CHAPTER ONE

Nacole

Six Months Later

Slapping my palm on top of the alarm clock makes the shrill beeping die as I roll over, the sun streaming right into my face. Grumbling, I push myself up from the bed to a sitting position. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I yawn and stumble to the bathroom, hurrying through my normal routine before heading back to my bedroom to get dressed.

As I’m pulling on a pair of jeans, I glance over at the clock—8:00 a.m. I have an interview today at this sports bar in Nashville. I never thought at almost thirty years old I’d be working as a waitress when I have a business degree. But here we are.

Satisfied with my simple outfit of a black sweater and jeans, I make my way to the kitchen for coffee. My interview isn’t until ten, but I only have a couple street directions on a piece of paper. When I received the call the other day about coming in, I explained that I didn’t have GPS on my cell phone and I was given the basic instructions. I only have a couple hundred dollars left over from what I came to Tennessee with.

Almost four months ago, I left Graham Ward. After losing Mom, I was completely lost in my grief. I wanted to have a service for her, but she was cremated, much to my devastation. He didn’t even allow me to purchase an urn for her. I still have her in the cardboard box the funeral home gave me.

Two weeks after her death, I received a phone call from a lawyer I’d never heard of. My mom left everything to me and had given her lawyer a letter to give me. Inside, she told me that she had been putting money aside for years. It’s for me to do with as I please, but Graham was to never know. She hoped that someday I could be rid of him.

She knew everything.

All those years I thought I was clever at hiding bruises, any injuries, but I should’ve known. Mom knew me better than anybody. She didn’t have much, but between her life insurance and her savings, I had a large nest egg of about $100,000. While that’s not a whole hell of a lot in San Diego, it’s more than enough in a small Tennessee town.

Graham never let me have much of anything, but the one thing I did have for years was time. I spent all my time waiting on him hand and foot, and the one thing I loved more than anything was country music. I still do. It’s soothing, and it heals my heart. When I started looking into leaving my husband, the first place I thought of was Nashville. Starting over was scary, and while I find myself looking over my shoulder at every noise, I know it was worth it.

Check from my mom’s lawyer, Mr. Hale, in hand, I pull the large glass doors to the bank open and stroll inside, eyes darting around, sure Graham followed me. Making my way up to the teller, I inform her that I need to open an account with just my name on it.

Thirty minutes later, I leave the bank with a navy folder and an account with six figures—all of which my husband knows nothing about. My next move is to leave, and the sooner the better. My body can’t take any more abuse, nor can my mind handle the pain another day. Losing Mom showed me just how big of a monster I’m married to.

Every night, he comes home wanting dinner to be ready. Then I’m to leave him alone for the remainder of the evening. If dinner is even a minute later than he wants, I have to be ‘dealt with’ somehow. Last night he almost broke my arm, he twisted it so far back. Luckily I had some painkillers left over from his last episode and the throbbing has dulled enough for me to function.

Climbing into the Mercedes, I toss the folder on the passenger seat and hang my head, tears burning my eyes. “I’m doing it, Momma. I promise. I’m gonna get away.”

Wiping at my face, I start the car and pull out into traffic, heading toward the law office I found online. I can do this. I just need to hang on a little longer

I’m broken from my thoughts by my cell phone ringing loudly on the counter. Glancing at the screen, I find my attorney’s name flashing on it.

“Hello?” I answer, gripping the phone tightly.

“Mrs. Ward, Mitchell Hale here.”

“Mr. Hale, yes. How are you?” I swallow down the bile at even the mere mention of my last name.

“I’m doing just fine. So listen, last we spoke, you still hadn’t filed from your husband. We have the documentation of his abuse, so I wanted to see if you’d changed your mind.”

“No. I’m not ready. I know I’m being stupid, but the repercussions of filing for divorce….”

“I understand, but with what we have against him, there would be no defense for him.”

“Still. Once I’m ready to take him on, I will. Right now I need to rest my mind. Mom hasn’t been gone that long, Mr. Hale.”

“Please, call me Mitchell. You’ll let me know when you’re ready, yes?”

“Of course. I can never thank you enough for everything.”

“You’re welcome. You doing okay? You’re safe?”

“Yes. Trying to move on. I have a job interview today, and then I can start finding a permanent home. This apartment is terrifying.”

“Terrifying?”

“Yeah. It’s this rickety old place, spiders everywhere, and I can hear my neighbors fighting at all hours of the night.”

“You know you have—”

I cut him off, knowing exactly what he’s gonna say. “I know Mom left me enough money to take care of a better place to live, but I don’t want to touch it. I don’t want her money. I want her.” My voice breaks off and I fight through the still raw emotions. “I’ll think about it.”

“Honey, can I be frank with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Your mother wanted you to have the money to start over. She saw you spend years of your life beaten down and unhappy. I know losing her hurt you, and to be honest, it hurt me too. She wasn’t just someone who I helped legally. She was my friend. And I’m certain she’d hate to know the tools she left you weren’t being used.”

“I know.”

“Just think about it, okay? I’ll check on you in a couple weeks.”

“Bye.”

