Page 1 of Under One Roof

Chapter1

Andi

Four days, eight Red Bulls, and sixty-seven loops of my “I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar” playlist later, I have to call it.

I’ve let down Aretha, Alanis, Beyoncé, and my girl Kelly Clarkson in one fell swoop. Not to mention Helen Reddy. I’m not worthy to sing their songs, let alone roar.

I haven’t showered since Albuquerque. My sleep hasn’t been much better—a few hours at a time at rest stops off the interstate. I started getting punch-drunk somewhere in Indiana, and my car began smoking about five miles behind…wherever I am now.

Not Texas, that’s for sure.

Ten years after I left my family’s cattle ranch and everyone I knew in the dust, I couldn’t go crawling back with my tail between my legs. So instead of making the turn off I-10, I white-knuckled the steering wheel and kept right on driving. Like if I went far enough, fast enough, I could outrun my shame and embarrassment.

Pulling off onto the shoulder of the road, I let my head fall back against the rest and close my eyes, accepting my current fate.

I inhale a few times, then grab my cell phone, the date and time on the screen.

April 12th, 1:37.

Write it on the death certificate. The day Andrea Halton’s dreams well and truly died.

I put on my metaphorical big-girl panties and hop out of my Jeep, slamming the door to march around to the front of my hunk of junk. And because the universe hates me, not only is my car literally smoking, but it’s raining.

Perfect.

Perfect!

I pop the hood like I have any idea what I’m doing and stare at the sizzling engine with wires and twisty things and boxes that look like they might be important. My big-girl panties quickly sag.

Turning in a circle, the pavement slick under my boots, I search for a sign to let me know where I am. I’ve been so bleary-eyed and haven’t been paying much attention. Sorta just headed east.

As far as I could go.

Which is here, apparently.

I wipe my palms on my shorts and open the internet browser on my cell phone but stall out. What do I do next?

I have no idea.

All my life knowledge has evaporated.

Maybe it happened when I crossed the Mississippi. Everything I ever knew fell out of my head. Plunked right down into the river below.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I refuse to give in to the tears.

But it’s really hard not to. So, I bite harder and sniff a few times, blinking away the evidence.

“Think. Think,” I command myself. “Find a mechanic. Pull up the map. You can do this.”

I start typing, but before I can finish, a big truck parks in front of me.

This will be my real time of death, 1:42.

Though it’s the middle of the day, I tense up, ready to…fight. I guess. Or run. I’ve got little legs, but I can run pretty fast if need be. They didn’t call me “The Flash” on my fourth-grade basketball team for nothing.

I attempt to keep my breathing steady as I stand as tall as my five feet two inches will allow and watch as a figure steps out of the truck.

It’s a man.

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