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“He’s the reason we’re here?”
I hummed under my breath in confirmation. “You see him?”
She tipped her head to the side, not enough to stand out, which confirmed my belief that she could be sneaky when she wanted to be.
“No.”
“Keep an eye out and let me know if you do, okay?”
“Will do,” she murmured, and I felt the resolve in her, like now she had a purpose, she’d give it her all.
I shook my head at the thought, then, as we danced, decided to talk to her, rather than just have her keep an eye out like I was for the schmuck who was our principal reason for being here.
It was good to have her in my arms, and I could have just held her and danced, but I liked her—it came as a surprise to me too. She had an amusing sense of humor, wasn’t weighed down with apathy, laughed freely at me even when I was being serious, and had a take on the world that was quite refreshing. Of course, that was her youth coming into play.
It was only at times like these when I felt every single fucking one of the sixteen years between us.
“You should get a hobby or something,” I told her softly. “Keep your mind occupied. You’re too smart to just be okay with shopping for clothes and waiting for me to get home.” I winced. “You can’t be happy doing that volunteering shit, either.”
I wasn’t sure why I’d anticipated an argument, but I didn’t get one. Instead, I had my mind blown as she revealed, “Iamhappy doing that. I’ve been homeless, Brennan. I know what that feels like. I have time on my hands so why wouldn’t I help out other people in that situation?”
“You’ve been homeless?” The knowledge was like a bullet to my brain.
“Less than a week all in all, but that was enough.” She shivered as she tucked herself tighter into my hold. “It was horrible.”
My arms tightened around her as if that would be enough to keep her safe but it wasn’t. It never would be. She’d had to go through that. All on her fucking own.
Vasov deserved worse than a pyramid to the skull.
“When?”
“My first few nights in New Jersey, I didn’t really know what to do. I ran away after a bad argument with Father.” She sighed. “I was so dumb. I didn’t plan anything, didn’t save up my allowance, just took a chance to escape.
“It worked, but I was screwed when I got away. I managed to find work in a restaurant shortly after though, so I had some money in my pocket for accommodation. I had to share a studio with four others at the time, but it was better than the streets.
“Then, it was just me and another girl. Do you remember I told you about the one who cut out with the rent? The landlord tossed me out, and I wasn’t... well, I thought I could fix things up for myself. I couldn’t. That was when I went to the Sinners.”
Rage whirled inside me but I only let it out into our hug, holding her close, protecting her from her memories.
“Anyway, that’s in the past.”
“Where did you even find out about the damn soup kitchen? Bagpipes said it’s nowhere near your old place or ours.”
She shrugged. “That day at the clerk’s office. They had a community bulletin board, and there was a flyer asking for volunteers.”
God, I remembered now. Forrest bitching at me in one ear while Camille folded up a pink flyer, tucking it into her pocket after.
“Anyway, with the horses and then the soup kitchen, that’ll keep me busy, but that’s why I wanted to get my room ready—”
“Ready for what?”
“My projects.”
I pulled back to look at her. “What kind of projects?”
She shot me a sheepish look. “I like crafting.”
“Crafting,” I repeated with a frown. But when she ducked her head, hiding from me, I tutted, and lifted a hand to cup her chin and encourage her to look into my eyes once more. “I ain’t being an asshole, babe. I don’t know what crafting consists of. Unless, are you gonna start brewing beer down there?”
