At my nod, he releases me and I unlock my office door. Inside, I head straight for the kettle at the tiny bar, but Spencer shoos me away, telling me to sit.

  “Are you sure? You don’t know where anything is.”

  “I’m sure I can figure it out,” he says. “After all, I’m British; if there’s one thing I know, it’s how to make tea.”

  He appears satisfied when I let out a choked laugh. He grips my shoulders gently and turns me toward my desk. Tears are still flowing down my face, despite my best efforts to stop them. I suspect Spencer’s offer to make tea is his way of giving me a chance to get myself together. At my desk, I rifle around in a drawer for a packet of tissues. By the time Spencer sets two steaming mugs on my desk, I’ve reined in my emotions, and I have a package of shortbread cookies ready to go with our tea.

  “Do you want to talk about what’s got you so upset?” Spencer asks.

  An inner debate ensues. How much do I tell Spencer without feeling like I’m betraying Jordy? She is a minor, after all, but she’s also my friend, as strange as that may be. That being said, I trust Spencer. He won’t repeat anything I tell him, and I have a feeling he already suspects Jordy relies on the center for more than just a part-time job.

  “It’s Jordy,” I say slowly, picking my words with care. “She has a…complicated home life. She’s missed a couple days of school and work, which doesn’t seem like a big deal, but for a kid like her, it’s a cause for concern.”

  Spencer nods to show he’s listening, although he doesn’t say anything, as if anticipating more.

  “It’s hard, because she’s more than just an employee to me. I walk a fine line between wanting to help her and fix all her problems, and knowing I can’t. It wouldn’t be right for so many reasons. But I see so much of myself in her, and I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

  Spencer freezes with his mug halfway to his mouth. He tilts his head, his eyes holding an unspoken question. When I don’t elaborate immediately, he says, “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable sharing.”

  The quiet assurance, paired with the openness of his expression, make me want to confide in him. So I do. I start with Louisa’s mother's death, since that was the catalyst for my mom leaving, and soon, details are pouring out of me along with more tears.

  “Things fell apart quickly after my mom left. Dad started drinking and it didn’t take long for him to mess up at work and get fired. We were okay for a while, living on his unemployment checks and some savings, but the checks eventually stopped and the savings dwindled. He was too proud to use the food bank, so that was up to me, as was dealing with phone calls from various debt collectors. After a few months, our once beautiful, comfortable home no longer felt safe or homey, and my loving father became a stranger. His moods were unpredictable and the environment felt heavy and toxic.”

  Spencer doesn’t say anything, but his eyes, which are full of sympathy, remain steady on mine.

  “I couldn’t say or do anything right, and my dad resented how much my friends and their parents helped me, even though he had become incapable of providing for me. It was actually a relief when he was out at the bar or passed out at home. Stella and Wesley’s parents asked me to move in with them for the last year of high school. I expected a fight from my dad, but he told me to get out and never come back. So that’s exactly what I did.”

  I reach for my tea with a shaky hand. It’s gone cold, but that doesn’t stop me from downing it and wishing it were something stronger.

  Without a word, Spencer takes both our mugs and goes to make more tea. When he returns, I expect a slew of questions, or perhaps avoidance; it’s not an easy topic, and the few people I’ve confided in over the years have acted uncomfortable and awkward afterward.

  “Your friends and their families were a safe space for you when you needed it most, and now you want to provide the same for Jordy,” Spencer says. “I understand the fine line you spoke of before, but I also think if it’s in your power to help Jordy, you should, at least within reason. Everyone deserves to have someone in their life who wants the best for them and would do anything for them without expectation or conditions. I sense you’d be that for Jordy.”

  Wow. He cut right to the heart of it. Yet again, he’s reminding me why I started falling for him all those weeks ago on the dating app. And why it’s so damn hard to see him as nothing more than a friend now.

  Before I can respond, my stomach lets out an unholy gurgle. I slap my hands over it, but it’s too late; the wide-eyed look of amusement on Spencer’s face tells me he heard it. Embarrassed laughter spills out of me. “I didn’t have a chance to eat.”

  “Why don’t I go pick something up for you?”

  “Oh, I brought a…sandwich.” I try not to wrinkle my nose at the thought of the turkey and cheese sandwich that seemed appealing this morning, yet sounds completely unappetizing right now.

  Spencer’s lips twitch. “You like sushi, right?” he asks, and I nod. “Well, I haven’t eaten yet either, and my favorite sushi place is only a few blocks away. If you’re agreeable, I’ll go pick something up and we can eat together. Unless you have too much work to do, of course.”

  I do have a ton of work-related things to do. I was gone longer than I should have been, and without Jordy here for her shift, there’s a lot that needs to be done. And yet, the thought of spending more time with Spencer, especially when I’m feeling emotionally raw, is too appealing to pass up.

  “If you’re talking about Ta-Ke Sushi, their veggie combo is my favorite,” I say. “I’ll send you a money transfer for my share.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Spencer says in a breezy tone as he rises from his chair. “Two veggie combos coming right up.” He pauses in the doorway, looking uncertain. “Do you think there’s any chance of Jordy showing up today? Should I get extra? Or perhaps we could deliver some to her?”

