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A squeal of laughter trails behind her as she takes off.
Pen arches a dark brow, curiosity teasing her full red lips. “What was that about?”
“I wish I could tell you, sunshine… but I swore an oath.”
She pushes my chest, and I take a page from her unfiltered book, telling her exactly what I’m thinking. “You really are so beautiful.”
“Quit it.” She’s smiling wide, and I am, too.
Goddamn, it feels so good.
“The job I offered you,” I say, nodding toward the group home. Much like the rest of Seaside, it needs major renovations. “Is this place the reason you accepted it?”
She’s quiet for a long moment, and I wonder if she’s afraid to admit the truth.
“Yes.”
Her hold on my heart tightens. “You could have asked me for help, Pen.”
With a simple shrug, she says, “I didn’t want to.”
“But I can give your friends the money they need to gut the place.”
“Logan…”
“I bet the kids sleep all mashed together upstairs, split between a couple of rooms, don’t they?” She folds her arms, neither confirming nor denying. “We could remodel the whole place. Imagine, the big kids in their own individual beds, and bunk beds for the little ones.”
“Logan, stop.”
But I can’t. This bleeding heart Dad despises so much? Well, it’s hemorrhaging.
“Tarra and Brantly are at that age where they should have their own space, and all of them should have food and clothes whenever they need.” She shakes her head when I say, “I can make that happen.”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried that? Ricardo is a proud, stubborn man. If he won’t take a handout from me, he certainly isn’t going to take one from you.”
I meet her stubborn gaze. “That’s selfish, don’t you think?”
“Maybe to some, but I can’t fault him. He’s a provider, a father in every way that counts. He and Dorthea each work two jobs just to keep this place open, and I wish they didn’t have to, but what more can I do?”
She looks back at the house, mulling over what she says next. “I didn’t want to ask you for money because I’d rather earn it, and I won’t ask my dad for the same reason. Not to mention, how do you think he’s going to react to the fact that I’ve been lying to him for years? The man booked this whole father-daughter business conference thing for us—and I’ll be lying my way out of that, too–when I just want to tell him the truth.”
“That you’d rather spend your days making homeless kids happy for free than work for a multimillion-dollar corporation?”
“Bingo.”
“You don’t think he would understand?” I ask.
“No. He wants me to be just like him—chasing a dollar, investing, building a business from the ground up—but that’s not who I am. I don’t know how to be the successful businesswoman my parents have always wanted while still protecting and providing for my friends here.”
I’m afraid to move for fear that she’ll shut down, so I listen quietly as she vents.
“You said you wanted the ugly parts of me. Well, how about this? I throw myself into random projects, hop between jobs, and keep busy helping everyone else because if I’m not distracted, then I have to face the fact that I’m alone. That I’ve done this to myself. That I’m thirty years old, without a safety net, a stable career, or even a stable relationship. All things I pretend I’m okay with because it terrifies me not to be.”
Reaching for this kind, big-hearted woman, I draw her into my body, offering a space of refuge for her anxieties. She wraps her arms around my waist, and it wouldn’t matter if the universe imploded right at this very moment. This right here… This is where we’re meant to be. Together.
“What’s the worst that could happen if you just accepted yourself as you are, without all the outside pressure? Stopped trying to chameleon your way through life?”
She rubs her face into my shirt, pouting. “Catastrophe, probably.”
