A small pause, then the faintest curve at the corner of his lips.
“Yeah. I know what I’m talking about.”
He glanced back again. This time, our eyes met through the reflection in the glass.
“She’s looking for remote work. Maybe research assistance, data handling—whatever you’ve got open. I can send her resume if needed.”
He nodded a few times, murmuring a quiet thank you. Then, before hanging up, he said softly,
“Yeah… I owe her that much.”
The call ended.
He slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned around. For a moment, he just stood there, watching me from across the room. The light from outside caught the wet strands of his hair and the tired lines under his eyes, but he still looked gentle.
“She’ll talk to him tonight,” he said finally. “Email me your resume, and I’ll send it. You’ll get an email if there’s an opening.”
I nodded, unable to stop the quiet hum that left my throat.
He came back toward the table, slow steps against the hardwood, and stopped a few feet away from where I sat. His phone was still in his hand, thumb hovering over the screen like he wasn’t done saying what he wanted to say.
Then, quietly, steady but almost nervous, he said it.
“Until you get the job,” he started, eyes locked on the stack of papers instead of me, “I’ll cover everything you need. Rent. Food. Whatever it is, tell me.”
I froze mid-scroll. My fingers stopped moving on my phone screen. He looked up this time, meeting my eyes fully.
“This isn’t me solving it with money,” he continued, his voice low and firm, “this is me making sure you don’t collapse or get thrown out before this job comes through.”
My breath hitched.
He wasn’t saying it like an offer.
He was saying it like a vow.
Still, I felt that same defensive twist in my chest, the one that always came whenever money entered the equation. Because money always came with power, and power always came with pain.
I shook my head slowly, hugging my cast arm to my chest. But he stepped closer, kneeling down beside the table so we were level again.
His voice softened. “Aurora, I’m not trying to buy my way out of what I did. I’m trying to make sure you don’t pay for it.”
He exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face before adding, quieter this time,
“Let me do this right. Just once.”
I didn’t answer right away.
I just stared at him, this infuriating, complicated boy on his knees in front of me again, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell if I wanted to cry or forgive him.
I was finally able to move, giving him a small nod. That’s it. Final.Okay, do the right thing.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Aurora
I pushed myself up, the blanket slipping off my lap, and grabbed my phone with my good hand.
Typing hurt, but it was easier than trying to speak.
