He frowns at that. “Why not?”
“Too busy.” And I spent more money feeding my brothers alone than I felt comfortable with. I figured I’d rather keep the additional ten dollars. Never know when I might need it, and hunger is something I’ve learned to deal with. “You really didn’t need to do that, I could’ve…”
Could’ve what? Pizza for six people is not in my budget, and my fridge and cupboards are bare.
“Just say thank you.” His tone is teasing, easygoing, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling bad about once again stomping on his kind gesture.
“Thank you.” The words are a pitiful squeak. “And thank you for the help. You really didn’t have to do all this.”
As much as I genuinely appreciate the help, dread has formed in my stomach, because I have no idea how I’ll ever be able to repay him.
He dips his head. “You’re welcome. I’m happy to help.”
I shove my hands in my back pockets, rocking on my heels, unsure of what to say next.
He watches me, silent, his scrutiny making me itch. Thankfully, I’m saved by a knock on the front door.
He thumbs over hisshoulder. “That’ll be the food.”
I puff out my lips. “Okay.”
With a questioning glance, he leaves the room, then his feet pound down the stairs.
I blow out a breath and count to ten in an effort to center myself.
Across the hall, I poke my head into the boys’ room and find the beds assembled and the dresser moved to beneath the window. But Thayer and Laith have disappeared.
Downstairs, I peek around, but I don’t see them there either.
I follow Caleb into the kitchen, where he sets the pizzas down. “Where did your friends go?”
“Home, I guess.”
“Oh, well, can you thank them for me?”
“Sure can.”
“Listen.” I clear my throat. “Like I said before, I’m not good with this whole… friendly thing.” I flick a finger between the two of us. “But I mean it, thank you. It would’ve taken me forever to do all this.”
His eyes soften. “It’s okay, Halle. To feel the way you do, you must have been disappointed by a lot of people in your life. When that happens, it’s hard to trust again.”
I nod, averting my gaze. “Thank you for understanding.”
Most people take my behavior for stubborn pride, but it’s not that at all. And somehow, this virtual stranger gets it.
He opens the top pizza box, then peers at me over top of the lid. “Let me guess, you don’t have drinks.”
I wince. “You’d guess right.” This man helped move us in and bought dinner, and I don’t even havedrinks.
With a chuckle, he closes the box. “I’ll be right back. You want a beer? You’re legal, right?”
“I’m twenty-three,” I say, a tad offended. Do I look that young? “But no thank you.”
Watching my mom succumb to alcohol and drug abuse has made me wary of touching the stuff. That’s not to say I’ve never had a drink, but the instances are few and far between. I tend to steer clear of any behavior that could cause me to be dependent on a foreign substance.
With a sheepish grin, he says, “I’ll be back.” Again. Like he’s concerned I’ve forgotten in the two-point-five seconds that have passed.
“I’m going to go check on my brothers.” I point to the living room, where their heads are just visible over the back of the couch.
