Page 6 of My Hotshot

We’d gotten married when I found out I was pregnant. It hadn’t been some great romantic proposal. Just a courthouse wedding because it was “the right thing to do.” Plans change when a baby’s involved.

Lottie had been born in the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of college. Lee had promised he’d take care of us. In his own way, I guess he did.

The only reason we’d even lasted past the first year was because of his mom. Maggie.

If I was being truthful with myself, Maggie was the reason I’d stayed with Lee for as long as I had. And in a strange twist of fate, she had been the one to urge me to leave him.

Except… she never got to see it. Not like the way I wanted her to. Never got to see me and Lottie finally free.

A lump rose in my throat, and I reached up to swipe a tear off my cheek before it could fall onto the bag of shredded cheese.

Maggie had saved me more times than I could count over the past fifteen years. At the end of the day, I knew she loved her son, but she also knew what he was. She knew the way he talked to me, how he chipped away at me like I was something disposable.

She had been there to soften the blows.

To watch Lottie when I needed to escape. To bring me coffee and soft words when I didn’t have the strength to cry. To quietly remind me that I deserved more.

She never outright told me to leave, not until the very end.

Lee had never hit me. Not with fists. But he had a way of slicing me open with words, dragging me down into a version of myself I didn’t even recognize. The first time I found out he was cheating, it shattered me.

The second time cracked what I had managed to rebuild.

By the third woman, I didn’t even cry. I just accepted it.

So long as he was good to Lottie, I could take it. I learned how to step around him like broken glass and avoid the sharp edges.

But once Stephanie came into the picture? Everything changed.

Stephanie was too smug. Too confident. Too comfortable in my home and around my daughter. She had plans. She thought she could push me aside, take my place, and play mother to my baby.

And that was a big, fat, hell no.

Even bigger than mine was Maggie’s. That woman saw straight through her, and she’d had enough.

She helped me leave. Distracted Lee, covered for me, and packed up my things when he wasn’t looking. Booked a U-Haul. Wrote a check.

Eight months ago, I left Lee.

Four days later, Maggie was gone.

Struck by a drunk driver on her way home from the pharmacy. It had been raining that night.

A part of me died with her.

I owed her this life. I owed her this fresh start, this boring beige ranch house, and the crisper drawer that barely opened.

Even though I knew she knew how thankful I was, I wanted her to see me. I wanted her to see Lottie and me living. Thriving.

Free.

And now she never would.

A low sob tore its way out of my throat before I could stop it. I dropped the box of spaghetti noodles onto the counter and pressed my palms to the cool granite. I leaned forward and dropped my chin to my chest.

“I miss you,” I whispered.

There was no reply, no warmth in the room except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant chirp of a bird outside.

---