Ending the call, I blow out a breath and brush away the few tears that fell. Pushing off the chair, I stroll to the bathroom and check to make sure that the little makeup I put on isn’t ruined. Glancing at the time, I see I need to leave for my interview. I was told it would only take about fifteen minutes to get there, but I want to make sure I’m not late.

Grabbing my purse, I sling it over my shoulder and head down to my car, my mom’s used Honda. Glancing at the paper I wrote the directions on, I buckle up and take a deep breath.

Here goes nothing.

§

Twenty minutes later, I pull into the small parking lot of Walker’s Taphouse. The drive was easy and I never missed a turn. Parking next to a large truck, I climb from my car and brush off my clothes, hoping I look good enough.

Locking the doors, I drop my keys into my purse and head inside. The main door is unlocked and I push it open, stepping inside to the bar. I imagine it looks different at night, but at the moment it’s barely lit, only a few overhead lights on above the bar top.

Looking around, I don’t see anyone.

“Hello?” I call out.

“We’re closed!” a deep voice shouts.

“Oh no, I’m not here for a drink or anything. I’m Nacole Ward. I have an interview.” My voice is quiet and I begin wringing my hands together, worried I’m too early.

Silence.

“I can… I can go.” My nerves and anxiety get the best of me and I turn to leave, knowing this was a bad idea. I’m clearly not ready to be around people or work full-time yet.

As I move to the door, I hear loud footsteps and I brace myself.

“No, wait. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Turning back toward the voice, I find a man who looks to be in his early thirties, light brown hair styled into some sort of fauxhawk, his deep brown eyes trained right on me.

“I’m Brody Walker, owner of the place. You’re a little early, so I was trying to get some paperwork done beforehand. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

He holds his hand out to me and slowly I take it.

“That’s okay. I can go hang out in my car until you’re ready,” I offer, folding my arms across my stomach.

“Oh God no. Come into my office. We can go ahead and start now.”

With a kind smile, he holds an arm out to lead the way, and I hesitantly follow him into his office. I take a seat in the chair set up in front of his desk and cross my legs, palms sweaty. Brody drops into his own chair and leans his elbows on the desk, fingers toying with his shiny wedding band. My eyes follow his ministrations and he notices his actions.

“Sorry. I’m still getting used to it,” he says, smile growing wider by the second.

“Oh?”

“Got married only a month ago. That’s my wife, Lindsey.” He points at a small photograph on his desk, a beautiful blonde smiling at the camera, Brody kissing her cheek in it.

“She’s beautiful,” I say, looking back at Brody.

“She is. I’m a lucky son of a bitch. Are you married?”

I don’t even hesitate. “No, I’m not.”

Lying. Great way to start an interview. But it’s the only way to protect myself.

“One day,” he jokes, reaching over for a manila folder. Removing the application I filled out earlier in the week, he places it in front of him. “So, Nacole Ward, tell me about yourself.”

“Not much to tell,” I say, wringing my hands together again.

“Says here you’re from California. Whereabouts?”

San Diego.

“Santa Barbara,” I lie again. I doubt he’ll go digging into my background, but I don’t need to give him any reason to accidentally stumble upon Graham.

“Always wanted to go there.”

“It’s beautiful. You should.”

Brody nods, scanning the sheet in front of him. “Duly noted. So, what brings you all the way to Nashville?”

His words have the past six months flashing through my brain. The last time Graham took his rage out on me. My mother. I barely notice the tears filling my eyes until I look up and see the concern in Brody’s.

“A fresh start,” I whisper. He offers me a box of tissues and I gratefully take it. “Sorry, it’s just been a hard few months. I lost my mom unexpectedly back in January, and I just needed to get away. Start over.”

Brody’s eyes soften, and he gives me a sad smile. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you.”

With a nod, Brody steers the conversation back to the interview, and I’m grateful.

“I’ll cut to the chase, Nacole. When you came in and filled out the application, my bartender, Nate, knew you would be a good fit. He has a way of reading people. You’re the only person interested in the job, and I like you.”

“Seriously?” I just bawled all over his desk and he’s telling me I have the job.

“Seriously. I know it’s listed as a full-time job, but you can set when you work. Weekends will be best for tips, and since this place is small, we only have one other waitress, Caroline. She’s been here since the beginning and she’s amazing. She’ll make sure you’re taken care of. Pay is ten an hour, plus tips. I know most places pay shit for waitressing, but I refuse to pay anyone below that. Maybe that’s why it took a couple years for this place to take off.”

“Thank you. Really, I appreciate this so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

We both stand from our seats, and Brody reaches out to shake my hand. “Welcome to Nashville, Nacole. Looking forward to getting to know you.”

With a smile, I offer him a soft “Thank you” and turn to leave. It’s not until I’m safely in my car with the doors locked that I let my head fall to the steering wheel, tears coursing down my cheeks. Guilt and excitement take over my heart. I hate knowing I couldn’t be fully truthful with Brody, but I can’t chance Graham finding me. If he does, he’ll make sure I’m back where he thinks I belong, by his crooked and abusive side.

But I relish this chance.

The chance to finally start over and find myself again.

To take my life back and live for me and only me.

Nobody will ever dictate what I do. Nobody will control my thoughts, my desires, or my happiness ever again.