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And everything I thought I knew about him, which was slowly being morphed into something else.
“Ms. Charlotte?”
I turned around instantly and saw a young girl standing on her porch, staring at me. Her hands were on the straps of her backpack.
Damn. And I really thought I could get away from this scot-free.
“Hi, Sydney. How are you doing?” I asked.
“Good.” Her brows were furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing at the gangster’s house?”
“Gangster?”
“Yeah.” She gestured her head. “That’s what my dad calls our neighbor.”
“He’s not a gangster, Sydney.” I stepped closer to avoid talking loudly. I didn’t want Zane to wake up and hear us talking about him so rudely. “Why does your dad think he’s a gangster?”
“But he has all those tattoos, and he looks scary.”
“Yes, but that’s just his appearance. He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”
She shook her head.
“Has he ever done or said anything bad to you? Or anyone?”
Sydney thought about it, then shook her head again.
“Then you can’t know he’s a gangster. It’s not fair to judge anyone based solely on how they look. You wouldn’t like it if someone did that to you, would you?”
She ducked her head, chastened. “No. I’m sorry.”
I nodded, although the irony that I was now defending Zane from the very stereotypes I once believed about him wasn’t lost on me. “It’s okay. Everyone makes mistakes, and it’s not me that you have to apologize to anyway.” I wondered if I should leave it at that, then remembered what he’d told me last night. I wondered if he felt like he would forever be stained and condemned for his past, but I wanted to change it. “Mr. Zane is a businessman. He’s actually my new boss at the gas station, and he helped save everyone’s job.”
“He’s your boss?” Sydney’s eyes widened.
“Yup.” I nodded. “And that was what I was doing here this early. Work.”
I blushed at the lie, although Sydney didn’t seem to pick up on it. She was probably too young to even think about stuff like that. Thank God. I couldn’t imagine the mess if it was her father who caught me.
Before I could say anything more, Sydney picked up on something else.
“You got a new job?” She cocked her head. “Are you not coaching the basketball team anymore?”
“No, I am,” I assured her. “I’m just doing a bunch of things at once.” I probably should have ended the conversation there, but I couldn’t resist. “Speaking of the basketball team, I heard you’re not coming back to join us.”
Her expression instantly fell as she shook her head. “I want to, but I can’t. My dad doesn’t want me to play basketball.”
That was what I was afraid of. My heart ached for her as she donned an expression that was too sad to ignore.
“What if I talked to him?” I asked. “Maybe I could convince him.” I didn’t know how, but I didn’t want to just leave Sydney like this, either.
She thought about it for a few seconds and then shook her head. “No, I don’t think that will work.” She eyed me cautiously. “He doesn’t like you very much.”
Yeah, I already figured that out. I sighed, trying to think of another solution. “Well, if he doesn’t like you playing basketball, then why did he let you join in the first place?”
“He didn’t want to,” Sydney admitted. “My mom made him do it. I think she just wanted me to have something nice during the divorce.”
Oh, that crushed me even more. This poor child was going through so much already, and her bastard of a father took away the little bit of happiness she had.
