Page 22 of When a Soul Cries

“I’ll be here.”

“That doesn’t mean I said yes.”

“It doesn’t sound like a no.”

“It sounds like I get off at nine.”

“I heard you.”

“And if I walk outside and you’re waiting, that might be considered stalking.”

“Only if you tell me not to come.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting another smile.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Then I’ll give you until nine.”

She finished ringing up the groceries and held out my receipt.

When I reached for it, my fingers brushed hers.

The contact was brief, but she pulled her hand back like she had felt the same spark that traveled through mine.

Her eyes jumped to my face.

For one quiet second, neither of us said anything.

Then the customer behind me cleared her throat.

Sol blinked and looked away. “Have a good day, Rome.”

The sound of my name in her voice made it harder to leave than it should have.

“You too, Sol.”

I pushed my cart toward the exit, but before walking through the doors, I glanced back.

She was already watching me.

The second our eyes met, she looked down and pretended to straighten the receipt paper.

I smiled to myself.

Nine o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.

I pulled into the parking lot of Bright Beginnings like the police were behind me.

My tires bumped the curb, and I threw my car in park crooked across the faded white line. I didn’t bother fixing it. If somebody had a problem, they could wait until after I made sure my godbaby was okay—or they could come tell me now and find out exactly how little patience I had left.

I grabbed my phone from the cup holder and looked at Sol’s last message again.

Her fever is 102. They said somebody has to get her now.

That was all I’d needed to see.

I had been halfway across town when she texted me. I didn’t ask what she wanted me to do. I didn’t remind her that I had plans. I didn’t make her beg.