Chapter 1Drawing Straws with My Cheating Husband

My husband had a condition he liked to call "decision paralysis."

Whenever he couldn't make up his mind, he would make me and my best friend, Alyssa, draw toothpicks. Short end makes the call.

When my daughter, Sophie, wanted to go to the beach for summer break, I drew the long end and Alyssa drew the short. So the whole family spent the weekend camping in the damp mountain air.

When Sophie’s stomach was acting up and I wanted to make her some warm broth, Alyssa drew the short end again. My three-year-old was forced to chew on charred, greasy barbecue.

By midnight, Sophie was burning up, her little body locked in febrile seizures.

I broke down, begging Keith to start the car and drive us down the winding mountain pass to the hospital. But he was standing in the yellow glow of the lantern, his head bowed, gently detangling Alyssa’s bleached strands from the zipper of his fleece jacket.

Alyssa frowned, crossing her arms with an irritated pout.

"Megan, come on. Driving down these switchbacks in the pitch black is dangerous. Kids get fevers all the time—just give her some Tylenol and let her sleep it off."

She nudged Keith with her hip. "Besides, if Keith drives off, aren't all the fireworks we bought just going to waste?"

Cold dread pooled in my gut. I spun around, pulling out my phone to dial 911, but Keith snatched it right out of my hand before the call could connect.

"Alyssa’s right," Keith said, his tone infuriatingly level. "Kids spike fevers. A dose of medicine will knock it right out. Why drag everyone down the mountain?"

Seeing my face turn pale with rage, his expression melted into that familiar, rehearsed helplessness.

"Look, you have a point too. But you know I freeze up under pressure. How about... the old rule? Draw toothpicks. Short end gets the final say."

In my arms, Sophie was drifting in and out of consciousness, whimpering in pain. Desperate, I gritted my teeth and pulled a wooden stick from Keith’s closed fist.

Alyssa’s was shorter. Again.

Except this time, under the flickering glare of the camping lantern, I caught it. I saw Keith’s hand, tucked halfway behind his back, deliberately snapping the tip off Alyssa’s toothpick before holding it up.

He shook his head with an exaggerated sigh of regret. "Alyssa got the short one. We stay."

In an instant, the last three years of so-called "fairness" shattered into pieces. Every coin toss, every drawn straw, every rigged piece of wood—it was all a staged performance.

If he loved playing house with her that much, I was done being their audience.

* * *

I hoisted Sophie tighter against my chest, turning toward the gravel road, but Alyssa stepped directly into my path, a patronizing smile plastered across her face.

"Megan, sweetie, I know you’re anxious, but you're being neurotic. Kids get sick every other week." She reached out, attempting to pull Sophie from my arms, even using her thumb to peel back my daughter’s dropping eyelid. "Look at her. Toddlers put on acts all the time. Five minutes watching the sparklers and a bite of food, and she'll be right as rain."

Horrified, I jerked back and headed straight for the campsite's rental utility cart.

If they wouldn't drive me, I’d drive myself down.

Alyssa saw through my move instantly. She darted over, yanked the key from the ignition, and held it up with a smug grin.

She turned to Keith, whining playfully. "Keith, look at her! Megan’s welshing on the bet again. She plays the game, but every time she loses, she throws a tantrum."

Keith’s brow furrowed, his voice sharpening with genuine irritation.

"Megan, we agreed to leave things to fate. Did you already forget what happened last time?"

His words hit like ice water. "You cost your parents their lives. If you rush down this mountain in a panic and wreck the cart, can you live with the guilt of killing our daughter too?"

He sounded so righteous. So authoritative.

"Fate." God, I had actually believed his gentle, hesitant act for years. I had let him convince me that leaving choices to chance would keep us safe.

And what was his "fate" in reality? Snapping toothpicks behind his back, gambling with our daughter’s life to indulge his side piece.

Every ounce of love and respect I had ever harbored for this man curdled into revulsion.

