Chapter 25

I hope that wherever my hair ties are, that they’re happy. That’s all that matters.

-Hannah’s secret thoughts

Hannah

I was still chuckling to myself about Travis’ reaction as I dropped TJ off at daycare.

The smile was still firmly in place even when I pulled into the drop-off line at the school.

The mothers were acting extra crazy today due to it being almost the last day of school for the kids, so they were taking extra time letting their kids off, and backing the lines up almost all the way out of the school into the intersection of the highway.

I was fourteenth in line—I knew, since I’d been counting since I got into the line—and was thankful that I’d dropped TJ off first.

While I’d dropped TJ off, I’d explained that the two days following today would be his last because his grandmother was going to be watching him from now on.

When I’d texted Travis’ mother for confirmation, she’d exuberantly replied with a resounding, ‘Yes, absolutely, a hundred times yes!’

Which reminded me, I had to call the bus barn and make sure that I rerouted the girls for next year, though I could probably do that with their teachers when they started school in the fall.

All of this was going through my head as I listened to the girls chatter incessantly in the back seat about what they were going to do from now on with all their free time.

Would they color in their workbooks? Would they try to figure out how to hit the ball harder next year for softball? Would their grandmother (yes, Reggie was now claiming Travis’ mother as her own grandmother) take them to the city pool the first day they were off?

“Just make sure you don’t wear her out too much, girls,” I told them. “She also has TJ now, so it’s not going to be easy for her to drop everything and do your bidding.”

The girls acted like I never even spoke.

Finally, after another ten minutes in the line, we pulled up to the teachers that were helping the kids out of the cars.

The doors opened, and then both girls started to yell when they couldn’t get the back hatch to open.

“Shit,” I growled, grabbing my purse. “Stupid car.”

The latch on the hatch was broken, and would only open if I had my keys directly next to it. I’d been needing to take it in for weeks now, but with no time to do that, and too much stress at my job and at home, I hadn’t found the time.

“Sorry, sorry,” I muttered to the teacher that was giving me an ugly look.

It wasn’t like I was the entire reason the line was backed up. Someone before me had to have made a mistake, too!

Regardless, I ignored the looks and pushed the button to open the hatch.

That’s when I heard the screaming.

At first, I was confused.

I was looking around at the exit of the school, wondering if a kid had tried to cross the road, and the cars hadn’t stopped to let them cross. It was so bad there. Sometimes I used to drop TJ off and walk the girls across the street. When I realized that the dumbasses in our small town not only didn’t follow the posted speed limit for school zones but also didn’t stop to let children cross the street, I stopped walking them and started running them through the lines.

It added twenty minutes to the day, but if it were safer, then I’d do it.

But after assessing the situation, and seeing cars still pulling out, I realized that the problem wasn’t down there, but up in front somewhere.

My eyes continued to move around the parking lot, looking around to see the sources of the screams.

And that was when I saw that the eyes weren’t pointed somewhere else. They were pointed at me.

At me…and my girls.

My girls had just gotten out of the car and were standing at my side.

My eyes darted around like an addict looking for his next fix, trying to identify the danger.

My hand was already pushing on Alex’s head, shoving her down hard to the ground.

Reggie, startled by this, dropped down to her knees, and I hissed at them.

I don’t know what I said exactly, but they obeyed instantly.

And that’s when I saw it.

Her.

Allegra.

Standing there, a gun in her hand.

I heard my brother’s words in my ear.

Deep Breath. Look around. Assess the situation. Make sure the surroundings are clear. Draw. Aim. Fire. Swift. Smooth. No hesitation. Hesitation kills.

Hesitation kills.

I used to joke about that with my brother ever since he told me that phrase.

“Hesitation kills!” I used to say when he rethought turning in front of another car. “Hesitation kills!” I used to tease when he thought twice about picking up that third donut.

There was nothing funny about the situation I was facing, though.

Nothing.

The teachers that were standing on either side of my car were now hunched down by the front fender. My girls were shoved under the car—most likely by what I said.

And there Allegra stood, a shotgun pointed at me.

Just as suddenly as I identified the threat, I had a gun pointed right back at her.

My finger was already squeezing the trigger of my 9mm.

It took all of three-tenths of a second to make sure that everything was clear in front of me. There was nobody standing behind or beside her. Everyone was down and screaming.

“Put it down!”

She fired.

I pulled the trigger.

It hit her in the shoulder.

Her second shot exploded. I heard it first, then saw more than heard the glass of my windshield explode fully.

Then, almost as if she were inhuman, she started running away.

The shotgun lay on the ground where she’d once been standing.

My eyes darted around, double-checking for more threats, but there were none.

That was the day that changed my life. That was the day that I started to be proactive in protecting my children.

That was the day that would change not just my life, but many lives to come.