. The thought makes my skin crawl.
“Where are you staying? Do you need money? I can—”
“No details, Em. The less you know, the better. For all of us.” I run my fingers along the edge of the counter. “We have somewhere safe. Food, shelter. We’ll be okay.”
“Promise you’ll keep in touch? Just so I know you’re alive?”
“I promise.”
A small sound from the bedroom catches my attention. “I have to go. Sophie’s waking up.”
“Take care of yourself, B.”
“You too.”
I end the call just as Sophie appears in the doorway, rubbing her eyes, Mr. Hoppy dangling from her hand.
“Mommy, I’m hungry,” she mumbles, her hair sticking up in all directions.
I force a smile, pushing down the fear Emma’s call has stirred up. “Let’s see what we can find to eat, sweetie.”