  The way my heart squeezes makes it difficult to breathe for a few seconds. “She’ll likely be at her sister’s for the rest of the day, and I don’t know where she lives. You’re…I…thank you, Spencer.”

  Seeming to understand what I couldn’t quite put into words, Spencer smiles and nods, then disappears.

  *****

  When I woke up this morning, I never imagined I’d spend part of the afternoon stocking shelves in the food bank with Spencer by my side. This image will be burned in my brain for eternity: Spencer, who removed his suit jacket at lunch, loosened his tie, and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows, is now carefully placing canned goods onto shelves while humming along to “Mamma Mia” by ABBA.

  Be still my heart.

  “Are you sure you have time for this?” I ask for at least the third time.

  “Positive.” He’s facing away from me, and I watch as his shoulders shimmy slightly to the music, the muscles of his back rippling under his dress shirt. Add that to the mental image that will live rent-free in my mind.

  We carry on with our task, speaking occasionally, but mostly working in silence except for the music coming from my phone. When we’re finished, Spencer joins me in my office. I’m about to ask if he’d like to get something else to eat when his phone rings. He excuses himself and strides to the doorway, where he answers the phone and has a quick, hushed conversation. His clipped tone reminds me of the day we met, making me wonder if it’s his brother, even though it’s late in London.

  Spencer hangs up and returns to my desk, where he immediately reaches for his abandoned suit jacket that he draped over a chair earlier.

  “Henry at it again?” I ask, hoping to see his smile return. It does, although it’s wry and doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “Very astute. I’m afraid I need to get going.” He suddenly sounds exhausted. “Unless you’d like me to stay?” he adds quickly.

  I’d like nothing more than for him to stay. The fact he’d offer when he clearly needs to deal with something says volumes about the kind of man he is. “You can go. I’m going to stay for a while and do some paperwork.”

  Uncertainty passes over Spencer’s expression. When I offer him a tired smile, he nods his head once. “Call me if you need me. Or even if you don’t need me and just…want me. Want to talk to me, that is.”

  His words and the way his eyes widen as he says them evoke a more genuine smile from me. “I will. Thanks for everything today, Spencer.”

  The second he’s gone, I drop my head onto my desk and close my eyes. Paperwork would be a good distraction, but being with my friends sounds even better. I sit up and reach for my phone, deciding to try Louisa first. I only get as far as unlocking my phone before it rings in my hand. It’s an unfamiliar number, which I’d normally ignore, but something tells me to answer.

  “Hi, Hollie, it’s me.”

  My whole body sags with relief at the sound of the familiar voice. “Jordy. Are you okay? Where are you?”

  “I’m at my sister’s place.” From those few words alone, I can hear the exhaustion in her voice. “I hate to ask this, but can you come pick me up?”

  I jump out of my chair and grab my purse and coat. “Give me the address and I’ll be right there.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jordy’s sister lives in a dilapidated apartment in a not-so-great part of town. When I pull up to the building, there are two sketchy-looking guys out front engaging in what I’m fairly certain is a drug deal. The front door opens and Jordy races out; I can hear one of the guys say something to her, and her snarky retort. She jumps into the car, hits the button to lock the doors, and tells me to drive away quickly.

  Once the car is moving, Jordy practically melts into her seat. I glance over to see her drop her head back and close her eyes. A million questions fight to escape my lips, but Jordy looks as exhausted as she sounded on the phone. If her wrinkled clothes and the slight, unpleasant odor wafting off her are any indication, she’s been wearing the same outfit for the last few days.

  “Are you okay?” I ask tentatively.

  She doesn’t speak for a long time. I expect her to say she’s fine or give the bare minimum of details. Instead, when she opens her mouth, words spill out so fast, it’s a struggle to keep up. She tells me about her dad losing his job and how unbearable it’s been at home. She explains about her phone being cut off, her sister’s baby getting sick, and how she spent the last several days taking care of her three-year-old nephew while her sister, who’s due to have baby number three in a few weeks, stayed at the hospital with her two-year-old, who was severely dehydrated, but is fine now.

  “I wanted to call you, but I couldn’t remember your cell number or the number of the center, and my sister doesn’t have a computer, so I couldn’t look it up.” Her words come so fast and in such run-on sentences, she’s winded at the end of each one. She sucks in a deep breath and continues. “I finally found some old paperwork from the center in my backpack and got the number from it. When my sister came home for a bit yesterday, I used her phone to call the center.”

  “I got your message,” I tell her.

  “Okay, good, so at least you knew I was still alive.”

  I glance at her, my heart giving a sharp tug at the sight of her tired smile. “I was relieved, but still worried.”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “No, don’t apologize,” I interrupt. “It’s not your fault. There’s only so much you can say in a message, especially since it wasn’t my personal line. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Silence falls again. The questions that are still kicking around in my mind fight once more to be vocalized. “Why didn’t you tell me your dad lost his job?”

  “Because I knew you’d try to fix it.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  Jordy sighs. “No, Hollie, it’s not. It would be so easy to let you help me. Too easy. But I can’t become dependent on you. You won’t always be around.”

