18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Z ara climbed into her car, easily a million degrees even though it had been sitting under the trees in front of Will's house all day.

She glanced at the twisty-tie ring on her finger. The white-and-orange stripes added to the adorableness. She wasn't sure why it was so hard to believe that Will truly loved her and wouldn't leave. But she was starting to.

Leaving and being alone at AJ's apartment wasn't how she wanted to spend her evening, but she didn't have a choice. Will had Bible study tonight. She adored that he took his relationship with God seriously. It led her to want to stay regular with her quiet time too and maybe even join a Bible study.

She drove down the road, and when she saw Logan on his motorcycle heading to Will's, she waved.

Lord, help Logan and AJ to work out whatever differences they have. Restore that friendship.

Zara still couldn't wrap her mind around the friendships she'd found—well, that God had given her—since she moved to Hazel Hill. The last time she remembered having a set of good friends was all the way back in the summer before sixth grade. It had been the best summer of riding bikes and exploring the creek that ran behind their neighborhood. It had been amazing. Of course, that had ended. The rest of them had all ended up going to a private middle school, but her mom couldn't afford that. Her drugs and alcohol had cost too much.

Zara shook the thoughts loose from her mind and turned down the street to her apartment. Shoot. Wrong way. She needed to go to AJ's, not hers. She'd have to take the long way.

Passing by the trailer park where Miley lived, Zara wondered how the young mom and her son were doing. Was Brett continuing to be a monster? Maybe Zara should check on them.

She pulled into the second entrance to the neighborhood and spotted Miley and Corbin at the playground, so she parked. Jumping out of her car, she waved at Miley.

The woman's face lit at the sight of Zara, and she walked toward her.

"Hey, Miley, how are you doing?"

"I'm good. What brings you to our neighborhood? Doesn't look like you're on duty."

"I'm not. I was headed home, so I thought I'd stop and check on you." She signed to Miley. How is the ASL coming?

Miley shook a flat hand with spread fingers back and forth to say, so-so .

Good. You'll get there.

Thanks. "I was actually able to communicate with Claudia some. And she started teaching me some more."

"Excellent. All you needed was to get started."

Miley chuckled. "I guess so. Corbin has learned some too. It's nice to be able to tell him something without disturbing Brett."

"Is Brett giving you trouble?"

Miley shook her head. "No, he's been great. He was in a great mood yesterday, even took us to Bob Evan's for brunch."

"That's nice."

"Yeah. Zara, I wanted to say thank you for checking in on me. It means a lot. My family hasn't talked to me in years, and it's great to know someone cares. I don't get it, but thank you."

"Of course. I understand what it's like to not have anyone."

"But you've got that good looking cop. Will, was it?"

"I do now. I didn't have anyone before Hazel Hill. God is good though."

"Is He?"

"I didn't always think so, but I do believe He is. Without Him I'd still be in a pit of self-destruction. He's the One Who brought me out of it. It was believers who pointed me to Him and came along beside me and became my friends." Zara wanted to add that she'd still be stuck in that bathroom, but Miley didn't need to know about that.

"Hmm. Maybe you can tell me more sometime, but I probably should get back home before Brett gets home from work." She placed her hand beside her mouth to project her voice. "Corbin, one more thing."

Lord, help Miley to be open to hearing about You. Give me the words to communicate Your truth to her.

"Thanks again for stopping by. It was so nice to chat with you."

"You too."

Miley turned and gave Zara a hug. "Seriously. Thank you." As Miley pulled away from the hug, her face turned ashen.

"What's wrong?" Zara turned. Brett was pulling into the neighborhood.

"Corbin. Now. Bye, Zara." Miley ran and scooped up Corbin and ran to their trailer home as fast as her legs would carry her.

Oh no. Lord, keep Miley safe.

Zara drove away from the trailer home community, continuing to pray for Miley. Was she going to be okay? Zara wondered if she should at least drive by and make sure Brett wasn't angry with Miley, but she also didn't want to make it worse for the young mom.

Zara knew what those kinds of guys could be like if someone got in their business. So leaving it for now was probably best, but Zara would check on Miley again soon.

But what could she do now? The idea of going back to an empty apartment didn't thrill her. AJ said she'd be home around nine, but that was over two hours from now.

Her stomach growled. She definitely needed to eat, but she wasn't in the mood for anything she'd put in AJ's fridge. Plus, it was too hot to turn the oven on. But she really wasn't in the mood for fast food. Miley's mention of Bob Evan's made Zara think of her favorite mac and cheese. That's what she needed.

Walmart wasn't too far away either. She turned at the next light and headed to the store. At least there she wouldn't be alone. With that many people around, it would probably be safer than being by herself. Will probably wouldn't be impressed by her going out alone. She'd told him she was going back to AJ's apartment, and it wasn't a lie—that's where she was headed, eventually, but food was also important.

She pulled into the parking lot and watched to see if any cars had followed her in. Now she was being paranoid.

With her loaded purse slung across her body and her phone in her hand, she entered the store and grabbed a cart. A little excessive for just grabbing mac and cheese, but she'd probably end up with a bunch more stuff anyway. Will had promised to rope Logan in and help her move more of her stuff, including her furniture, to AJ's tomorrow, so she should probably grab something to feed them for lunch.

Zara wandered through the store, starting with the toiletries, then on to the housewares, to the clothes, and finally to the food. She went up and down every aisle. Breaking the cardinal rule of grocery shopping, she bought entirely too much that looked good to her hungry self.

She found the mac and cheese and a quick-mix salad and walked toward the checkout. A jar of hot fudge caught her eye. Oooo! I need that. Okay, maybe not need. She chuckled at herself and stuck it in the cart.

Her cart was entirely too full for a simple trip to get something for dinner. It was also pushing eight o'clock. She'd been in the store for over an hour.

Oh well.

She checked out and headed to her car. A wall of heat assaulted her. How was it still so hot at eight o'clock?

She'd need to lower her windows immediately. The car was going to be an oven. Leaving the cart at the back of the vehicle, she opened the door. When she leaned in to turn the engine on enough to lower the windows, her purse swung around and yanked on her neck. "Ugh." She took it off and stuffed it beneath the seat.

Her phone beeped. "Now what?" She pulled it out. It was dying. Fine, I'll charge you.

She plugged it in then went to the back of the car and began unloading the groceries into the trunk.

The low rumble of an old car pulling down the aisle alerted her, but a child's cry in the opposite direction stole her attention. The low sun glared in her eyes and kept her from spotting the child who was crying.

She picked up another handful of bags from the cart.

A muscular arm wrapped around her body, and a thick hand clasped over her mouth.

Her heart froze. This couldn't be happening again. She tried to scream, but nothing came out—let alone made it through the hand.

The bags dropped to the ground and glass shattered. Not the hot fudge!

She had to break free. She kicked and thrashed, but the man who held her was bigger and stronger. She kicked the cart, and it rolled until it smashed into the car next to her.

He pulled her away and let go of her mouth for a split second, but her voice was useless. He opened the door and shoved her into the back seat.

The door slammed behind her.

He jumped in the passenger seat. "Hit it." The man's voice was familiar.

Zara tried to push herself up off the seat, but the driver floored the gas pedal. The centrifugal force flung Zara into the back of the seat and then against the door as they drove.

The tires squealed with another turn.

God, help me!