Chapter 1

Her stomach growled somewhere around the third hour of driving. She had packed a granola bar and a bottle of water, but the granola was gone by the time she crossed the county line, and the water was lukewarm. She didn't care. All that mattered was the distance growing between her and the two-bedroom rental where she had spent too many nights walking on eggshells. She remembered the last fight, the way Brian’s voice had risen until it vibrated through the walls, the way his hands had wrapped around the underside of the kitchen table as he yelled. She had walked out before he could do anything worse. That had been three days ago. Now she was almost to Clearwater.

Her mother’s house came into view just as the sun started to sink behind the trees. Carol Wade was waiting on the front porch, her arms crossed and her face soft with relief. Kira parked her old sedan on the street and climbed out, her legs stiff from the drive. The air smelled like cut grass and pine, so different from the stale smoke of Crestwood.

“You made it,” Carol said, stepping down to meet her. She pulled Kira into a hug that smelled like lavender and flour. “I was worried. That man—”

“I'm not going to talk about him tonight,” Kira said. She forced a smile. “I just need to start over.”

Carol nodded, took her by the arm, and guided her inside. The house was small but bright. A ceramic bowl of oranges sat on the kitchen counter, and the fridge was covered with magnets and old coupons. It felt like a safe place, the kind she had almost forgotten existed.

They had dinner together in the cozy kitchen. Carol talked about her garden and the neighbors. Kira nodded along, but her mind was still on the road, on the miles she had covered and the ones still ahead. After the plates were cleared, Carol pulled down a small pad from the fridge. It was covered in handwritten notes: plumber's number, a reminder to water the philodendron, and at the bottom, in red pen: “Telemarketers Wanted – No Experience Necessary, High Commission Potential. Call 555-0192.”

“I saw that at the grocery store,” Carol said. “I thought you might be looking for something temporary until you figure things out. It's a local call center. Good people, I hear.”

Kira studied the number. She had done phone sales for a summer during college. She hadn't loved it, but she could talk to strangers without getting nervous. And she needed money. Badly. “I'll call tomorrow,” she said.

“Why not now? The ad said they're hiring right away.” Carol's tone was gentle, not pushy.

Kira glanced at the clock. It was almost eight. Still within business hours, probably. She picked up the kitchen phone and dialed. A woman answered on the third ring. The conversation was short: they were interviewing tomorrow at ten, and she should bring a résumé. She didn't have one, but she could throw something together tonight.

When she hung up, she felt a small spark of hope. This was the first step. A job. A new city. A life that didn't revolve around Brian's moods.

She helped Carol clean the dishes and then excused herself to the guest room. It was small, with a twin bed and a window that looked out onto the backyard. Her suitcases were still in the car, but Carol had laid out a spare nightgown and a towel. Kira changed and sat on the edge of the bed, letting the quiet settle around her.

Her phone buzzed. She had silenced it during the drive, but she had forgotten to turn it back on. Now it vibrated against the nightstand. She picked it up. The screen lit up with Brian’s name.

She didn't answer. She let it buzz until it stopped. Then it buzzed again. And again. Each time, she pushed the button to send it to voicemail, and each time, the device buzzed again. A third time. A fourth.

Her hand trembled. She thought about blocking him, but part of her knew he would only find another way to reach her. For now, she turned the phone face-down on the nightstand and stared at the ceiling.

The buzzing stopped. The silence returned, but it was different now. Heavier. It pressed against her chest, reminding her that she had left Crestwood, but Crestwood had not finished with her yet.

Tomorrow, she would go to the interview. Tomorrow, she would start over. But tonight, the ghost of his calls hung in the room, and she wasn't sure if she had escaped or only borrowed time.