“Good morning,” she says with a laugh.
“Good morning. Lana found a job?”
“Yes, ma’am, a good one too. Glenn, Bloom, and Chester law firm hired her as an assistant. If it works out, they’ll pay for her to take classes to become a paralegal.”
“That’s fantastic.” It looks like Lana and her daughter, Jamie, will be a success story. Sometimes, they’re hard to come by. So many domestic violence survivors return to their abusers. Lana and Jamie came to us nearly a month ago, both covered in bruises, with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
S.B. housed them, provided lawyers to expedite her divorce, and helped with restraining orders. Thankfully, Jamie isn’t the husband’s child, so he has no visitation rights. Now Lana is on her way to a successful career. My heart feels lighter. I needed some good news today.
“Is Molly here?” Taking another volunteer along for the ride would at least alleviate the boredom of sitting in traffic.
“No, only the tutors and staff are here today.”
“Okay, well, I have to run. Mattresses to haul, you know.”
“You’re a dear,” Sarah says with a laugh.
As I make my way through the kitchen, Ms. Den calls to me. “Everly, hang on, I found someone to go with you.”
“Great, they can drive.”
Ms. Den laughs. “He’s waiting in the van.”
“Clear the door!” I call to Aggie, slipping my purse over my shoulder as I approach the back exit.
She checks the cameras to be sure no one is lurking to forcetheir way inside and replies, “Door’s clear! Drive safe, honey.”
My phone chirps with a text from a member of my book group, reminding me of tonight’s meeting. I’m texting a reply as I hop into the passenger seat of the van.
“Buckle up, Ms. Hall.” His smooth voice fills my ears, and my stomach plummets to my toes. It’s the tatted Adonis. I’m halfway out the van door when strong fingers wrap around my wrist. “Hey, Evie, relax. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m driving us to Bloomington.”
“Let go of me! What are you, some kind of stalker?”
“Evie, if you give me a second to explain…”
“Then explain. How the fuck do you know my last name, or that I volunteer for Striking Back? How did you find me?”
“Everly, I’m the founder of Striking Back. It’s my organization.”
“Bullshit! S.B. was founded by Mason…” My eyes fly up to meet his, and he releases my arm. “Shit. You’re Mason Reed.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Hall, although I have to say, you curse an awful lot. To answer your second question, I run a background check on all volunteers that work with S.B. and that typically includes your last name.” A small grin settles on his face as he waits for me to connect the dots.
“You recognized me at the diner?”
He nods.
Oh no. “And at the bank.” My head falls into my hands.
“Yes,” he admits.
“The day that just won’t die. I wasn’t supposed to see you again after…all that.”
“To be fair, you saw much more of me.” His eyes twinkle and his wicked grin makes me laugh, though I try not to. “Close the door, Evie. We have furniture to pick up.”
“The founder and CEO runs errands?”
“When it buys me time with a beautiful young girl.”
