Uneven boot-steps clomped across the squeaky porch, waking Hayden from the fitful sleep she’d dropped in and out of while waiting for Bobby Joe to come home. Dread and relief warred within her. At least he wasn’t splattered across a back road somewhere. Soon she might not be very grateful for that, though.

She glanced at the time on her bedside clock. After midnight.

That could only mean one thing. He was drunk again. It was late enough that he’d be past the fun stages of inebriation. Nah, he would be well into the darker side of his addiction by now. The worst parts of him—angry, bitter, mean, petty, aggressive—would be on full display. Shit.

Hayden braced herself.

Fumes potent enough to blow up their cabin, especially if sparked by either of their tempers, assaulted her nose the moment he ripped open the door, letting it crash against the rickety clapboard. The acrid bite of illegal, homemade moonshine—the cheapest shit he could lay his hands on—made her eyes water. She swore that stuff was making him crazy. Who knew what kind of chemicals Cletus Johnson and his brothers were putting into that junk to get people smashed for a fraction of the cost of alcohol produced to any reasonable standard?

Bobby Joe staggered inside without bothering to lock up. Keeping her safe, never mind happy, was no longer his priority. He lurched to one side. Attempting to remove his boot resulted in him crashing to the floor like a giant tree falling in a storm. He didn’t even put his hands out to stop his face-plant.

Definitely hammered.

Pretending to be out cold was the only defensive maneuver she had. So she gave it a go. Hayden curled into a ball and slammed her eyes shut, trying not to tremble hard enough to make the metal bedframe squeak. Unfortunately, her act wasn’t very believable. Bobby Joe could have woken the dead in the family cemetery behind the one-room shanty they rented from the rancher next door. His cursing escalated as he struggled to his knees then crawled the rest of the way toward the corner of the glorified shed they had called home these past five years.

Things hadn’t always been awful. Sure, they’d never had money to spare. Two local kids with high school diplomas and not much else, who swore they’d make it together despite the odds against them and everyone’s doubts. Gossipy bullshit didn’t matter to her. She’d imagined they were like those trendy couples living adventurously in tiny homes because they craved a minimalist lifestyle, not because that was their only option.

People’s opinions mattered to Bobby Joe, though. After his glory days as the town’s football star were over, he hadn’t adjusted very well to being a regular schmuck like the rest of them. He expected people to revere him, clear the way for him, like his teachers had when his grades had fallen short of the athletics program requirements without a bit of extra credit sprinkled over his late and half-assed assignments.

Hayden had gladly worked three jobs, including scrubbing toilets at the skeevy roadside motel near the highway, as he searched for something worthy of his time.

Nearly a year after graduation, he’d finally accepted a junior salesman position at the town’s used car lot. Bobby Joe didn’t appreciate being the low man on the totem pole, even if he sucked at the job. Bitterness plagued him, souring the small victories they might have otherwise celebrated while building a better life together.

Hayden had done her damnedest to keep them afloat despite his constant negativity. It weighed on her, dragging her down to the depths of his misery more often than she cared to admit. She hugged herself, squeezing her fingers over the reminder she’d had tattooed along her side. Maybe it was time to bail. She wasn’t quite ready, but maybe she never truly would be. After he’d passed out, she could make her move. How had it come to this?

It hadn’t been long before Bobby Joe would detour to the bar on his way home from not-selling cars. A few beers with the guys after work or on game days had turned into something more dangerous than that over time. Constant pressures on their finances, made worse by his nights out and his half-empty attitude, exacerbated their problems.

These days, Hayden had to think hard to recall what she’d seen in him from the start. No matter how desperately she’d clung to the goofy, happy-go-lucky winner Bobby Joe had once been, that boy she’d fallen in love with had slipped away. It was time to admit that she’d lost him for good.

I guess those people and their nasty whispers were right after all.

At least she’d tried. Given their relationship her absolute best, despite the ulcer she suspected it had given her. She couldn’t say for sure because they hadn’t had the cash for her to see the doctor even if she could have gotten the time off to schedule an appointment at the town’s clinic. Each of her employers gave her almost-but-not-quite enough hours to qualify for medical insurance benefits, and since she and Bobby Joe had never gotten married like they’d once dreamed about—thank God—he couldn’t add her to his coverage.

