Prologue

Nothing was ever handed to me. My old man taught me the value of never expecting kindness. My stepmother taught me that the only way you get to be first in life is to stand alone. I’ve managed. I’ve never gone hungry, or worn anything I was ashamed of because it was threadbare, at least not since I left home at seventeen and a half. I’ve never sold myself in order to eat; I’ve met women like that. It’s true I’ve had living arrangements that might be looked at as nearly that bad, but that’s only if you’re looking in. I have done some things I’m not proud of, but each one was the result of wanting something I was willing to make a hard choice to get. And, yes, I’ve made those “bad” choices along the way. Even if you don’t grow up with religion, you still know right from wrong, and the difference between good and not so good.

My name is Justine Meade, and in my forty-three years, there have only been a handful of people I have loved. No, that’s an exaggeration. Two. Two whom I lost because of stupidity and selfishness. One was my son. The other was my dog.