Page 23 of River Wild

“When could you start?”

“Tomorrow,” I suggest.

She thoughtfully purses her lips. “How would you feel about working the breakfast shift?”

“I’d feel great.” And that’s the truth.

“Okay. Be here tomorrow morning at six a.m. sharp, and I’ll show you the ropes.”

“I’m … hired?” I ask, daring to hope.

Her expression softens, and she smiles. “You’re hired.”

My own smile is bigger than this town. “Thank you so much, Sadie. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“Work the breakfast shift first, and we’ll see if you still feel that way,” she jokes.

I laugh.

It feels light. I feel light.

“Okay”—I start for the door—“I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Carrie,” she softly calls my name, and I stop and turn around. She takes a step toward me, her voice lowering. “I just want to say … I’m really glad you got away from … the door.”

The moment suddenly feels weighted with unspoken words. But also a kindred spirit. Like I’m finally talking to someone who understands.

Who knows what it’s like to live the life I had.

Who gets why I still feel the need to lie and hide exactly where my bruises really came from.

The shame that still lives inside me.

I give a small smile, my hand pressing to my stomach. “Me, too,” I say quietly. I’m about to turn away when something stops me, and I find myself saying, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” She smiles.

“Did the, um … did the … door you ran from, did it ever find you?”

“No,” she confidently tells me. “My door never found me.”