But that’s why Bonnie had gotten into this work. Thirteen years ago, helping others had been the only thing that made her feel even remotely okay—like each good deed could stitch shut a piece of the damage inside her.
Now, she did it because it gave her something deeper—purpose.
Down the hall, she stepped into her office. It was small and there were still boxes stacked against the wall. She hadn’t had much of a chance to unpack because work had started on day one and it hadn’t stopped.
The second she lowered into her seat in front of the laptop, she sighed. Even though she hated to admit it, the walk to work—a walk anywhere—made her nervous. That someone would see her and openly hate her. That she’d run into the White family.
She massaged her temples. She was going to see them eventually. Would they still hate her? Blame her?
“Bonnie.”
She jumped and turned. “Shelley. Good morning.”
Shelley was both the shelter manager and a counselor. She was nice but also seemed a bit…cold for a counselor. But maybethat was because the counselors at the shelter in San Francisco had been so warm and friendly thatanyonewould feel cold in comparison.
“How are you doing with the program?” Shelley asked, all business.
As the program coordinator, it was Bonnie’s job to organize activities for the women and apply for funding and grants. “Good. I’ve organized some art therapy for this afternoon. There’s also a series of life skills workshops, focusing on cooking, budgeting, and cleaning. And I’m going to run a session on rental applications and the process of searching for housing on Friday.”
Shelley nodded, not even a hint of a smile on her face. “Okay. What about something physical to get the women active?”
“Well, I’ve been trying to find a yoga and breathwork instructor, but there doesn’t seem to be many options in Amber Ridge. I’m going to widen my search and see if there’s anyone in Bozeman who’d make the drive.”
Shelley frowned. “You’re sticking within budget, right?”
The budget was small. “Uh, yes, but I’m also applying for grants.”
“Good. It sounds like you’re off to a good start.” Shelley went to step away, only to suddenly turn back. “Oh, I ordered a couple of pies from The Tea House for the women. I need you to pick them up.”
Bonnie internally cringed, but that was stupid. She’d moved back to this town. That involved going places. But then, picking up pies wasn’t exactly in her job description. Though it felt too early to be telling her boss that. “Sure. When do you need me to go?”
“Now. Thanks.” Then she was gone. Which was probably a good thing because she missed the way Bonnie’s entire body recoiled at the request.
It was fine. The Tea House was only a fifteen-minute walk. The problem was, The Tea House seemed to be whereeveryonecongregated in this town these days. Plus, in the week she’d been here, she hadn’t seen her brother or sister yet. Noah had been asking.
Would any of her family be there? Or Dean’s family?
She shook her head. It didn’t matter who was there. She was a grown-ass woman, and she’d see them all eventually. She grabbed her cell and shoved it into her back pocket before moving out of the office.
She’d just stepped outside when she heard it—crying.
Where was that coming from?
She frowned as she rounded the side of the building to see Sarah, Chett’s mother. Her shoulders were hunched, and her head down as she looked at her phone screen.
“Sarah?”
The woman spun and quickly straightened.
Bonnie tried to gentle her voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I heard you crying and wanted to check on you.”
The woman scrubbed the tears from her cheeks. “It’s fine. I’m jumpy at the moment.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Not really. But that’s what happens when you have a child with a psychopath.”
Bonnie frowned. “He doesn’t know you’re here though, right?”
