CHAPTER 1 JOLENE

I skid to a stop in Jeremy's driveway and I ring the bell before I start banging on the door.

I sort of wish Lincoln was with me.

I don't like going into this alone, but I'm here to protect Jonah, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for him.

The door opens, and Jeremy is red-faced and clearly angry. Alyssa is on her hands and knees behind him with a dustpan sweeping shards of something onto it.

"I'm here for Jonah," I say point blank.

"Excuse me?" he thunders at me. "It's my weekend!" Even from the short distance between us, I can smell the yeast of too much beer and cigarette smoke on him.

"Yeah, but when your kid calls you for pickup because he can't sleep over all the fighting, you rush right over." I keep my voice calm and matter of fact even though I'm ready to go postal on this idiot.

"Then call a goddamn lawyer," he hisses, and he slams the door in my face.

Oh fuck that. Fuck him. Fuck this entire fucking night.

I start banging on the door again, and I don't stop even when my fists are screaming in pain. I'm not leaving without Jonah.

A few moments pass before Alyssa opens the door. Her face is streaked with tears, but Jeremy isn't around. My best guess is that he went to pass out from whatever he did tonight.

"I'll go get him for you," she says softly.

"What's going on?" I ask as she waves me into the house.

"Jeremy went out with his friends from work and came home drunk," she says, her voice low and devoid of emotion as we walk through the house toward Jonah's room. "We got into it because he stayed out hours later than he said he would. He doesn't usually drink like this, not when Jonah's here anyway, but they were celebrating a new product they're launching soon, and I guess he had more than he should have."

"Are you okay?" I ask quietly.

We're not friends. She slept with Jeremy when I was pregnant with Jonah, after all. But I will always side with a woman who is in danger, even when she's the homewrecker who broke us up.

She did me a favor. I realize that now—but she doesn't deserve any of this. No one does.

She starts crying again, but she nods as we stop outside the hallway toward the kids' rooms. I can hear one of the little girls crying in her room, but I'm not sure which bedroom it's coming from. "I'm not in any danger. He'll sleep it off and everything will be back to normal tomorrow."

"Does this happen often?" I ask.

She shrugs and wipes away a tear without answering.

"If you need somewhere to go…" I trail off and let that hang between us. I can't exactly invite her to Sam's place. I'm already in the guest room, and the boys are sharing a room.

But if we have to make room for her safety, we will.

"It's fine. I appreciate that, but me and the girls…we're okay."

I nod. "If you're sure."

She presses her lips together, and she glances toward the opposite side of the house. "Yeah. I'm sure."

"Okay." I walk up to Jonah's door and knock softly. "Jonah? It's me."

The door opens, and he rushes into my waist, wrapping his arms around me. I lean down to hold him against me, and that heaviness in my chest only seems to worsen as he starts to cry.

"I'm going to take him home now," I tell Alyssa.

She nods. "I'm so sorry, Jonah." She ruffles his hair a little. "You deserve better."

"Thanks, Lyss," he says, and he gives her a quick hug before I usher him toward the front door.

"Call me if you need anything," I tell Alyssa, and she mouths a thank you before she closes the door behind us and presumably heads toward the bedroom with her two crying girls.

Jonah heaves out a heavy sigh once he's buckled into Cade's booster in the back. "Why do you have Sam's car?" he asks.

"Oh, uh…" I scramble to come up with a reason, and I feel terrible for lying to him. He's been through enough tonight. He deserves an honest answer, but I can't exactly tell him I'm sleeping with Lincoln Nash, the son of his grandfather's mortal enemy. "It's a long story." I leave it at that. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired."

"Well tomorrow's Sunday, and you can sleep in as late as you want. We'll go to Grammy and Pop-Pop's for pancakes and bacon whenever you get up. Sound good?" I make a mental note to ask my parents if we can come over for breakfast, but they make bacon every Sunday, and it's a standing invitation.

"Yeah," he says, his voice subdued, and my heart breaks that his father is the one who did this to him.

As soon as I get home, I'm emailing my lawyer so I can figure out how to change this custody agreement. I hate that Jeremy has this effect on my child, and if I can stop it from happening again, I will.

He's exhausted by the time we get home, and the house is quiet. Sam's asleep, and I assume she figured I wouldn't be coming home tonight.

I usher him into the house and tuck him into bed. I pepper his cheeks with a million kisses before I head toward the kitchen and leave a note for Sam on the counter so she isn't scared when she wakes up to find us both here.

And then I head toward my bedroom, ready to slip out of my clothes and into my pajamas so I can put this awful night in the past.

But when I flick on my light, I see the outline of a figure lying on my bed. I jump about a thousand feet into the air, my heart racing all the way up to my throat, and I'm about to scream when he waves at me and my brain catches up to the fear.

"Oh my God, you scared the shit out of me!" I whisper-yell.

Lincoln chuckles a bit. "I'm sorry. I know it's been a tough night on you, and I didn't want you to be alone."

"But your car isn't here—"

He shakes his head. "I took a Lyft over. What happened?"

Just as I finish relaying the story, my phone dings with a new text.

What now?

I heave out a breath as I check the message.

Rivera: So strange that Sam went to your kid's dad's place tonight and left with your kid. Or is it that you're driving your friend's car around now to avoid getting caught coming and going from the Coach's place? [shrug emoji]

"Fuck," I mutter.

"What now?" he asks, voicing the exact thought in my own head from a second ago.

I toss the phone to him while I change into my pajamas.

"This guy is a real fucking thorn," he says.

I purse my lips as I slide into bed beside him, and I take my phone and set it on the nightstand beside me. I turn back toward him and snuggle onto his chest as he loops an arm around my shoulders. "What are we going to do? He wants my job, and he's not going to stop until he gets it."

"Can you talk to your boss? Or maybe someone at HR?" he suggests. He presses his lips to the top of my head.

"What good will it do?" I ask. "Then he'll just have a bigger vendetta against me."

"Maybe they'd have additional suggestions for you. Maybe he can be transferred to a different department. He could cover a different team. I don't know." He's throwing out suggestions, but they're all things I've already thought about.

"He's an expert in football. He wanted this position."

"What about at another channel? What if you get him ousted at VG-oh-three but he's let go quietly and recommended elsewhere?" he suggests. "Could be a great new opportunity for him."

"Nobody has openings right now, so he's picking at the most vulnerable thread."

"You? Vulnerable?" He shakes his head. "Nope. You're smart, confident, and badass. You will find a way to take him down."

I wish I was as sure about that as he is.