“Oh.”
For some reason, I feel the need to impress him. Or at the very least change his opinion that I’m some spoiled rich kid who has never faced adversity. “I knew since I was young that I wanted to work with kids struggling in the foster system and give them a different choice,” I explain and pause. I’m about to tell him why—the full real reason—but I chicken out. “My grandmother died when I was nineteen and the only way to start the ball rolling on Daphne’s House was to have it done in my parents’ name because they were the trustees on my inheritance until I turned twenty-five. The place is mine, from the idea, to the money, to the building. I just never bothered to change the paperwork once I got out of college and started running it.”
Now his expression changes. Those stormy blue eyes now regard me with awe and, most importantly, respect. “Was Daphne your grandmother’s name?”
“No.”
“Breakfast!” Mackenzie yells.
She’s carrying three plates of eggs and bacon. Alex and I stand up. I walk over to the tiny square dinner table that’s set up just next to the kitchen, but Alex doesn’t join.
“I already ate and I have to head to the airport,” he explains and carries his half-empty coffee cup down into the kitchen. I watch him drain it and place it in the sink. Mackenzie shrugs and starts to scrape the food on his plate onto hers.
“Thanks for the coffee.” He smiles at me and his eyes dart to Mackenzie, who is basically shoveling the food into her mouth at an astonishing speed. “And everything.”
I get up and walk him to the door. He leaves without another word and I close the door and lock it behind him. When I sit back down at the table she’s already finished half of the food on her plate.
I pick up a strip of bacon with my fingers and tear off a piece. She’s cooked it perfectly; it’s crispy without being dry. Mackenzie is watching me with a hopeful look so I smile. “Delicious.”
A brief but happy smile flies over her elfin features.
“How did Alex find you?”
She swallows down a mouthful of eggs. “He stopped a dude from beating me up for taking a half-eaten piece of pizza from a Dumpster.”
I nod like that’s no big deal, but it’s gross and it breaks my heart that it was her life. I have to make sure it doesn’t become her life again. She shoves and entire strip of bacon into her mouth and swallows it down after only a couple chews. I can’t help but warn her. “Take your time.”
She pauses and for a second I think she might be pissed off but then she admits, “I’m just used to having to rush.”
I nod and for some reason I don’t even want to analyze, I find myself pulling the conversation back to Alex. “So he stopped the guy from beating you up and you became buddies?”
“Not really. He bribed me with money to meet him again so he could give me info on your charity place, but I ghosted him,” she tells me and pauses to eat another heaping forkful of eggs. “I didn’t trust him because he fed me some crap about having been a street kid. I mean, really, street kids don’t turn into him, you know?”
Wait, what? Did she just say…
I swallow down my own mouthful of eggs. “He said he was homeless? When? Why?”
She nods and takes in my expression. “I know, right? It’s gotta be total bullshit. Anyway, I don’t know if it was just dumb luck, but he found me again and made me show him my arm and well, you know the rest.”
“Yeah.” I chew absently on another strip of bacon, not really even tasting it.
Alex told her he was homeless? Was that just a line to get her to open up to him? He’s full of lines. He is a genius at coaxing and flattering and getting what he wants. Maybe he was using those “talents” for good in this situation with her instead of evil. Because honestly, there is no way he was homeless. How does a homeless kid play hockey? And he had to have played when he was young. You don’t get to the professional level without working hard as a teenager. I’ve got so many questions, but will he answer them if I ask?
“So what does he do for a living?” Mackenzie asks. “Is he like an actor or a model or something?”
The strangest sounding bark of a laugh escapes my mouth and she stares at me, both eyebrows raised. “Sorry. I just…No. He’s not.”
“He could be,” Mackenzie says, shrugging. “He’s handsome for an old dude in a rough action-hero kind of way, don’t you think?”
I don’t answer her but I answer the question internally. Yes, he is handsome, I had to admit that even when he was being a cocky player. And the man who showed up here this morning, the humble, soft-spoken, man…he was even more attractive. But I will not confess that to a child.
“He plays hockey.” I answer her original question instead and stand to collect her now empty plate. “For the Brooklyn Barons.”
Her green eyes nearly pop out of her head. “Wow. Plot twist. Didn’t see that coming. So is he any good?”
I shrug. “I guess so. He’s been playing for years for a lot of teams.”
“Guess that explains all his scars.”