Hayden probably should have left a long, long time ago. But she’d given it her all. And she’d failed. Despite her best efforts to be silent, a frustrated, miserable groan escaped her.

Bobby Joe took that as a sign that she was awake enough for him to harass. He kneed her ribs as he climbed into their bed, still fully dressed. “Don’t even wait up for your man anymore, do you?”

She clutched her side, rocking as stars illuminated the inky field behind her eyelids, trying to convince herself it had been an accident. He was too intoxicated to have aimed that well, right?

Anger frothed through her. When would it be enough? The excuses, the self-doubt, her blaming herself for everything? Tonight. That’s when. She was fucking over it all. Over. It.

Hayden sat up gingerly then glared at Bobby Joe. “You’re the one who chose not to come home.”

Honestly, she was glad he hadn’t. It meant less time she’d had to spend faking a smile or gritting her teeth. It exhausted her to guarantee every anodyne comment she made couldn’t possibly offend while still scrutinizing his every move, hyperaware of his mood as she waited for their next argument to erupt.

“Don’t act so innocent.” He shoved her shoulder, definitely not by chance.

Hayden tumbled to her back on the thin, saggy mattress they’d shared since before he’d lost himself to alcohol and the gloom he carried inside him.

“What the fuck have I done except bust my ass so you could chug what little money we had?” Fuck this. Most times lately she refused to be lured into a fight, thinking of the long game. Tonight she couldn’t take another minute of his bullshit.

He might not know it, but she had a plan.

“What have you done? Every fucking guy that comes on to you at the diner, I bet,” he snarled, flinging spittle across her face with his slurred accusation.

“What?” She wiped it away with the back of her hand, blinking. Stunned. Where would he get an idea like that?

He was the one who’d cheated on her. Probably lots of times.

Hayden hadn’t bothered calling him on it, afraid of rousing his ire when she’d already decided to leave him. The DNA test she’d seen was enough proof for her that the woman who’d marched into her section at the diner a month or so ago and claimed to be having Bobby Joe’s baby was a lot more likely to be telling the truth than her scumbag boyfriend.

“You’ve been holding out on me.” He gripped her upper arm then, crushing it between his fingers as he shook her hard enough to make her bite her own tongue. “Could have at least let me watch, whore.”

“You’re so fucking drunk you’re hallucinating. Making shit up. Let me go!” She yanked but couldn’t wrest her arm free of his hold. Icy fear prickled along her spine.

The tang of iron blossoming across her tongue nearly distracted her until Bobby Joe bellowed, “Not until you tell me where you got all that cash!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A lie. A big fat whopper. She’d never been good at telling them, but if ever there was a time to fib, it was then. Her stomach bottomed out. If he’d found her stash, she might be in real danger. There’d be no way out and she’d just crossed some major lines, pissed Bobby Joe off like never before.

Truth was, Hayden had been playing open mic nights for tips while he’d assumed she was tucked in at home. For months he’d gotten drunk in the woods with his loser buddies and she’d padded the space beneath a loose floorboard in the corner with cash. Her goal was to save enough for a bus ticket to Anywhere Else, USA, and a few months of rent on a cheap but safe enough place to start getting her life in order.

Things had spiraled out of control gradually enough at first that she’d kept thinking she could reverse their downward trajectory. Once she’d realized it was too late, around the time Bobby Joe had started spending most of his nights out, it had really gone to shit fast.

Hayden hated the things she’d done to keep the peace until she could plot her escape. She winced thinking of how she’d lain still beneath Bobby Joe while he got himself off, relying on brute force when it was clear she wasn’t into fucking him. If he demanded that of her again tonight, she thought she might be sick. So maybe it was better to come clean.

“Good, then you won’t bitch at me for spending the money I found down there.” He flung his arm out. It wobbled like a limp noodle in the direction of her hiding spot.

“No!” She wrenched away from him, slipping from his uncoordinated hold. It had taken her weeks to amass even that pittance, and he’d destroyed it in a few hours. He would do the same to her if she hung around any longer.

She was leaving. Hayden had sworn to herself that she was. It just took time to make that a reality. She’d had to be so careful not to get caught. Not to tip him off.

