Josh’s chin jutted out, reminding her of his father. When Brad had died in Afghanistan their lives had imploded. Now she and Josh lived in Savannah barely making it.

She wanted a better life for her son. That meant finding a better job, which meant training. Culinary school cost money.

Waiting to cross Bay Street, Cheryl switched the box she carried to her other hand and caught Josh’s arm. Mid-May and the temperature, along with tourist traffic, had soared. At Fitzgerald House, where she worked, all the rooms were full. She’d been lucky the day she’d found their ad for maid service. Now she cooked more than cleaned at the B and B.

Once she and Josh crossed Bay Street, he pulled away and ran to the River Street steps.

“Slow down! Hang on to the railing.” She sped up, not wanting to lose sight of his blond hair. “Josh!”

As she descended, the brackish scent of the river mingled with the aroma of onions and hot oil from nearby restaurants. Tourists clogged River Street checking out the shops and pubs.

Josh disappeared.

Her heart pounded. Six months ago he’d rarely left her side. Her life had been easier when he’d still been afraid.

Up ahead, she spotted a flash of blond hair as Josh stumbled on River Street’s flagstones. When they got to the apartment, they would have a long talk about safety.

She broke into a run, jostling a man as he exited a bar. The scent of bourbon washed over her. “Excuse me.”

“Hey, pretty lady,” he called. “Slow down. I’ll buy you a drink.”

She shuddered. Not in this lifetime.

She caught Josh as he stared into the candy shop.

“Don’t run off.” She grabbed his hand, panting from her rush. “I couldn’t see you.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“You’re six.” And next week Josh would finish kindergarten. How had he grown so fast? “You know better than to run in this crowd.”

He pointed. “Can I get candy?”

“Not today.” Not after this behavior.

Scowling, Josh held her hand until they got to their warehouse apartment building.

She dug in her purse for her keys, longing to get inside. Her feet ached from standing and decorating two hundred cupcakes for this weekend’s wedding.

“How was school?” she asked.

“Okay. Tommy threw up.”

She winced. Don’t let Josh get sick.

Juggling a bag, her purse and the box, she unlocked the door. “Can you take the bag?”

They headed down the hallway to their apartment.

“What’s in the box?” he asked.

“Cupcakes.”

“Can I have one now?”

She shook out the apartment key. “Once you finish your chores.”

“Let me help with that.” The bourbon man from the street snatched the bakery box away.

How did he get into the building? She grabbed for the box. “We’re fine.”

He held it above his head. “I’m just being neighborly.”

Josh glared. “You don’t live here.”

The guy laughed, his alcoholic stench washing over her.

She jammed her key into the lock, pushed open the door and held out her hand for the box. “Thank you.”

He leaned close. Too close. He was big. Almost as big as her brother-in-law, Levi.

She shuddered. When Brad had died two years ago, Levi had invited her and Josh to live with him. Moving in with Levi had been a big mistake.

“How ’bout I come in?” His words were slurred.

The odor of cigarettes and booze threw her back to her childhood. The lead weight of memories pinned her in place. She was afraid to move. Afraid to push past him for fear he’d hit her like Mama used to.

“Mom!” Josh yanked on her hand.

“Kid, go inside,” the guy said. “I wanna talk to your mom.”

She inched back, bumping into the wall. No escape. She wanted to duck and curl into a ball. Then when the blows came, they wouldn’t hurt as much as a punch in the belly.

“What’s your name?” He caged her to the wall with his arms.

“Leave.” Her voice was a whisper.

Josh kicked the man’s shin. “Get away from my mom.”

“Cut it out.” The guy pushed Josh into the door.

“Don’t touch my son.” She tried to shout, but the words were as weak as her knees.

“What’ssss your name?” His slur grew.

“Move.” She couldn’t get past him to the apartment.

He sniffed her neck. “You smell like cookies.”

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