Her probation had been transferred to Blaine, allowing Natalie to live with her mom, Derek, Astrid, and Ollie. The town that had once felt so stifling and confining was now her refuge. But in a way, Nat was still imprisoned—by gossip and judgment; shame and ridicule. She endured the sneers and whispers . . . even the abuse (Cole’s cousin, a girl of seventeen, had spat in her face at the grocery store). Nat could handle a lot now. And being the town pariah was far preferable to actual jail time.

Nat’s “job,” as it were, was to look after her younger siblings. Her legal battle had been costly for both her parents. While her dad had paid Matthew Hawley’s bills, her mom had spent money on flights, on groceries in New York, had missed months of work. Free childcare was a way for Natalie to attempt to repay her mom and Derek for their steadfast support. Besides, it would be virtually impossible for Nat to find regular employment in a town that knew who she was and what she had done.

She was enjoying bonding with Astrid and Oliver. Nat no longer resented their blond perfection; she loved their purity, their innocence. They adored their big sister unconditionally; even if they had known what she had done, it would not have impacted their affections. Each morning, Nat got up and made them breakfast. (Astrid favored cereal, while Ollie was partial to cheese toast.) After she dropped them off at school, Nat spent her days cleaning, grocery shopping, or meeting with her parole officer or psychiatrist. She would collect her charges after school and shuttle them to their various activities. When she got home, she’d start dinner so that her mom and Derek could return from work to a cooked meal. After the first tense weeks, even Derek seemed to appreciate Nat’s contribution to the running of their household.

Natalie had not sketched or painted since she’d returned to Blaine. Her dreams of an art career now seemed foolish, pie in the sky. After what she’d endured, she wanted simpler things from her life . . . peace, serenity, security. One day, she hoped to get a job, something low-stress, even monotonous. With a criminal record, the most she could hope for would be some sort of manual labor, factory work, or cleaning perhaps. She might pick up a brush again at some point, but her creativity had been squelched by the ugliness, hatred, and violence she’d experienced.

Other than her court-appointed visits, Nat’s days were largely solitary. Her dad had made two visits to see her in the nine months since her release. Their relationship was solid now, resentment of his past abandonment nullified by gratitude for his recent support. But the friends she’d so readily ditched after high school weren’t about to welcome her with open arms upon her disgraced return. Abbey had come to visit her a couple of times, but their reunions had been awkward. Her old pal couldn’t relate to the things Nat had done, the person she’d become. Even Cole Doberinsky, once so obsessed, would not come near her now.