Page 4 of Doc's Decision

After what feels like an eternity, Harlow’s sagging porch comes into view.

Light spills from the windows, a beacon of hope in the gloom.

I stumble up the steps, a sob lodged in my throat.

Please be home.

Please don’t turn me away.

I barely finish knocking before the door swings open, revealing Harlow’s surprised face. “Mandy? What the hell?—”

“I’m done,” I choke out, the dam finally breaking.

Hot tears spill down my cheeks as I collapse into her arms. “I can’t go back there, Harlow. I just can’t.”

She holds me tight, her embrace a lifeline. “Shh, I got you,” she soothes, stroking my matted hair. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure this out together.”

Harlow guides me inside, kicking the door shut behind us.

Her mother looks up from the couch, concern, etching deep lines into her face.

I brace myself for the barrage of questions, the judgment sure to follow.

But instead, she rises and wraps me in a fierce hug, her flowery perfume enveloping me. “You’re safe now, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re staying here tonight, no arguments.”

I nod mutely, too overwhelmed to protest.

Harlow leads me to the bathroom, pressing a wad of tissues into my hand. “Get cleaned up,” she orders gently. “I’ll make up the couch for you.”

As I mechanically wipe away the grime and blood, snippets of hushed conversation drift through the thin walls.

“. . . can’t send her back there, Mom. You know how bad it is . . .”

“. . . course not. Poor thing’s been through enough . . .”

“. . . gotta get out of this town. Both of us. Before it’s too late . . .”

A flicker of hope sparks in my chest.

Maybe, just maybe, this is the turning point I’ve been desperate for.

A chance to break free from the cycle of misery and start fresh somewhere new.

Somewhere far away from the ghost of Tony’s fists and Mom’s broken promises.

CHAPTER ONE

Doc

Present Day . . .

I take a deep breath and look down at the tiny, squirming bundle in my arms.

Bright blue eyes blink up at me, gazing with innocent curiosity.

My son, Kash.

It still hasn’t fully sunk in, even though it’s been a week since he was unceremoniously dumped on the clubhouse doorstep.

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