The Reboot

Contents Cover Title Page Copyright Dedication Contents 1. Donna 2. Amanda 3. Abigail 4. Donna 5. Amanda 6. Abigail 7. Donna 8. Amanda 9. Abigail 10. Donna 11. Amanda 12. Abigail 13. Donna 14. Amanda 15. Donna 16. Abigail 17. Amanda 18. Amanda 19. Abigail 20. Abigail 21. Donna 22. Amanda 23. Abigail 24. Abigail 25. Donna 26. Amanda Epilogue: Helen Acknowledgments About the Author Also by B. E. Baker Cover Title Page Copyright Contents Beginning About the Author Also by B. E. Baker 
 
 
 
 
 The Reboot
 
 
 
 B. E. Baker
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Copyright © 2023 by B. E. Baker
 All rights reserved.
 No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
 Created with Vellum
 
 
 
 
 For my mother
 You’re as opposite Amanda’s parents as they come.
 Thanks for always doing things right.
 
 
 
 Contents
 
 
 
 1. Donna
 
 
 2. Amanda
 
 
 3. Abigail
 
 
 4. Donna
 
 
 5. Amanda
 
 
 6. Abigail
 
 
 7. Donna
 
 
 8. Amanda
 
 
 9. Abigail
 
 
 10. Donna
 
 
 11. Amanda
 
 
 12. Abigail
 
 
 13. Donna
 
 
 14. Amanda
 
 
 15. Donna
 
 
 16. Abigail
 
 
 17. Amanda
 
 
 18. Amanda
 
 
 19. Abigail
 
 
 20. Abigail
 
 
 21. Donna
 
 
 22. Amanda
 
 
 23. Abigail
 
 
 24. Abigail
 
 
 25. Donna
 
 
 26. Amanda
 
 
 
 
 Epilogue: Helen
 
 
 Acknowledgments
 
 
 About the Author
 
 
 Also by B. E. Baker
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1
 
 
 Donna
 
 
 
 
 
 Back when I learned to drive, no one had GPS or phone apps, and even MapQuest was new and unproven. People found new places by using a big old map book, or by the simple expedient of following a long list of directions.
 When someone needed you to go somewhere for them, the preparation would sound something like this:
 “Make a left by that big oak tree in the center of town, then hang a right on the street named after baked goods. I think it’s Pleasant Pie or something. Go past that long row of pine trees, and then turn on the road going north. You’ll stay on that for a long time, like ten minutes, maybe, and then you’ll see a big billboard with a baby on it. Make the next right. There’s like, a bend in the road right before the turn off. I think the street is R street. It’s a letter, anyway. Then you want the third or fourth house on the right, just after the stop sign that’s hanging at a forty-five-degree angle. The house you want has a yellow door. You can’t miss it.”
 Those were almost precisely the directions I got from my neighbor when I drove forty miles away to pick up a kitten Mom wanted for her barn, some seventeen years ago.
 Is it any wonder it took me three hours and four stops at local places to place collect calls before I finally found that dumb cat? It wound up being a terrible mouser, too.
 It feels like I grew up making life choices the old school way, but in the past year, I’ve discovered Google maps. Now, watching Abby Brooks—er, Archer—and listening to her advice? It’s like I know what I need to do to find the kitten on the first try.
 Or, like, instead of a kitten, true love and happiness.
 A year ago, my life was a disaster.
 I was lucky to have a job as a receptionist. I lived in constant fear that my son would be stolen from me by his grandparents. My husband was in jail and my worst nightmare was that he might be released. I was living with my abusive, dying father and being shouted at constantly.
 Ironically, I met my Google map because I made a plan to completely shaft her. This poor woman had moved here with her kids because of a will and a bizarre twist of fate, and I wanted to make sure she got nothing because it was slightly better for me. Or, I thought it was. Turned out that wasn’t even true.
 Her guidance has changed everything for me.
 Forever.
 Now I have complete custody of my son. His father didn’t go to prison like he should have (the world isn’t perfect, even if Abby is), but I have a healthy relationship, and a job I really enjoy, and I’m living in a rental house that isn’t quite perfect, but it’s on its way.
 Just like me.
 Next up? A white picket fence, a golden lab, and riding off into the sunset.
 Actually, my new place kind of already has a picket fence, and after years of being bitten, kicked, and bucked off, I’m not a huge fan of horses. But the general direction of my meandering is the same. I’m basically home free at this point, thanks to the advent of much better advice and life inspiration.
 Which is why, when the expected knock on my front door comes an hour early, I don’t panic. After all, my ex is notorious for being a pain in my rear end, and he’s terrified of my boyfriend. I should have known he’d come early in the hopes of avoiding any run-ins with Will.
 Charles is standing on my porch at seven oh three when I open the door, and he already looks antsy and annoyed.
 “You’re early,” I say.
 “You know what they say,” he says. “Early to bed, early to rise, makes this