Unfinished: A Small Town, Friends to Lovers, Romantic Suspense (Amber Ridge Book 6), page 1
UNFINISHED
Copyright © 2026 Nyssa Kathryn Sitarenos
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used, stored, or 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 use of brief quotations in book reviews.
This book is for your personal enjoyment only.
This book may not be resold or given to other people.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
An NW Partners Book
Cover by Deranged Doctor Design
Developmentally and Copy Edited by Kelli Collins
Line Edited by Jessica Snyder
Proofread by Amanda Cuff and Jen Katemi
Cover Photography by Briquelle Kayanne Photography
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Also by Nyssa Kathryn
About the Author
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to Kelli, Jess, Amanda and Jen for helping me get this story ready for the world to see. I am so lucky to have each of you on my team.
Thank you to my PA Alana and my ARC team for reading and reviewing and giving me the confidence to let the world read my story.
And thank you to my amazing husband and girls. Thank you for your endless love, patience and belief in me.
PROLOGUE
Thirteen Years Ago – Eighteen years old
Bonnie Hayes’s heart thrashed against her ribs. Hard, violent hits that made her entire body tremble.
Dead. Her parents were dead. She’d just attended their funeral. It didn’t feel real.
She swiped a tear from her cheek, wanting to go back in time. God, she’d do anything to go back two weeks when she’d had living parents. Back when life had made sense and the hurt in her chest hadn’t felt like it would swallow her whole.
But she couldn’t. Her parents were gone. And she’d never see them again.
She parked at the lookout and the second she was out of the car, she threw up, her entire body convulsing.
Her fault. Her entire world was collapsing and it was all her fault. She shouldn’t have gone out that night. Her parents had told her to stay home. After everything with Dean and his family, they’d wanted her with them so they could make sure she was okay.
But she hadn’t listened. And now she’d never be okay again.
Stupid. Selfish. The words repeated in her head. Had been repeating for weeks.
She had gone out that night. Not to anywhere in particular, just to try to escape the hate this town was shooting at her from every direction.
And they’d come for her. Her parents had gotten into their car to bring her home…only they hadn’t made it home.
She stumbled into the forest, tears filling her eyes, blurring the ground beneath her feet. The tears on Indie’s cheeks flashed in her head. Her sister had cried during the entire funeral. Loud, anguished tears that would haunt Bonnie for years to come. While Noah had just stood there, so still she hadn’t seen him take a single breath. Like the shock and grief stole his ability to function.
Bonnie, on the other hand…she hadn’t been able to shed a single tear. There’d been too much self-hate. She hadn’t deserved to cry. Not at the funeral, not when so many people were hurting because she’d made the wrong decision.
But now? In the dead of the night when there was no one to see her break…she felt it all. The pain. The guilt. The claws that were shredding her insides.
She’d never hear her father’s voice again. She’d never feel her mother’s healing hugs.
Pain squeezed at her ribs, so tight it felt like her bones were breaking. She doubled over, wrapping her arms around her middle like that could somehow dull the ache and hold her together.
A few months ago, she’d been numb. Chasing the ability to feel something, anything.
Now? Now her chest, her entire body, had been cracked wide open, and she’d do anything to go back to before.
She started to heave, the very act of breathing feeling too hard. The shake in her limbs was so violent it made remaining on her feet a challenge.
Breathe. She needed to breathe. But she couldn’t. Dean was dead. The town blamed her. Called her a murderer. Graffitied her car. Now her parents, the only two people in the world who had loved her unconditionally, were gone too.
She scrunched her eyes, like that could somehow make it all stop.
But that was a stupid thought. It would never stop. This would always be her fault. Her reality.
Her phone rang from her pocket. It had been going off since she’d left the funeral.
She pulled it out, having to blink three times to make out the words on the screen.
Noah.
She couldn’t answer it. How was she supposed to talk to him? How was she supposed to talk to anyone? All she did was hurt those around her.
There were texts too. A couple from Maisie. Her best friend had been trying to reach her for weeks, but after what happened that night with Dean, she had zero desire to go to her. And then there was a text from Carlos, Dean’s father. A man who hated her so fiercely that he seemed to take joy in her pain.
She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t blocked his number yet. Maybe because some part of her had been waiting for him to reassure her that Dean’s death wasn’t her fault. She wanted him to tell her that she was only eighteen, and it had not been her responsibility to get their son home safely from that party.
She skimmed the text, certain familiar words glaring at her.
Murderer. Gone. Your fault.
The words hit her in the stomach like bullets.
Air started to thicken, no longer making it to her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. This town, this moment, the losses, were suffocating her.
Out. She needed out. Out of Amber Ridge. She needed to find somewhere she wasn’t drowning.
CHAPTER 1
Present Day
Bonnie Hayes wrapped her jacket tightly around herself, the cool morning breeze chilling her as she walked. How had she forgotten how cold it got in Montana? Or maybe she’d just gotten used to the San Francisco sun.
Thirteen years. She’d been away from Amber Ridge for thirteen whole years. Away from her brother. Her sister. Her cousins and aunt and friends she’d gone to high school with.
Friends? No. People she’d thought were friends. But then Dean had died and everything had changed.
She checked the road before crossing.
