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Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “The door wasn’t unlocked.” But I allow him his pride, and don’t push back on the rest. “However, you got in, you shouldn’t have been there at all. Are you going to tell me why or are you going to force me to turn you in?”
“You can’t prove I was there,” he pushes.
“We have video surveillance,” I lie.
He crosses his arms over his bird-like chest and gives me a long assessing look, like he’s trying to decide if he can trust me and then sighs in resignation, his shoulders slumping like the weight of the world just landed on them. “I study there. I don’t touch anything, and I don’t make any trouble. I won’t be back. If you tell how much the window costs, my family accountant will send you whatever you need.”I shake my head in grudging respect. He’s a little shit, but he’s braver than that group of boys combined.
“Oh, you’re going to pay me back alright. But it’s not going to be as easy as calling Jeeves. You’re going to keep coming to the bakery. And when I’m done with my work, you’re going to clean up. You’re going to work until you’ve done enough hours to pay the insurance deductible on that window,” I inform him and wait for the outrage.
It doesn’t come.
Instead, his shrewd little eyes glitter with interest. “You mean, like baking?”
“No. I mean like cleaning up, sweeping, wiping stuff down. You can study while I bake and when I’m done, you can clean up.”
“Oh.” He frowns and his eyes narrow and I can practically hear his brain rerouting itself.
“What time do you want me to come by?” he asks, and I smile, impressed with how quickly he made up his mind. I expected he’d do like my brothers whenever they have to help in the kitchens – kick up a fuss and whine.
“I’ll be here to get you at 8pm.”
His smile disappears. “You’re gonna come get me?”
I fold my arms over my chest, assuming a stance of authority. “I don’t know how you got to the bakery yesterday, but you’re too young to be going anywhere that time of night alone.”
He balks. “I rode my bike like I always do. It’s fine.” His somber expression reminds me of all of the things he’s recently lost. I relent.
“Fine, but when we’re done, I’ll throw your bike in the back of my car to bring you back. That’s the deal.” I add when he opens his mouth to argue. “You get to study while I work, and then you help me clean up. When you’ve worked enough hours to earn the $500, you’re free to go.”
“Okay,” he croaks out. He looks sharply at the ground, but not quickly enough to hide the tears that well in his eyes.
My heart squeezes in empathy.
I hate for people to see my tears, too.
I walk over to him. I bend so we’re eye level and grab his chin and turn his face up to mine.
“I’m sorry about your stepfather.”
He blinks up at me in surprise. “Sure, thank you.” His eyes mist and he blinks to clear them and gives me a heartbreakingly brave smile. I run a hand over his hair and it’s not my imagination when he nuzzles against my palm before stepping back.
“I know it feels like the entire world is too small to hold your hurt, and there’s no shame in crying. if you need to talk, I won’t mind listening.”
His tongue darts out and he licks his lips and then bites the lower one. They’re very swollen still. My fists curl in on themselves itching for a chance to punch those boys square in their stupid, smug faces.
“Have you lost someone?” he asks.
“Huh?”
“Last night, you said something that made me think maybe you lost someone, too,” he elaborates. “Why are you looking like that?” he asks when I just gape at him.
“Just that, I thought you’da been too busy scheming to have heard anything I said.”
He rolls his eyes again, but an embarrassed blush colors his cheeks and a shy smile dances on the corners of his cherub’s mouth. I chuckle, utterly charmed by him. He’s guileless and brave, but he needs someone looking out for him. “I did lose someone, a long time ago, yes.”
His gaze sharpens. “Who?”
“My dad.”
