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It’s her goodness. She had it in spades and he wanted it to rub off on him.
It’s her compassion.No doubt she knew all about his womanizing, troublemaking past and she still liked him. She didn’t pass judgment, didn’t think less of him.
She makes you feel worth something.
The small, nondescript two-story brick building situated between a florist and a shoe repair shop came into view. His pulse picked up, kicking his heart into more disorderly conduct. The damn thing had gotten more of a workout these past few days than it had in his entire life.
Screw it.He was really doing this.
“You look squeamish,” Sophie whispered. “Maybe now’s not the best time for this ‘something’.”
He stopped at the entrance and squeezed her hand. “Now’s okay.” He pressed in the security code, opened the door to Safe Haven Domestic Violence Women’s Shelter, and led her inside before he could change his mind.
The homelike environment had been upgraded since his visit last year, but the vanilla scent, said to soothe discomfort, was the same. He smiled.
“Zane Hollander, as I live and breathe.” Mo came into view, her hand over her heart and deep wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. “I was hoping you’d stop by. It’s that time of year again.”
“Hi, Mo.” He stepped into her outstretched arms and hugged her back.
“It’s good to see you, son.” She let go and, as was her habit, tugged on his ear.
“You, too. The place looks great.”
“Thanks to you. You got our card, didn’t you?”
“I did.” He took a quick look at Sophie. “Mo, this is my friend Sophie Birch. Sophie, this is Mo. She runs the shelter here.”
Sophie put out her hand. “It’s nice to—”
The rest of her sentence was muffled when Mo drew her in for a tight hug instead of a handshake. “It’s wonderful to meet a friend of Zane’s,” she said, releasing Sophie and eyeing them back and forth.
“Thank you.” Sophie cleared her throat and glanced at him. “It’s an honor to be here.”
“The common area is empty at the moment. Come on back for a few minutes, won’t you?”
“Absolutely,” Zane said. He and Sophie followed Mo, Sophie taking in the surroundings with what he could only describe as a look of respect.
Nothing, he imagined, was too much for her to handle. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
They sat on new couches. In the little space between their bodies, he laced his fingers with Sophie’s and pressed their hands into the upholstery.
Yeah, he was nervous.
Mo steepled her hands together and cast affectionate eyes on him. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s good.”
“Julia?”
He filled Mo in and then said, “How are things here?”
“All five of our rooms are currently occupied.” Her voice, a mixture of warmth and concern, hit Zane in that spot he tried not to think about very often.
“Can you tell me about this place?” Sophie said. “I’ve never visited one before.”
“I’d be happy to. We’re an emergency shelter for women getting away from domestic violence and/or abuse. We take in those with a history of alcohol or drug use and those without. We want battered women, no matter where they come from and what abuse they’re suffering, to have a safe place to be.”
“Do the shelter residents get any sort of counseling?”
