The neighborhood around her seemed to mock her with its perfection. Tidy lawns, front porches decorated with wreaths and signs that read “BLESSED” in neat cursive. It was the kind of place where women sipped their Sunday coffee in wide-brimmed hats, and men discussed stocks in their air-conditioned homes. It was a place where everyone seemed to have it all together—a place where Avery felt like she would never belong.
And as she limped down the sidewalk, she knew, deep down, that she was losing the battle. She needed help. But who could she ask? Her marriage was crumbling, and even her mother-in-law, Debra, who often referred to her as “sweetie,” made her feel like an outsider in this picture-perfect world.
Then, her phone buzzed. She didn’t even have to check it to know who it was. Probably Debra again. Or Chase. Or maybe Kelsey, Chase’s sister, who had taken Avery’s SUV like it was her personal vehicle. Avery didn’t care. She didn’t have the strength to care.
Maisie whimpered in her arms, and Avery kissed her forehead, whispering the only words she could offer in that moment: “It’s okay. Mama’s got you.”
And then, a truck rolled up beside her, slow and steady. Its shadow stretched across the sidewalk like a lifeline. The rumble of the engine felt like a rescue.
