“I wasn’t planning to.”

Behind me, my father quietly picked his jacket back up. That was exactly why I loved him.

He hadn’t rescued me by throwing a punch. He’d reminded me that I still had the freedom to walk away.

But as we carried our bags toward his truck, Travis shouted one last threat from the porch.

“You have no idea what my mother and I have done. By Monday, you won’t have a job, a house, or a dollar to your name.”

Dad paused beside the truck.