I extended an open palm toward Alyssa, my voice dangerously steady. "The toothpick was about whether Keith drives. I’m not asking for his help anymore. Give me the key."

Keith immediately stepped in front of Alyssa, glaring down at me. "I said you’re not going! You lost the draw, Megan. Stop acting like a spoiled brat. What kind of example are you setting for Sophie?"

"I" was the one setting a bad example? While they cheated with broken wood?

Alyssa rolled her eyes and, with a flick of her wrist, tossed the brass key straight into the dense, overgrown brush along the ravine's edge.

"There. Now stop throwing a fit. Sophie is fine. Keith and I are going to set off the mortars."

I stared into the blackness where the key had vanished. My chest felt hollowed out.

Carefully setting Sophie down on a wooden bench, I knelt by the ledge, reaching into the sharp brambles to search for the metal glint. The drop-off was steep and loose. The moment my boot pressed into the dirt, the ground gave way, nearly sending me plunging down the rocky slope.

Behind me, Sophie let out a weak, shuddering sob. "Mommy... cold... I'm so cold..."

I scrambled back from the ledge immediately. I had packed a thick fleece blanket specifically for the mountain chill. I tore through my duffel bag, but the main compartment was empty.

Then I heard Keith’s soft murmur behind me.

"Wrap this around your shoulders, Alyssa. It gets chilly up here."

I spun around. Sophie’s lavender blanket was draped over Alyssa’s bare shoulders.

I snatched my daughter into my arms and marched straight over. "She's burning with a fever and shivering violently. Give me back her blanket."

Keith scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Toddlers run hot. She's shivering because you bundle her up like an Eskimo. Smothering her is what caused the fever in the first place."

A deafening "boom" split the night air.

The ground shook beneath us. A barrage of gold and crimson sparks exploded against the dark canopy. Sophie convulsed in my arms, terrified, her tiny frame trembling against my chest.

Thick, sulfurous smoke rolled over us. Sophie began to gag and cough, her flushed cheeks turning an alarming shade of mottled purple.

I had called the local emergency dispatch from my watch, but the paramedics had warned me that the nearest station was at the base of the ridge—at least six miles away.

I screamed at Keith over the roar of the fireworks: "She's choking! Look at her! The ambulance is at the foot of the hill—just drive us down to meet them halfway!"

Before Keith could answer, Alyssa cut in, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "That's not fair, Megan. I won fair and square. Keith promised he'd stay and watch the finale with me."

Sophie coughed weakly, reaching out a tiny, trembling hand toward Keith’s jacket. "Daddy... hurts... please help Sophie..."

Keith took her small hand, giving it a brief, patronizing pat. "Daddy loves you, pumpkin. But Mommy lost the draw. Rules are rules."

My hands curled into white-knuckled fists. I wanted nothing more than to smash my knuckles straight into his smug, handsome face.

Keith reached into his pocket and pulled out another pair of toothpicks.

"Tell you what... one more draw. Otherwise, I just can't make up my mind."

I watched him pretend to break one out of sight, cupping them in his palm.

The very last ember of whatever affection I had once held for him died right then. Snuffed out completely.

When I didn't reach for his hand, he grabbed my wrist, forcing my fingers around one of the sticks. "Come on! You were just screaming about how urgent it is, and now you're freezing up? Make up your mind so I don't have to!"

I let go of the wood and stepped back.

I didn't give a damn about his rigged little game anymore.

I hoisted Sophie securely onto my back, securing her legs around my waist, and turned toward the dark, unpaved descent.

Behind me, beneath the booming canopy of colored fire, Keith shouted into the wind:

"Megan! You drew the long one! Alyssa won again! I have to stay!"

"Tell Sophie to open her eyes! Look at the sky, baby—Daddy bought these for you!"

"Daddy?"

I tightened my grip on my daughter and broke into a dead run down the mountain road.

The moment he pulled out those toothpicks while his child was seizing, he forfeited any right to that word.