“Oh, yeah, it’s fine.”
“Maybe I can?” Rita offered, but Penn stepped away.
“Thanks, you’re all very kind.” He turned to me. “And I appreciate you wanting to keep me safe and all, but I think I’ll be fine and anyway, I’m leaving town soon.”
“Leave?” Matteo gasped. “Where are you going? Why are you leaving?”
“Job opportunity,” he answered even though I knew that was bullshit.
“Do you have to?” Matteo’s lip jutted out, and I’d have laughed if I hadn’t been curious about Penn’s answer.
“Yeah, sorry, buddy.”
We were all silent for a minute before Rita spoke up. “You must be hungry; dinner is almost done. Stay, please?”
Bless her, because it was hard to say no to Rita, and I had a feeling it had been a while since Penn had eaten a home-cooked meal.
His shoulders slumped. “Okay, that sounds nice. Thanks.”
“Good, I’m just going to go finish up. Matteo, set the table please.”
“But, Mom!”
“Now.”
Matteo sighed but followed her to the kitchen…and then it was just the two of us.
“How about we talk?” I motioned for him to follow me up the stairs. I’d take him to my office, where we’d have some privacy.
He didn’t argue or react at all, simply followed behind me. Fortunately, my office had been cleaned of the broken keyboard and lamp a few days ago.
“Have a seat.” I went to my desk chair, putting space between us. Maybe it was for me, maybe it was for him, but it seemed like the right thing to do.
He sat, hands on his lap, his posture relaxed.
“Mr. Hendrix, I?—”
“Please call me Gideon.”
“Uh, okay, sure. Gideon, thank you for real for saving me tonight…err, your guys. I get that you’re worried about me for some strange reason, but I’ll be fine. I think I’ll speak with Alan and tell him I have to leave sooner rather than later. He’ll understand.”
I didn’t know what to react to first, the way he’d said my name, how he couldn’t understand why I was worried, or that he was readying to leave sooner than originally planned. I decided to address none of them.
“You’re not like other people are you, Penn?”
He cocked his head. “How do you mean?”
“Where to begin…” I cleared my throat. “You ran into a house that was on fire, saved three children you didn’t know, got burned for your trouble, then were attacked by a very dangerous man tonight, glass scratched up your arms, and through all of it you haven’t even flinched. You show no fear. Are you—and I say this with no disrespect, Penn, please understand—but are you a sociopath or a psychopath?”
He chuckled thankfully. “You know a lot of psychopaths that help strangers?”
“You’d be surprised how many do just to blend in.”
His brows scrunched, but he nodded. “Maybe someone should tell them kindness makes you stick out more than cruelty.”
I folded my hands on top of my desk. “What’s your story, Penn?”
“It’s just that, Gideon…mystory.”
