Page 20 of Day Break

“I have no doubt of that,” I agreed. “It’s just…” I glanced over at Byron, who sat between us, looking worried. “Byron is worried. I think he’d prefer someone look after you until you can assure him that you’re okay.”

“Byron?” The man frowned.

I motioned to the dog. “Lord Baron Byron. At least that’s what I call him. He came and got me, basically dragged me here. He wouldn’t stop pulling or barking at me until…” I suddenly dropped off, feeling stupid that I’d rambled on about the dog leading me to him.

The man looked over to the dog and then surprised me by laughing.

“I suppose that names suits him better than Dog,” the old man said with a chuckle. He turned to me, and his sharp eyes ran over my face, my hair, my clothes.

I shrank back a little. Afraid.

Since gaining my freedom, it was the first time someone had looked at me. Really looked. The man’s eyes somehow pierced through my outer shell and bore into what was hidden beneath.

I felt tears sting my eyes once more and cursed myself for being stupid.

I knew my time of being undiscovered had just come to an end. I’d have to move on now. Which meant no more daily apples. No Byron to talk to. Sadness flooded me so quickly, so powerfully, I swayed as I knelt beside him.

“Who are you?” the old man asked.

I stood up quickly, ready to leave, but then the old man tried to stand up and almost fell on his face. Moving quickly, I took his arm and helped him into one of the chairs at the table.

“Your name?” he asked. I could hear the energy drain from him.

“Let me call someone to help you,” I urged.

He waved his hand. “I have no one who would care.” He stilled. “Well, one. But he’s too far away.” A sad look crossed the man’s face. “You.” He pointed at me with a crooked finger. “Name?”

I looked down at Byron, who had laid his head on the old man’s leg. The old man was gently scratching between the dog’s ears, as if this was their normal interaction.

Dogs were excellent judges of character. If Byron thought the old man was trustworthy, then at least I could give him a name.

“Chloe,” I finally answered. “Chloe Dawn.”

The old man nodded once. “George Robinson.” He grew silent for a moment. “What do you think about helping me out? Just for the rest of the day, mind you. I’d pay you,” he added after I took a step back towards the door.

My heart leaped. For just one beath. Then, reality came crashing back.

I shook my head and started moving towards the door quickly. I stopped when Byron rushed over and blocked the doorway, almost tripping me in the process.

I heard the old man chuckle. “See, even Byron wants you to stay. Come now, girl. You’ve said it yourself. Someone should look out for me.” He motioned to his head. I could see a trickle of blood oozing from the cut.

“You should call an ambulance,” I said, not moving.

The man waved that suggestion off. “I’m fine. I just need someone to lend me a hand. At least for today.” His eyes narrowed at me. “You haven’t got anything better to do today, have you?”

I thought about returning to my spot. Reading my book once again. I’d lost count of how many times I’d scanned the pages. Was it possible to grow bored reading a story you loved and knew by heart?

“You can start by finishing making my lunch.” He motioned towards the kitchen. “While you’re at it, make yourself a sandwich too.”

At the thought of food, my stomach growled. Loudly.

The old man smiled. George. He’d said his name was George.

“Hurry now, girl. I’m hungry, and from the sounds of it, so are you,” he said with a grin.

I lifted my chin. “First, do you have a first aid kit? You’re still bleeding,” I said, making up my mind.

If he was going to give me a sandwich and not call the police, the least I could do was clean him up and make sure he was all right.