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“Perfect. Follow me.” She leads me out of the lobby but not before telling the girl at the desk to be sure to take a lunch break within the hour.
We move to the back of the building where the cafeteria and kitchen are located. Erika pushes one side of the double-set doors inward to reveal the industrial kitchen filled with stainless steel counters and cabinets.
I step in after Erika but draw short when my eyes land on the beautiful blonde who’s been torturing my every waking thought for the past two weeks.
Her name leaves my lips on a shocked exhale, “Carlee?”
9
COREY
I catchthe door before it slams into my face. I stopped walking in the middle of the entrance, stunned, struggling to make sense of what’s in front of me. Carlee wears a purple Soup Soul shirt, and her hair is twisted up under a black hair net. But she could be in a potato sack with dirt smudges on her cheeks and she’d still be beautiful. She’s laughing at something Jose, one of the oldest volunteers, says. She didn’t hear me say her name.
The two of them stand at the front of the food line that faces an empty cafeteria. At the top of the hour, the doors will open and people will line up for a hot meal. For some, it will be the only hot meal they have all day. I know it was for me.
There’s a common misconception about soup kitchens. A lot of people think they’re only for homeless men, women, and children. But the truth is there are many people just on the cusp of the poverty line who might have a roof over their heads, but their access to healthy and consistent meals is limited. That’s particularly true for children when school is not in session.
Places like Soup Soul are vital for those members of the community. The work they do is irreplaceable, and it couldn’thappen without the help of volunteers. Which, according to Carlee’s shirt, she is.
How long has she been volunteering here?
Based on the way she and Jose are chatting it up like old pals, I doubt this is her first time.
But Rose Hill is more than an hour’s drive away. I know she lives in the city now, but what motivated her to volunteer here?
My stomach drops when I consider she might know about my connection to the place. I don’t want her to know how many times I came here for clothes that fit or to take a hot shower. She wouldn’t judge me, but the thought of her pitying me is worse.
Carlee’s always had a bleeding heart. She cried when the snowman from that princess movie melted. She feels things deeply. If she knew what I used to do in secret—how I used to have my basic needs met by strangers—she’d want to cry for me. And I refuse to make Carlee cry. Not again.
Erika hasn’t noticed I’m stuck in the kitchen’s entrance. Another volunteer has pulled her into conversation. Something about a winter coat drive and their low numbers. I only listen for a moment before my attention returns to the young woman I grew up with.
She and Jose move down the food line, uncovering the chafing dishes and adding serving utensils to the containers. Jose guffaws at something Carlee says and then reaches over to grab a thin, brown paper towel to dab his eyes. He catches sight of me.
Immediately, the Hispanic man’s wrinkled face fills with pleasant surprise. “Well, I’ll be. Corey Johnson.”
I force my eyes to stay on the man as he hobbles in my direction, fighting the urge to see Carlee’s reaction to me being here.
Jose was old when I was a teenager. Now, a decade later, he looks like one strong breeze will knock him over. Not that I’dever tell him that. Jose Velasquez is a proud man who served in the military for thirty-plus years. He won’t let anyone tell him he can’t do something he’s set his mind to. Even as a surly teen, I’d admired that about him.
I force my feet to move, saving Jose from needing to cross the entire kitchen to reach me. “Hey, Jose. It’s good to see you.” I shake his hand with a firm grip—the way he demanded when I was a kid.
“I’ll say.” He grins, revealing two silver-capped teeth. “What in the world is a big-shot baseball star doing at Soup Soul?”
“Visiting.” I release his hand. “And helping out if there’s room for me.”
“There’s always room for you.” He claps me on the back. “Come to the serving line. We can use an extra set of hands.”
I let him guide me to the line, finally allowing myself to look at Carlee to gauge her reaction to seeing me. Her wide, shocked eyes tell me I was wrong. She didn’t know of my connection to Soup Soul.
My relief is immense.
“Carlee,” Jose addresses the beauty. “This is Corey Johnson. Though, as a baseball fan, I doubt I have to tell you that.”
Her mouth opens and closes several times, and her eyes dart between mine, wordlessly searching for an explanation for my presence here.
Jose misunderstands her reaction. With a chuckle, he says, “I know he’s good-looking, sweetheart, but there’s no need to stare. He’s a mere mortal just like the rest of us.”
She snaps her mouth closed. “I know he is… A mortal I mean.” She flushes. “I’m just surprised. What are you doing here?” she directs the question to me.
