“Not here.” I pushed off from the counter, my body reminding me how desperately it needed sleep. “Anyway, I’m turning in. Been a long day.”
I started toward the hallway but paused when Cash spoke again.
“Why’d you offer me a place?” His voice was quieter now, less hostile. “You don’t know me. For all you know, I could rob you blind in the night.”
I turned back to look at him. In the harsh kitchen light, with his guard momentarily lowered, he looked younger. Wounded.
“Because you needed help,” I said simply. “And because I know what it’s like to have nowhere to go.”
Something flickered across his face. It was surprise, maybe, or recognition. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that hard mask again.
“Right. Saint Mike to the rescue.” The sarcasm was back, thick and defensive.
I smiled tiredly. “Hardly a saint. Just a guy trying to do the right thing. Goodnight, Cash.” I paused for a moment, glancing back at him with a grin. “Also, if you want to steal the good stuff, you’ll have to look somewhere else. The most expensive thing in this house is the sink.”
I didn’t wait for his response, just headed down the hall to my bedroom. As I closed the door behind me, I heard the clink of the whiskey bottle against the glass again. I said another quick prayer. This one was for Cash Callahan, who clearly carried more weight on his shoulders than anyone should have to bear alone.
I changed quickly and fell into bed, my muscles aching from the day’s work. Tomorrow would bring more challenges, more people needing help, more decisions to make. And somewhere in all of that, I’d have to figure out how to navigate living with a man who seemed determined to hate everything and everyone, especially me for some reason.
But that was tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, I just needed sleep.
The last thing I heard before drifting off was the sound of footsteps in the hallway, hesitating outside my door for just a moment before continuing on to the spare room. Thefloorboards creaked as Cash moved around, and then silence fell over the parsonage.
I woketo sunlight streaming through my window and the smell of coffee brewing. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. I lived alone. Coffee didn’t make itself.
Cash. Right.
I rolled over and checked my phone. It was half past six in the morning. I’d set my alarm for seven, but the enticing aroma was enough to pull me from bed early. I threw on a clean shirt and jeans before heading to the kitchen, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
I found Cash leaning against the counter, a steaming mug in his hands. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, his dark hair mussed from sleep. He looked up when I entered, his expression guarded.
“Morning,” I said, my voice still rough with sleep. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” he muttered, taking a sip from his mug. “Made coffee. Hope that’s okay.”
“More than okay,” I replied, reaching for a mug from the cabinet. “It’s a pleasant surprise.”
As I poured myself a cup, I noticed Cash had cleaned the kitchen. The whiskey bottle was back where he’d found it, the empty glass washed and put away. Even the counter had been wiped down.
“You didn’t have to clean,” I said, adding a splash of milk to my coffee.
Cash shrugged. “Force of habit. Worked in enough shitty restaurants to know you clean as you go.”
I nodded, taking a grateful sip. The coffee was strong, much stronger than I usually made it, but right now that was exactly what I needed.
“This is good,” I said, gesturing with the mug. “Thank you.”
“It’s just coffee,” Cash replied, but there was less edge to his voice than there had been last night.
We stood in companionable silence for a few minutes, both of us sipping our coffee and watching the early morning light stretch across the backyard through the kitchen window. A pair of cardinals hopped along the fence, bright red against the weathered wood.
“So,” I finally said, “what’s your plan for today?”
Cash’s jaw tightened slightly. “Need to call some real estate agents. See who’ll take on a property that’s mostly rubble now.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I paused, taking another sip. “Do… Do you need some clothes?” I offered. “We have plenty of donations at the?—”
“No, I don’t need your damn charity,” he growled, cutting me off. “There’s clothes in my truck. I just didn’t think I’d be here that long.”
