Reaching forward, I turned the radio down further, driving with only the hum of the road noise in my ears as I searched for signs and weighed my options.
The likelihood that Peter had found us so quickly was terribly low, but I couldn’t put anything past him. How long had he had to track us down, after all? How long had I lain on the beach thinking I’d won, thinking I was finally free, yet all the while I’d failed in every way?
How stupid could I have been?
I should’ve made sure it was done.
But there was no sense dwelling on the past or hating myself for my mistakes. All there was left to do was fix things. Fix everything.
It’s what I was best at, after all.
CHAPTER TWO
AINSLEY
To my relief, the kids managed to sleep through the night, giving me enough time to formulate some semblance of a plan by the time we arrived in Nashville early the next morning.
I couldn’t take them home.
Though I suspected Peter was already long gone, I couldn’t risk it.
School wasn’t an option either, as I’d piggybacked the vacation to start before fall break, but even if I hadn’t, I assumed he’d check there.
I crossed Glennon’s home off my mental checklist too—she was still out of town, but it would also be another one of the first places Peter would think to look for us.
A hotel was out in case he checked our bank statements, which would’ve already led him to Florida, and then this direction. I’d taken out cash at every station that would let me, so I could space out my need for using the debit card, but even still, I’d left a trail.
My options were limited. In truth, I could only see one viable choice, and it was an incredibly bitter pill to swallow.
As the sun rose that morning, painting the sky a brilliant shade of purple, I pulled into the driveway of the house I’d spent the last few decades of my life avoiding.
It was the one place he’d never look for us.
When the car rolled to a stop in front of the two-story colonial home, always bright white with deep-red shutters, I gripped one wrist with my opposite hand and squeezed as tightly as I could, bringing pain to the forefront of my mind.
I needed to focus.
This wasn’t going to be permanent.
It was only until we could get our bearings.
When the pain had numbed, the exercise no longer working, I released my wrist and cleared my throat, checking my reflection in the mirror. She’d never forgive me for letting myself go so badly.
Despite that fact, I would put up with whatever torture my mother put me through if it meant keeping my children safe.
Maisy was the first to wake, twisting in the passenger seat to stare at me with one eye open. “Mom?” she croaked, seeming to have forgotten where she was. She sat up, looking around. “Why are we at Grandma’s?”
I wondered if she’d recognize the place. We’d been there only a handful of times since she was born.
I sighed. “We’re going to visit her for the day.”
“Why?” Her forehead wrinkled with obvious concern. Though I’d done my best to never speak ill of either set of the children’s grandparents in front of them, I knew they understood things weren’t always civil between us.
“It’s just for the day. I have some errands to run, and your dad isn’t home. I don’t want to leave you three by yourselves.”
“Why?” She wasn’t complaining exactly; she sounded more confused than anything. The kids were old enough to be left alone, I knew, and plenty mature, but that didn’t stop me from worrying. Even with the privacy and security our land had afforded us, I’d learned monsters lurk in the most ordinary places.
After Dylan’s most recent birthday, we’d been discussing letting him keep his siblings home alone, but it had never been decided.
Now, I guessed the decision rested solely with me.
Though, to be honest, the thought of ever letting them out of my sight at all was agonizing now.
“It’s just for the day, okay?”
Her expression smoothed, her voice rising an octave. “Is that what this is about? Did… Was Grandma the one who texted you? Is she sick? Did something happen?”
I put up a hand to calm her nerves, then used it to smooth her hair. “No, no. It’s nothing like that.”
“What’s going on?” Dylan asked, startling us both as he stretched his arms over his head and released a loud yawn.
“Something’s wrong with Grandma,” Maisy said.
“What? Seriously?” He unbuckled, leaning closer to us.