Page 1 of Mine to Keep

Chapter1

Brynleigh Tinsley rested her hands on her round belly and inhaled sharply. The warm, salty air tickled her nose. She stared at the small, two-bedroom cottage as butterflies filled her gut. After six months of hiding out in one musty hotel after another in the middle of nowhere, she finally felt safe enough to begin her new life.

She smiled. This was it. Her safe harbor.

A place she could call home.

At least, for now.

She glanced over her shoulder. Across the street, a man about her age mowed his front lawn. Two doors down, a young woman planted flowers with her children. Another family rode their bikes down the street.

No one here wanted to hurt her or take away her child.

She glanced down at the life growing inside her body. “We’re going to be fine,” she whispered.

Living in a place like Lighthouse Cove in south Florida had been something she’d fantasized about for years. It didn’t have to be Florida, or the ocean. Just a place where the sun shone, and she could see and hear water on a daily basis. Her late husband had hated tropical weather. Loathed anything this close to sea level. He much preferred the mountains and the snow. He used to say that if he weren’t working to stay warm, it wasn’t worth it.

Well, her husband wasn’t here anymore to tell her what to do, and his family was out of her life.

For good.

That thought was still surreal.

She blew out a puff of air. No way would she shed another tear. Nor would she live in fear. Not anymore. This was her time.

She patted her belly.

“Let’s get unpacked.”

Not that she had a lot of things. Three suitcases and a duffle bag, to be exact. She’d done her best to save as much money as she could over the last few years of her marriage. Actually, it was more like stealing from the grocery allowance and hiding it where her husband wouldn’t look. And it wasn’t much. Barely enough to live off. But it was a start.

She lifted her big bag and set it on the sidewalk. The area was even cuter than the pictures she’d seen online. From where she stood, she could look down the street and see the center of town, along with the small harbor that opened into the intracoastal, and the inlet that gave way to the ocean. The scene was right out of a movie set. She loved the little anchors on all the streetlights and how people strolled through town wearing bathing suits and flip-flops. It had a chill vibe. Exactly what she and the baby needed after the year she’d been through.

A cold shiver crawled across her skin. She glanced up and down the street. Gripping her suitcase, she scurried up the sidewalk. The feeling of a million needles prickling her back reminded her that she could change her name and her hair color, but the possibility that Mark and Barb Perish would find her was always there. And if that were to ever happen, Bryn knew the consequences would be worse than death.

The landlord had texted her the code to the keypad and told her to call his buddy who lived a few blocks away on the water if she had any problems at all. Some firefighter, who moonlighted as a handyman. Chip had said the guy’s name was Jamison and that he could handle any problems she might have.

Well, she didn’t plan on having any issues. If she did, she’d figure it out. Wasn’t that what do-it-yourself videos were for? She couldn’t afford to get too close to anyone or rely on someone other than herself. It was a small price to pay to keep her and the baby safe.

The second she stepped into the cottage, she sneezed.

Not once.

Not twice.

But three times.

Blinking, she saw dust particles dancing in the sunlight beaming through the windows. When Chip said that he’d reduce her first month’s rent if she cleaned, he’d assured her that the place wasn’t in bad shape, and he’d given it a thorough cleaning after the last tenants left.

But that had been two months ago, which meant this place had been sitting empty for that long, collecting cobwebs and all sorts of tiny particles that were now floating around and making her skin itch.

She turned in a circle, scanning the small family room. A picture of a sea turtle rested on the floor next to a dark blue sofa in desperate need of a cover. A matching, oversized chair and ottoman sat in the corner. A television took up space over a working fireplace—and a thick layer of dust coated everything.

It could be worse.

Quickly, she checked the two bedrooms and the one shared bathroom, thankful that the landlord had kept his promise and put a brand-new crib in the smaller room. Only it wasn’t assembled. Well, she still had a few weeks to go, and it couldn’t be that hard to put together.

She’d wanted to be independent, and this was her chance to learn how to fend for herself for the first time in her life.

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