  “What do you mean? Of course I will. I’m not going anywhere, Jordy.”

  She falls silent again. When I stop at a red light and look at her, she shakes her head. “I know when you say that, you mean it. You believe it’s true right now, at this moment. But everyone always leaves me. My mom, my siblings. My dad is still there physically, but he’s checked out in every other way. He doesn’t notice or care if I’m around, doesn’t do anything for me. How will I learn to deal on my own if I let you fix my problems for me? If I learn to rely on you and then, for whatever reason, you’re not there anymore?”

  Her words are like a punch to the gut. Jordy is too young to be this jaded. The car behind me beeps its horn, startling me. The light is green, but my foot feels like lead on the brake. I ease it off and start driving again.

  “Helping someone you care about isn't the same thing as fixing their problems,” I say. “It’s okay to accept help. I understand how terrifying it can be to let people in, to trust them and lean on them, but I promise you not everyone leaves. Not everyone will hurt you or disappoint you.”

  I’ve only ever told Jordy bits and pieces about what my life was like at her age. I didn’t want to dump all of that on her, but I told her about some of the parallels in our lives when we first met because I hoped it would help her to trust me and see that working at Belle Vie was more than just a random career choice. I know I should confide in her now, the way I did with Spencer earlier today. Tell her I don’t know what I would have done without my friends and their parents. How I had to swallow my pride and let them help me because it meant the difference between going hungry and not. Having a home and not.

  This isn’t the moment for that, though, so instead I ask, “Have you eaten?”

  She mutters something I don’t catch, making me wonder if she’s commenting on my sudden change of topic. I ask her to repeat herself and she groans before saying, “Not since yesterday.” She clears her throat and speaks louder. “There wasn’t much food in the house and I figured it was more important for my nephew to eat.”

  “We’ll stop and get something, then. What would you like?”

  “Oh, it’s okay, I’ll scrounge up some food when I get home.”

  Something inside me clicks into place at her words. “You’re not going home. What would you like to eat? I can stop and pick something up or I can make you something when we get to my place.”

  “What do you mean I’m not going home?” She jerks forward in her seat. I meet her eyes briefly, seeing the panic written all over her face. “You’re not taking me to, like, child protective services or something, are you?”

  “No, no, of course not.” We approach a small strip plaza and I pull in, parking the car in the first available spot. It’s too difficult to concentrate on the road and have this conversation at the same time. “I went by your place today to try to find you…”

  She closes her eyes and drops her head back on the seat like she did when she first got in the car. “I’m guessing you talked to my dad?”

  “I did. I obviously can’t tell you what to do, and I know you said you want to figure this out on your own, but I’m telling you that you don’t have to. I’m telling you I’ll be here and I’m not going anywhere. I want to bring you home with me, at least for tonight. We can grab takeout or stop at the grocery store and I’ll cook for us. Whatever you want. You can sleep in my spare room and we’ll figure things out tomorrow, whether that means you going home or…or staying with me for a while.”

  Jordy opens her eyes and stares straight ahead. The businesses in the plaza are closed for the day and we’re far enough from the street that I can’t hear any traffic noise. Silence stretches, filling the car until it presses at my eardrums and weighs on my shoulders. I’m beginning to wonder if it’s possible for silence to suck the air out of a space when Jordy meets my eyes.

  “Fish and chips?”

  I’m so relieved, I could cry. “I know just the place.”

  *****

  Unlike the other night at the food court, Jordy wolfs down her food as if her life depends on it. While we eat, I tell her about my teen years in detail. I try hard not to cry, but the events of today have left me feeling tender, and I can’t help shedding a few tears. Jordy’s eyes glisten as I speak, but other than the small noises she makes to show she’s listening, she doesn't say anything.

  She declines my offer to take her home to see her dad and pick up a few things. She tells me he won’t notice she’s gone and, if he does, he’ll assume she’s still at her sister’s. She asks if she can take a bath, so I set her up with my fluffiest towels, a couple of candles, and an assortment of bath products.

  “Take as long as you want,” I say, hovering in the bathroom door while the tub fills with water. “I’ll get the guest room ready and find some clothes for you to wear. Maybe we can have dessert and watch a movie when you’re finished. Or you can spend some time alone if you’d prefer. You can go to bed or—”

  “Hollie.” Jordy closes the small distance between us and grips my forearms. “I’m going to stay in the tub ’til I’m a human prune, and then dessert and a movie sound perfect. Thank you.”

  I nod wordlessly. We stare at each other for a long minute. Jordy is still holding onto my arms.

  “I want to hug you, but I reek,” she says, and we both laugh.

  I free my arms from her grip and pull her into an embrace. I think of the way Spencer hugged me earlier and how for those few brief, wonderful moments, everything felt okay. Jordy hesitantly loosens her arms, but I hold on to her and she tightens her grip, clinging to me.

  “I think I get it now,” she says, her words muffled against my shoulder. “It’s not a handout when it comes from someone who really cares about you.”

  “Exactly. Accepting help can be hard and I’m sure there will be times when I overstep or try too hard, but I promise it comes from a place of love. If you ever want me to back off, just tell me, but…I’m here and I’ll do whatever I can for you, okay?”