Page 2 of Jax & Knox

Then he's gone.

The door slams shut behind him and I stand there, frozen, listening to the sound of his car starting in the driveway. The engine revs. Tires crunch on gravel. And then… silence.

I count to sixty in my head. Then I count again. And again.

When I'm sure he's really gone, I move.

My hands are shaking as I pull the duffel bag out from under the bed. It's been packed for two weeks, hidden beneath a pile of old blankets and winter clothes Justin never bothers to look through. I've been planning this. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for him to work a night shift so I'd have enough time to get far enough away that he couldn't catch me before morning.

I grab the bag and sling it over my shoulder, wincing as the strap digs into the bruise on my collarbone. Then I move to Owen's room.

He's asleep in his crib, his little fists curled up by his face, his mouth slightly open. He looks so peaceful. So innocent. He has no idea what kind of monster lives in this house. And if I have anything to say about it, he never will.

"Hey, baby," I whisper, reaching down to scoop him up. He stirs, making a soft whimpering sound, but he doesn't wake. I press a kiss to his forehead, breathing in that sweet baby smell, milk and lotion and something uniquely him . "We're going on an adventure, okay? Just you and me."

I grab his diaper bag, already packed with everything I could fit, and head for the door.

The beater car is parked two blocks away, tucked behind an abandoned gas station. A woman from the shelter helped me get it. I don't even know her name. She just handed me the keys one day and told me to be safe. I wanted to cry. I wanted to hug her. But I didn't. I just took the keys and said thank you.

The walk feels like it takes forever. Every sound makes me jump. Every car that passes makes my heart stop. I keep expecting to see Justin's patrol car rounding the corner, his face twisted in rage as he realizes what I've done.

But he doesn't come.

When I finally reach the car, I strap Owen into the secondhand car seat I bought at a thrift store and throw the bags in the back. My hands are still shaking as I slide into the driver's seat and turn the key.

The engine sputters. Coughs. Then roars to life.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Okay," I whisper to myself. "Okay. We can do this."

I pull out onto the road and drive.

By the time the sun starts to set, I've been driving for hours.

I don't have a plan. Not really. I just know I need to get as far away from Jackson as possible. Maybe I'll head to Detroit. Or Chicago. Somewhere big enough that I can disappear. Somewhere Justin won't think to look.

Owen woke up about an hour ago and he's been fussy ever since. I can't blame him. It's hot as hell in this car, the air conditioning gave out about fifty miles back, and he's probably hungry. I've got formula and bottles in the diaper bag, but I can't exactly pull over and feed him on the side of the highway. Not when every second counts.

"I know, baby," I say, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. His little face is red and scrunched up, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I know. Just a little longer, okay? We'll stop soon. I promise."

But even as I say it, I feel the car start to shudder.

"No," I whisper. "No, no, no. Come on. Don't do this."

The shuddering gets worse. The engine makes a horrible grinding sound and then, smoke. Thick, black smoke starts pouring out from under the hood.

"Fuck!"

I pull over onto the shoulder, my heart pounding. The car rolls to a stop and I turn off the engine, but the smoke keeps coming. I unbuckle my seatbelt and get out, popping the hood. More smoke billows out, making me cough.

I don't know shit about cars. I don't know what I'm looking at. All I know is that this piece of shit just died and I'm stranded on the side of a highway in the middle of nowhere with a screaming baby and no way to call for help because I left my phone at the house so Justin couldn't track me.

I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to punch something.

Instead, I take a deep breath and go to the backseat to get Owen.

"It's okay," I tell him, even though it's not. Even though nothing is okay. "We're okay."