Prologue
Amber
When a girl marries her high school sweetheart, she never expects anything to go wrong. I mean, what could go wrong when you dated your entire high school career? He never showed his bad side, so that had to mean he didn’t have one, right?
Wrong.
Jarrod and I got married right after we graduated. He gave me a promise ring our junior year, and he proposed to me the summer before our senior year. We took our senior pictures together. We went to every homecoming together and both our junior and senior proms.
We were inseparable. We were the couple everyone wanted to be.
We had it all.
Until we didn’t.
He lost his football scholarship his first semester of college when they found steroids in his system. His parents refused to fund his schooling because of his use of enhancement drugs. And according to the government, his family made too much for him to qualify for financial aid.
So, he dropped out.
We thought we could still make it.
We couldn’t.
I was still going to school, but I got a part-time job after classes were over to help pick up some of the slack on the bills since his parents had apparently been funding that, too, and I’d been unaware.
It had been the second biggest lie of our marriage, and we hadn’t even been married six months yet.
Jarrod began heavily drinking after he was laid off from his third manufacturing job in six months.
Then, the drugs started.
And then, the anger came.
After that, all I knew was pain.
I was his punching bag. And he monitored every call I ever made. If I wasn’t around him, I couldn’t have my phone. Because he knew what he was doing to me was wrong, and he didn’t want me ratting him out.
I became an expert at hiding my bruises.
I became proficient at hiding the pain.
The night before my twenty-fifth birthday, I found out I was pregnant. And I prayed to God that a miracle would happen that would take me away from the stranger I was married to. Because I refused to believe that the old Jarrod was in there anymore.
The new Jarrod had smothered him and killed him.
At 2 A.M. that morning, banging sounded on the front door. Jarrod kicked me out of bed to go find out who it was. In fact, for two whole weeks after that night, I wore the bruise of his footprint on my back.
Two officers were standing at my door, guns drawn on me. “Amber, who’s at the door?!” Jarrod shouted from up the hall where our room was at.
I pressed my hand to my stomach, my entire body trembling. I hadn’t done anything. Why were these officers here pointing guns at me?
Without a word, they ushered me outside, and so, in nothing but a tank top and a pair of sleep shorts, no shoes on my feet, I quickly moved outside onto the porch. Another officer emerged from the shadows and pulled me to the side of the house.
“Get down,” he whispered.
I did as he instructed. My mind was reeling. All I knew was that I needed to follow their orders, even if I didn’t understand what was happening.
But suddenly, I did. I understood everything.
Numerous officers marched into my house. There was shouting. Gunfire. I heard someone shout, “Officer down!”
And then, a few minutes later, I watched through the bushes as my husband was dragged out of the house in handcuffs, his Miranda rights being read to him as they shoved him into a police cruiser. I stayed where I was, even after the car had driven away that had him detained in the backseat.
The same officer that told me to get down coaxed me from behind the bushes. I was instructed to pack a bag since my apartment was now a crime scene. I grabbed what I could, put some shoes on my feet, and then, I drove home to my parents.
And I cried.
I cried for days. I cried for everything that had happened. I cried over losing the man I’d fallen in love with that had been taken over by a monster. I cried for this baby I now had that I was unsure I could provide for.
Mom and Dad consoled me as much as they could. They were horrified when I told them what had been going on. I could see the guilt in their eyes when I told them of the abuse. And then, I saw the pity when I informed them I was pregnant.
But God had answered my prayer, and on my birthday, Jarrod had been taken away.
My parents helped me get an attorney to file for a divorce, and they stood strong at my side as I was brought forward as a character witness in Jarrod’s case. And they stood by my side during the divorce proceedings where my bruises were put on display for everyone in the courtroom to see.
After my divorce was finalized, I packed whatever I needed, and I left town. My parents didn’t try to hold me back. Jarrod’s parents even sent me with a substantial amount of money to help me get on my feet with their grandbaby.
I drove until my car ran out of gas in a small town in Tennessee nestled at the base of the mountains. And I cried some more because I was finally free.
~*~*~
A knock sounded on my window, and I jerked my head up to stare at the officer standing outside of my car. With trembling fingers, I rolled the window down. I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep.
“Yes, sir?” I asked, my voice husky with sleep.
“You okay?” he asked me. “I was on my way into work when I saw you parked here asleep.”
I sheepishly smiled. “My car ran out of gas, and I guess I was just too tired to walk and find help.”
He nodded in understanding. “Come on. I’ll run you into town and have your car towed in.”
“No, that’s fine—”
He laughed softly. “No charge,” he assured me. “We can grab breakfast at the diner while we wait for your car to get to a gas station. I’ll even call my brother-in-law so you don’t feel bad about dragging someone out of bed.”
I looked at the time on my almost dead phone. “But it’s five in the morning,” I said on a yawn, a blush flushing my cheeks. “Sorry. Excuse me.”
He laughed. “I feel just as tired as you probably do, trust me. Grayson is a rancher. I promise he’s up. Come on.”
I slowly stepped out of my car, and he held his hand out to me. “Chase Warren. I’m the sheriff. My wife, Meredith, runs the bookstore in town, and my nana, Margaret, owns the diner we’re going to have breakfast in.”
My eyes widened. “That’s quite a bit to take in at once.”
He laughed. “You get used to it. Grab anything important and come on. I’m hungry, and I need coffee.”
With a soft, thankful smile, I grabbed my purse and followed him to his massive truck.
