Millie never woke as you lifted her from her bed, her head resting against your shoulder, small and warm and trusting. You held onto her tighter than usual as you walked out into the dark. You didn't look back.

You drove for hours with no real destination, just distance. Streetlights faded into long stretches of highway, then into open land that felt unfamiliar and endless. The world outside your window slowly changed, but you barely noticed. Your focus stayed on the road and the steady rise and fall of Millie's breathing in the backseat.

By the time the sky began to lighten, your body felt heavy with exhaustion. Pale gold stretched along the horizon, the first signs of morning creeping in. A sign you passed miles back read Wyoming. You hadn't planned on Wyoming.

The car started to stutter. At first it was small, easy to ignore. Then it happened again, stronger this time, the engine struggling under your hands. Your stomach dropped as it jerked forward, the sound turning rough and uneven. You pleaded for some higher power to let the car just get through this, gripping the wheel tighter.

The engine gave out completely a moment later. You guided the car to the side of the road, the tires crunching against gravel as it rolled to a stop. Silence followed, wide and heavy.

You sat there for a second, staring ahead, then at your tired reflection in the rearview mirror—the small bruise under your eye almost blending with the tired bags. You glanced at Millie, still asleep, curled up in her car seat, completely unaware.

You stepped out of the car, the early morning air cool against your skin. The road stretched on in both directions, empty. Nothing but open land and sky. No help. No plan. And no phone—because you didn't want to risk Nick tracking you. Just you and a broken car in the middle of nowhere.

The sound of an engine pulled your attention up. A truck appeared in the distance, growing larger as it approached. It slowed as it got closer, then pulled over a short distance ahead of you. Your heart started to race again as the driver's door opened and a man stepped out.

Tall and broad. Rugged in a handsome, masculine sort of way. He walked toward you, boots crunching on the gravel, stopping a few feet away. His eyes swept over the stalled car, then settled on you, catching on the bruise beneath your eye before he looked away politely.