It was strange how a town could simultaneously feel different and also exactly the same. The buildings were the same. The parks and the houses. But the locals were older. The businesses more modern. Some painted. Others with new owners.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and sped up.
The town wasn’t the only thing that had changed…she was different, too. Wiser. Stronger. And she was going to make this work.
Two women on the other side of the road stopped and looked at her. She didn’t return their gazes. She didn’t need a repeat of what had happened last week, when Dean’s high school buddies had harassed her outside of The Tea House. They weren’t the first and they wouldn’t be the last. A lot of people didn’t want her here. Apparently, thirteen years did nothing to change the narrative that Dean’s death was her fault.
When the two-story women’s shelter came into view, relief relaxed the muscles in her shoulders. The shelter was a converted older house that had been painted a pale green. There was a big privacy fence that surrounded the building and required a code to gain access. The front and back doors were always locked.
There wasn’t a parking lot, but that was fine for her because she’d sold her car in San Francisco and hadn’t replaced it yet. She’d had a rental last week when she was running around town buying things for the apartment, but now she was back to walking, at least until she bought a new one.
The shelter didn’t have any signage, which wasn’t unusual. These women were often fleeing terrible circumstances, usually from abusive ex-partners or friends or family members. They didn’t need a big sign to tell everyone where they were.
She tapped the code into the gate and used her key for the front door. A couple of women were eating breakfast at the table while Chett, a five-year-old boy, sat in front of the TV. His eyes lit up at the sight of her. He jumped to his feet and raced over, then threw his little arms around her legs.
“Bonnie! Mommy’s letting me have morning TV as a treat.”
Bonnie widened her eyes, feigning excitement. “Wow. What a special day. What are you watching?”
“Bluey.”
“Oh my gosh. You be careful though. Too long watching that and you’ll start speaking with an Australian accent.”
The five-year-old’s nose wrinkled. “What’s an accent?”
She chuckled. “Sorry, bud. Sometimes I forget you’re only ten.”
He gasped. “I’m not ten.”
“Twelve? Fifteen?”
“I’m five!”
She laughed again, messing up his hair. “Have fun watching Bluey.”
He raced back to the TV, and she waved to the women at the table.
One of them smiled, but the other didn’t look up. Not a surprise. This was only Bonnie’s second week, and trust didn’t come easily or quickly to women who’d been hurt.
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 maybe that was because the counselors at the shelter in San Francisco had been so warm and friendly that anyone would 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 where everyone congregated 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?”
“He shouldn’t. And he’s in jail. But old fear is hard to shake…especially when I have Chett to protect.”
Bonnie nodded. She’d come across lots of women like Sarah. Mothers fleeing domestic violence. Women who were doing everything they could to protect themselves and their children.
“You’re safe here,” Bonnie pushed gently. “No one gets in without the code.”
Sarah nodded quickly.
“I’m here every day if you need someone to talk to. Right now, in fact, I’m going to pick up some pies from The Tea House. Would you like to come? Chett could join us too.”
Sarah shook her head. “But thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Offer’s open to talk anytime.”
“Thank you.”
Bonnie stepped onto the street, her heart hurting for the women in the shelter. God, she hated that so many of them were in such awful situations.
Her phone suddenly rang and she pulled it from her pocket to see Noah’s name on the screen. A genuine smile curved her lips. “Hey.”
“I can’t believe you’ve done this.”
She frowned as she crossed the street. “Done what?”
“You tease me with the fact that my little sister is in town but then don’t give me your address or organize a time to meet up.”
She wrinkled her nose. It was true. “I’m sorry. I only just moved into my apartment, and my new job’s been busy.”
It wasn’t a lie. Shelley had high expectations and kept throwing extra tasks her way that weren’t even in her job description.
“What about tomorrow?”
Her heart stuttered. “Um, tomorrow I might be working late. But I have Wednesday morning off, if you want to meet for a coffee at The Tea House?”
Meeting in a public place felt safer. Less chance of blubbering like a baby.
“Wednesday morning works for me,” he said.
“You don’t have to work?”
“I can get it off.”
“Noah—”
“I can get it off, Bonnie. This is important. I need to see you.”
She swallowed. She was nervous, but she also really wanted to see him too. “Okay. Wednesday.”
“How’s ten?”
“Ten’s great. I’ll see you then?”
“I’ll see you then. And Bonnie…I hope you’re ready for the biggest damn hug you’ve ever had.”
Emotion clogged her throat. “I am.”
When she hung up, there were tears in her eyes. She was finally going to see her big brother. A big brother she’d deserted thirteen years ago, who didn’t seem to hate her for it. Something she was unbelievably grateful for.
She was just pushing her cell into her pocket when two people rounded a corner down the street.
She froze. A whole-body, couldn’t-walk-another-step kind of freeze. Because she recognized both of them—Dean’s mother, Jane, and Bonnie’s ex-best friend, Maisie.
Yes, a few minutes ago, she’d told herself she could handle anything. It was a lie. At least, right now it was. She couldn’t handle them. She couldn’t even handle them seeing her.
Quickly, she pushed inside the business on her left. The second the door closed, she leaned her back against the wood and closed her eyes, trying to both breathe and still her racing heart.
