“No. But judging by those boxes in the back of the truck, I’m betting it’s a new mucker moving in.” Misty heaved a sigh and crossed her arms. “I’m disappointed our waitress fell through. I was looking forward to another single girl our age in town.”
“Yeah,” Savannah agreed. “I was looking forward to having a female neighbor for a change.”
Lyle pulled in at least half his workers by offering an employer-sponsored work visa for the first year. He got cheap labor for people who needed a way into the US, mostly from Canada. But as soon as they’d completed their year of service, the majority of them left town. Savannah didn’t know if they went back to Canada or moved on to find other work in the US, but she didn’t care either. Mining was a hard job, and the pay sucked until the three-year mark, when they got their first substantial raise. Even then, they moved slowly up the scale, with the lifers being the only ones who made a decent living wage. Bishop was a cheap sonofabitch on top of a mountain of other shortcomings.
And that just meant the caliber of men in town also sucked. Drifters, lowlifes, drinkers, druggies, felons… She prayed whoever moved in next door wasn’t a young partier, a creepy old man, or a criminal.
“I shouldn’t have to worry about who’s moving in.” She clenched her hands into fists and glanced over her shoulder to make sure Jamison was still playing in his room before adding, “I should be on my way out of this place. Just when I didn’t think I could hate Hank any more.”
She shook her head and stared out the window, willing someone to come out of the duplex next door so she could put at least one fear to rest. “Just the other day, Lyle was bitching about how Hank had to spend so much time saving the world, he couldn’t be expected to feed Jamison a decent meal. Now he’s supporting Hank in a custody battle? With Hank’s schedule, he wouldn’t see Jamison any more if he had custody than if I were to bring him here twice a month. I swear, everything is such a battle with him. Every damn thing.”
“Lyle’s the worst kind of— No.” Misty held up a hand. “Hank is the worst kind of bastard. But Lyle is right up there in Hank’s asshole.”
“I’m so tired,” Savannah admitted with a sigh. “I’ve been fighting so long, sometimes I just want to throw my hands up and yell Uncle. Imagining another thirteen years of this… God.”
“Don’t give in. That’s what he’s counting on, wearing you down.”
“And driving me into bankruptcy. I don’t have a rich daddy paying all my legal bills.”
“If he throws another wrench into the works and you find you have to stay, I’d really like you to consider moving in with me. I know neither of us can do it now, but I could have those second and third bedrooms cleared and sanitized in two weeks, tops, if I knew you and Jamison would be in them. I’d stuff everything into the barn and add extra locks so Jamison didn’t get into anything and hurt himself.”
Savannah smiled at Misty. The thought was sweet and generous, but hardly realistic. Misty’s father had died over six months ago. He’d been an eccentric man, an inventor of silly, strange, mostly useless gadgets. Only one of those inventions had sold, but it had given him enough money to raise Misty alone and live out his life on his small ranch following his useless passion of inventing. It hadn’t been enough to leave anything for Misty. Anything but a house where he’d hoarded furniture, appliances, equipment, supplies, books—you name it. Anything that caught his eye—whether bought, found, or scavenged.
Now, Misty worked extra shifts to keep her head above water and spent her spare time slowly moving through the junk to clean out the house in hopes of selling it one day. And she made a little extra by selling some of her father’s bizarre junk online.
“I’ve seen that barn,” she said, teasing Misty. “There’s no room to stuff anything anywhere.”
“You underestimate me.”
“No,” she said with a sigh. “No, I don’t. I have no idea how you deal with everything.”
“We do what we have to.”
Amen. Savannah nodded, but her tension skyrocketed as she wondered if she’d be able to do what she’d have to do if Hank was granted custody of Jamison.
“You’re not going to lose him,” Misty said, reading Savannah’s thoughts. “I’ll steal him myself before that prick gets him. My Aunt Carmen has a cabin in the mountains outside Coeur d'Alene. He’d never find us.”
“Oh,” she sighed with a whimsical little laugh. “A hidden cabin in the woods. You know you’ve hit bottom when that sounds heavenly.”
Maybe it’s time to run.
The thought crept into her head again, and her heart picked up speed.
“You know I’ve been dreading your move to Missoula,” Misty said, “but I hope you also know I’d do everything possible to support you if you choose another way out.”
Like running.
The unsaid words hung between them.
Savannah gave Misty
’s arm a squeeze. “I do know. Thank you.”
“I want what’s best for you and Jamison. You both deserve peace, security, and love in your lives. And you certainly aren’t getting any of that here.”
Savannah released a breath, her heart growing heavy. She returned her gaze to the window but let her eyes blur over the blue sky and white mountains. It wasn’t that she didn’t think she could do it. Savannah had already walked away from an abusive man, something she’d never imagined she’d have to face. And she’d walked away from their marriage, something she’d never dreamed she’d have to do. And—if the custody arrangement had been settled with the divorce—she would have taken Jamison and settled a few hours away and faithfully brought him to see Hank every two weeks.
But she didn’t have confidence in her ability to disappear. At least not from a man like Hank. He would come after her armed with his fury, his unscrupulous methods, his law enforcement connections, and his father’s nearly unlimited resources.