Hell, Fire & Freedom (Fighting for Freedom) by Shannon Callahan Page A

back bedroom the best,” Tara offers. Marie leaves, smiling, and Tara pulls some forms on a clipboard from her bag, which is almost as tall as she is. She lays out stacks of papers along the kitchen island, and sets a pen beside them.
    “This is the lease agreement, so I’m going to have you sign this now. It’s basically just stating that you agree to live here until you’re able to get back on your feet, whether that be months or years from now. There’s no timeline—we’ll keep in touch to see how you’re doing,” she says, and I start to relax. That doesn’t sound so bad. She points to the next stack of papers on the island.
    “These are your divorce papers, and thanks to your statement yesterday, I got these fast tracked. I just need you to sign anywhere there’s a sticky, and I’ll make sure he signs them on his end, never knowing where they came from. It’s still going to take a little while to go through, but this is a great start,” Tara says in a more sympathetic tone. I finish up the lease papers and start signing the divorce papers without bothering to read them. So long as I’m free from Carl, I don’t care what else they have to say.
    “These forms are the name change you requested. The judge approved them, so all you have to do is sign. I also have Marie’s new ID card and your new license. They just used the photos on file from your old ones in Oregon. You are officially Brynn Elizabeth Vincent and Marie Abigail Vincent,” she says, handing us our new cards. I hand her back the completed forms and sign the name change papers quickly. I say my new name in my head proudly, Brynn Vincent .
    “This last form is an application for the Frothy Moustache ...” she says and I don’t catch another word. All I can think is that I saw him in there two days in a row, and I can’t fathom seeing him again. I can never go back there again! Without even bringing Blaze into the question, I made a mess in there just this morning! A mess Blaze cleaned up, I remind myself.
    “Did you say Frothy Moustache?” I whisper, cutting her off. “I have no coffee shop experience.” I pray that’s enough of an excuse.
    “No, but you do have experience in customer service at the diner you worked in before you were married to Carl. Isn’t that right?” Tara asks in a soothing tone. “I promise you, it won’t be any different. The manager there is phenomenal. She has hired several of our girls in the past. They don’t ask many questions, and they’re very accommodating for mental health days, court dates, and anything else you may need. You won’t find many places like that in New York. The interview is really just a formality, and I’m sure you’re going to fit right in,” she says.
    I wonder why she has all of this confidence in me when the only thing she knows about me is that I was stupid enough to let a man abuse me for five long years. Yes, I was thinking about Marie and trying to protect her at the time, but if I was smarter, I’m sure I could have found a way out sooner. I just want to scream that I’m a good for nothing klutz. I can’t carry a tray, I run into absolutely everything, and more importantly, everyone. I drop everything that comes into contact with my hands, I can’t cook, and I definitely can’t bake. That’s just the tip of the iceberg too. What if my job is to make those croissants or any of the other baked goods? I’ll ruin the company’s name, and then they won’t hire any more girls from the shelter. To top it all off, there’s Blaze. Just saying his name brings on a mixture of butterflies, embarrassment, and anxiety. My heart starts beating a mile a minute, and my palms are sweating. I look up from the floor, and I know Tara can see the panic in my eyes.
    “Brynn, if you want me to look for another job for you, I can. No questions asked. If you’re not ready for employment, that’s fine, too. We can wait a little while until you’re good and settled. Honestly,