"And you must be Caleb," Marcus says, pulling my attention back. "James has mentioned you."
"All good things, I hope." The words are out before I think about them.Awkward. So damn awkward.
"Let me show you guys around before we get started," Marcus offers, either not noticing my discomfort or kindly ignoring it.
As we follow him through the building, I'm increasingly troubled by what I see. Despite obvious efforts to make the space warm and welcoming, there are many signs that the facility is struggling to maintain its basic infrastructure, including water stains on the ceilings, cracked bathroom tiles, and outdated kitchen appliances.
When Marcus points out the small library where teens can study, I even see several boarded-up windows.
"How many kids stay here?" We walk back towards the common room.
"We have beds for twenty-six," Marcus explains. "We're almost always at capacity, with a waiting list."
"And they're all...?" The question hangs because there's no tactful way to finish it.
"LGBTQ+ youth who've been kicked out or run away from unsafe home situations? Yeah." His expression is a mixture of pride and sadness. "Some stay for a few days, some for years. Our goal is to get them stable, finish their education, and build the skills they need for independence."
"Is there much support from the university?"Father's connections with PCU's board. Those could be useful.
"We have a partnership program for GED preparation and university applications," Marcus says. "But funding is always a challenge."
I'm about to ask more when I see a wire hanging from a smoke detector and then another blinking detector right next to it. "Is that two…?”
Marcus follows my gaze and sighs. "Yeah, our wired fire system is... let's say 'temperamental.' It's on the list, but?—"
"But the funding goes to the kids first." Gavin's words from earlier.
"Exactly." Marcus shoots me an appraising look. "You seem concerned."
"I am. This place is important, but it needs work to be safe."
"Tell me about it," he says with a rueful laugh. "I have a wish list a mile long. Since the kids here have fallen through the cracks of a broken system, we are doing the best we can.” He rubs a hand over his hair in frustration. “But unless you've got a construction company in your back pocket..."
An idea begins to form in my mind, one that has nothing to do with James and everything to do with the reality of what I'm seeing. "What if I could help? My family has connections, donors, and people who could make a difference here."
Marcus looks skeptical. "That's generous, but?—"
"I'm serious. These kids deserve better than leaky roofs and faulty wiring."
Drew, who's been listening nearby, approaches with a curious expression. "Is this about James?" he asks quietly. "Are you trying to impress him?"
The question would have angered me a few weeks ago, but now I understand it comes from genuine concern. "It's a fair question. But no. This is about kids who deserve a better start to adulthood. I'll figure out James on my own."
Drew studies me for a moment, then nods. "Good answer. Let me know how I can help."
Before Marcus can say anything else, a cheer goes up from the common room.
"Looks like your Japanese friend arrived with the supplies," Marcus says with a grin. "Time to get this party started."
Haru, looking more comfortable than I've seen him since Christmas Eve, is supervising the unloading of shopping bags filled with discount gingerbread house kits, frosting, and enough candy to send a small army into sugar shock.
"Clearance was eighty-five percent off!" he announces proudly. "I negotiated with the store manager for an additional discount when buying in bulk."
"The man's a retail ninja," James comments, appearing at Marcus's side. His eyes flick to me briefly before looking away. "Hey, guys," he adds, careful to address the group rather than me specifically.
"Alright, listen up, everyone!" Marcus claps his hands to get the room's attention. "For those who don't know, this is our annual Gingerbread Disaster competition. The tradition started six years ago when James and his roommate realized that gingerbread houses get marked down to practically nothing after Christmas."
James shifts uncomfortably at the attention, but I see a small, proud smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
