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I look in his eyes and I see the same psychic scars that I bear. I know the bone-deep chill of shoveling driveways in the dead of winter. I know the searing pain of hot summer sun, the sting of sweat in your eyes as you slave away to make too little money to change a goddamn thing.
I know his pain.
It made me.
There’s a soft knock at the door and then Piper pokes her head inside. Grant spins away from her and faces the wall.
“I’m done for today,” Piper says. “I’ll see you later, Grant.”
“I’d rather not,” he mutters.
As we’re walking through the house, Piper drops her business card on the table.
“In case they need anything,” she explains to me, even though I didn’t ask.
I hang back for a second. Just long enough to drop all the cash in my wallet on the table next to her card.
In case they need anything.
55
TIMOFEY
I toss the motorcycle helmet in Piper’s direction. It hits the center of her chest with a thud, and she winces.
“Ow.”
I straddle the bike. “Get on. We’re leaving.”
She spends what feels like ages struggling with the straps and buckles of the helmet. Finally, I snatch it out of her hands and hold it up for her to step into.
“Thanks,” she mutters.
The sun paints golden rays in her wide green eyes. She just walked into that house—into those kids’ hell—and she still looks radiant. Perfectly fine. Almost as if nothing happened.
“It’s not for your sake,” I growl.
“Right. Sure. God forbid you be polite.”
“I don’t have time for you to trip and tumble your way through every task. I have other shit to do today.”
“Then go do it!” She steps out of my reach and fumbles with the buckle under her chin. “I thought you wanted to observe what I do every day. Wasn’t that the point of this? You’re acting like I made you come here.”
“You made me go inside. You couldn’t handle that kid without it blowing up.”
“I could have handled Grant,” she snaps. “I’ve met him plenty of times before.”
“Even worse,” I retort. “If he’s met you before, he has even more reason to want to knock you flat on your ass.”
Blood rises across her chest and neck. Anger colors her pale skin. “You don’t make any sense, Timofey. If you hate me so much, why am I pretending to be your girlfriend? Why not go find someone you can stand?”
“This isn’t about whether I hate you or not. It’s about the fact that the boy in there absolutely does.”
“He doesn’t hate me. He’s just… He’s going through a hard time,” she says. “I’m here to help him. You saw what it was like in there. His mother isn’t doing anything to take care of him and his siblings.”
“She’s doing her best.”
Piper takes a step back and blinks at me. “You’re kidding.”
