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grown to love.
    Growing up she’d never felt like she belonged. When she found out she’d been adopted, it made sense. The man she thought of as her father died when she was eight. When her mom remarried two years later, “Preacher Jim” wasn’t her favorite person in the world.
    A strict and unyielding man, Nevvie proved to be anything but compliant. He never tried to molest her but she’d be damned—literally—if she’d spend all her free time doing nothing but reading the Bible as he insisted.
    A voracious reader, Nevvie’s favorite Nancy Drew and other books were taken away, deemed too immoral. He permitted only school texts and her Bible. He forbid any music except the Christian radio station. No TV allowed. Or movies.
    Preacher Jim insisted the Earth was only a few thousand years old despite what scientists said. Even at ten Nevvie knew that was pretty damn stupid. While all her friends wore jeans or shorts, Preacher Jim forced her to wear long-sleeved, ankle-length dresses.
    At twelve she ran away for the first time, which puzzled everyone except Nevvie, because she earned straight-A grades. She ran away at least once a month to her second cousin’s house for sanity and sympathy, riding the school bus with her the next morning. Finally, Preacher Jim deemed her a child of the Devil and encouraged Nevvie’s mother to reveal the truth about her parentage and give her cousin’s mother custody of the unruly girl.
    Nevvie flourished once free of her stepfather’s restrictive tethers. Even her teachers noted with confusion that while most children should be failing by that point, if anything, her already impressive grades improved. She graduated with honors and an academic scholarship to the University of South Florida. Her mother and Preacher Jim and two younger half-brothers moved to Utah or some godforsaken place when she was sixteen, and she hadn’t heard from them since.
    She didn’t want to.
    Everything was on track until late one August night, when Nevvie was eighteen and in her first semester at USF. The alternator on her beater Chevy died on the way home from her job at the Bowl-A-Rama on 56th Street . She made the mistake of trusting Steve Moses, a guy she knew from high school, to give her a ride home in his daddy’s brand new Jag.
    She’d been a virgin. A piece of her died when he left her lying on the side of the road. She supposed she was lucky he didn’t kill her. She dropped out of college and wanted to put Tampa far behind her, especially after Steve Moses’ daddy bought him out of trouble and blamed her for the whole thing.
    Now, back in Tampa, her luck had finally changed for the better.
    She rolled over and feigned sleep when she heard Alex stumble in around two a.m. She was too excited to sleep.
    Alex staggered into the bathroom then fell into bed smelling of beer and perfume. She’d never let him fuck her without a condom, thank God. She especially didn’t want him touching her now. It didn’t matter that Tyler and Thomas were gay, she was their girl.
    It’s all she wanted to be.
     
    * * * *
     
     
    The days crawled and Nevvie’s stomach twisted into knots. She resisted the urge to call Tyler and make sure the offer still stood, afraid Alex would catch her. She hid the necklace in her shoe when in the shower. Otherwise she always wore it, even in bed. There was no way in hell she would take it off.
    Thursday morning. Emancipation. Freedom.
    Alex didn’t get ready for work like he normally did on Thursdays. Nevvie fought the urge to pressure him out the door. That would set him off and he’d never leave.
    She washed the dishes and tried to act normal. By seven, Alex had made no move to get ready. “Don’t you have to go to work today?”
    “No. I’m going to drive you and take the car. I need it.”
    No! She froze, trying to think.
    “What’s wrong with you?”
    “Nothing,” she lied. “They’re very private. They don’t want people knowing where they live. You screw