BROOKS:
My truck kicked up a plume of dust as I drove along the winding dirt road that split through acres of farmland. In the hazy morning sunlight, the land around me seemed endless—golden fields stretching as far as the eye could see, dotted with patches of forest here and there. It should have been peaceful, but my heart hammered in my chest. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles showed white.
I was going to see Sawyer. Hattie’s father.
The night I nearly beat him to death still haunted my dreams. I pictured his face—bloodied, eyes wide with both defiance and panic, even as he tried to ward off my blows. I woke up in cold sweats some nights, the guilt coiling inside me like a viper. Our last encounter had ended with Hattie’s dress drenched in blood. Our baby gone.
Tha