Now it had been for nothing.

“Guess you’re not such a goody two-shoes after all.” His face turned purple.

Hayden probably should have expected it. But she didn’t.

The crack of his fist against her cheekbone ricocheted through her skull. It was the final straw. Primal instincts roared to life within her. She kicked and punched, flailed and bucked until she got lucky.

Her knee crashed into Bobby Joe’s balls. Hard.

The bastard curved in on himself and squirmed around on his back like a turtle that couldn’t right itself. Instead of wasting her breath screaming at him or throwing away this chance, which she would likely never have again, Hayden ran.

Since that bastard had spent her escape kitty, she didn’t even have to pause to dig the folded bills from beneath the loose floorboards before she fled into the night.

Bobby Joe’s shouts echoed around her, making her shiver a lot more violently than the cool spring air that slapped her throbbing face.

The pain inspired her to keep sprinting despite her bare feet, which were being sliced to shreds on the pricker bushes she smashed through. She scaled the fence to the rancher’s property and toppled over it, adding a few scrapes and gouges to her list of injuries. None of them were as painful as the ones to her pride.

How had she let things come to this? Never again.

She would never depend on a man again. Never tie herself to someone so tightly that she disappeared in his shadow.

Hayden cut through tall grass and pastures. Maybe she’d knock on the door of the main house and beg for shelter. They’d probably insist on calling the police. Cops weren’t likely to help, though. They knew Bobby Joe, had cheered for him. A few still hung out with him and turned a blind eye to the activities going down in the woods in exchange for bottomless free samples.

No, Bobby Joe still had more fans in town than her.

If they delivered her into Bobby Joe’s clutches, she didn’t think he would let her go again. The embarrassment of being dumped would be intolerable to his fragile ego.

No one knew that side of him like she did.

Hayden didn’t have a single dollar in her pocket. Or even a goddamned pocket for that matter. She had an oversized T-shirt that she usually slept in. No shoes, no coat, no underwear.

Fucked, that’s what she was.

If she could make it through the night, she could wait for Bobby Joe to go to work then sneak back in and grab a few necessities. She’d figure out what to do from there. One step at a time, she would do this. She had no other choice.

First thing she needed was a place to go to ground for a few hours.

Hayden paused and listened. No more shouts reached her ears. Bobby Joe had been far too impaired to make it this far without breaking a leg, she was pretty sure. So she crept over to the barn that housed her neighbor’s livestock. Except no matter how hard she yanked, she couldn’t open the door.

Locked? Damn it.

A warm glow and the boisterous voices of the ranch hands spilled from the windows of the bunkhouse. She kept a wide berth as she slunk around it. Though they sounded like much more pleasant drunks than Bobby Joe, she’d learned her lesson. It was wise to stay away from trouble before it got out of hand.

Up ahead, a cherry-red semi with an ornate compass rose painted on the side was hitched to a livestock trailer. She’d seen it roll through town earlier this afternoon. If it was still here, that meant its owner would be spending the night.

Hayden peeked inside. Whoever had been driving it had taken the time to clean it out meticulously. The only thing remaining inside was a neat pile of fresh hay the animals hadn’t eaten en route. Right then, it looked like heaven on earth.

She glanced around. Everyone was inside.

If she could rest for a while, she’d be able to creep away before first light and hide somewhere else until she spied Bobby Joe pulling out of their dirt driveway with one of the cars he perpetually borrowed from the lot since they couldn’t afford one of their own.

No one would know she’d been there.

Hayden hopped into the trailer and crept toward the front. She rearranged the hay in the corner, using it to form a nest. Some of it she tucked beneath her to act as a buffer from the cold metal while the rest she fluffed over her bare legs. Thank goodness the worst of the cold nights were behind them.

She drew her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around her shins. When she rested her forehead on her legs, pain radiated around her eye.

Do. Not. Cry.

She couldn’t risk alerting anyone to her presence. Neither did she want to exacerbate the zings stabbing her side and arm in time to her pounding heartbeat.

Besides, she’d shed plenty of tears over her bad judgment.

Bobby Joe had hurt her enough. She’d never let him or anyone else do that to her again.