He was as tempting as he’d been the day he strode in here a year ago, having just plunked down a big donation to the center, and introduced himself to me. The donor who also volunteered. That was a rare combination and a whole lot of heart.
Colin smiled as I tucked the mountains of folders tighter under my arm. So much paperwork to finish before the benefit this weekend. But I would never complain, because one of the city’s leading philanthropists was hosting a huge fundraiser for the center. I’d fill out paperwork all night and day if I had to.
“Need a forklift for those?”
“Do you have one?”
He hooked his thumb in the direction of the parking lot. “Absolutely. Want me to bring it in now?”
“Oh sure. Let me just go open the back door,” I said, deadpan.
“Excellent. I’ll put on my hard hat.” He took a beat. “I’d ask if you need help, but I feel like you’d roll your eyes and say no.”
I rolled my eyes, slowing my pace as I reached him. He’d offered to help me carry my papers a few times, but I’d always declined. Do it yourself—that was my motto. “Don’t you worry about me and my papers. I consider them bicep curls.” I demonstrated with the folders, curling them like weights. “And triceps too.”
“No need for a gym membership, then,” he said, rubbing his palms together. “And on that note, I have exciting news for you.”
“You had the net fixed on the basketball court?” I asked.
“Please. That was done last week.”
“I know,” I said with a smile. “And I am damn grateful.”
“This is bigger.” He drew in a deep breath, as if prepping to say something important. “Did you know there’s a new flavor of potato chips at Trader Joe’s? I know you and Alex are big fans.”
“My kiddo and I do indeed worship at the altar of potato chips. But I’m going to need more details. What is this new flavor?” My fourteen-year-old son and I were dedicated connoisseurs, lovers of the strangest flavors. Lime, avocado, pepper—bring them on.
“Pickle,” he declared.
I arched a skeptical brow. “I don’t believe you.”
“I’ll prove it.”
I pretended to hunt behind him, looking to one side, then the other. “Got a bag of chips there behind your back?”
He pointed to the doors, and presumably beyond to the parking lot. “No, but I have access to a car, and the GPS that’ll take us to the store. I can show you in an hour, o ye of little faith,” he said, a playful tone in his voice.
I was off in an hour. I looked at my watch, considering his offer of a chip mission. That fit with our world order—friendship. “I could go, but I need to stop by the library after work. A book I reserved is in, and I’ve been dying to read it,” I said.
“Let me guess. Dragons, shape-shifters, swords, and battles?”
I pretended to be offended. “Way to pigeonhole me.”
“Nah, you just have good taste. By the way, did you try that one I mentioned?” he asked.
“Yes, I started it, and it kept me up late on Sunday night. Too late. So thanks a lot for making me yawn through a board meeting on Monday.”
He shrugged, a cocky glint in his eyes. “I’d say I’m sorry, but one should never apologize for recommending good books.”
I laughed and tapped his shoulder with my free hand. Because, well, because it was there. “Words to live by.” I eyed the stack of papers in my arm. “I need to chat with my donations manager. See you in an hour.”
“Perfect,” he said. “And I’ll give you a ride home.”
“How did you know I didn’t bring my car today?” My mom had needed to borrow mine, so I snagged a ride from a friend. I’d planned to take the bus back, but I’d happily ride with Colin.
Colin shrugged. “Lucky guess. Or maybe I was just hopeful.” He gestured to the basketball courts. “Now, stop trying to distract me from my shift. I have basketball games to coach.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “Who was distracting who? Mr. Potato Chip Tempter.”
He winked. “Potato chips. Swords. Battles. Books. See you in an hour.”
He took off, and a few times during the meeting, I snuck glances at the basketball courts. Watched as he tugged off his shirt, tossed it on the bench, and shot hoops with the teenage boys.
Those boys needed a place like this center.
And they needed a man like Colin to look up to. Someone who cared, someone who’d changed his life for the better, like the tattoos on his body alluded to. Ink I admired for so many reasons.
But me?
No. I didn’t need a man. Didn’t want a man. Men had brought nothing but trouble into my life. Men were off-limits.
I’d put Colin in the friend camp for a good reason. I’d needed a friend. He’d become one. A terrific friend.
Fine, sometimes I thought about what it would be like to be more than friends with the man.
But those were only thoughts. I didn’t act on them.
When the meeting ended early, I returned to my office to find one of the boys waiting for me.
Marcus, with his dark eyes, curious heart, and soft-spoken voice. “Hey, Marcus. What’s going on?” I asked.
He cleared his throat. “Do you have a second?”
“Of course. I’m always up for talking to you,” I said with a smile as I walked into my office with the teenager close behind.
Marcus had started coming around the center a few months ago when he’d graduated from high school and moved out of his family’s house. He’d been a quiet one at first, but lately he’d been opening up more. He’d been raised by his father and stepmother—his biological mother was out of the picture.
Once inside, he scratched his jaw, looking around. “So, listen, it’s about my mom. My biological mom.”
Shutting the door, I sat, motioning for him to join me. This didn’t seem like the start of an ordinary conversation. “Sure. What’s happening there?”
“I don’t know if I’ve told you this before, but she has other children,” he said, taking a deep breath.
Definitely not a regular chat. “I didn’t know that,” I said evenly. “Do you know them?” I waited for him, trying to read his expression.
“No, but I want to.”
“And why’s that?”
I wasn’t sure he was going to answer.
That was okay. One thing I’d learned with this job was that patience was more than a virtue.
It was a necessity.
2
Marcus
I heaved a sigh, dragging a hand through my hair.
How could I begin to explain why I wanted to talk to my siblings?
Because I’d felt like a part of me was missing for some time? Because I’d felt like something inside me was absent? Not empty, just borrowed.
On loan from someone else.
Someone, or many someones, and I wanted to know who they were once and for all.
But how did I just say all that out loud?
That having a parent in prison sure as hell made me feel like something was off.
That I’d never truly felt like a part of the family with my dad, my stepmom, and their kids.