I stepped closer and, placing my hands on the countertop, I leaned towards her until our eyes were level. Her gaze searched my face expectantly. But I waited to speak until her eyes finally locked with mine. “I don’t want my money back. And I don’t expect anything from you. I chose to bring you here. All I want is for you to eat the damn tofu scramble before it gets cold, because I really made an effort.”
Kate’s stony face relaxed. “Fine.”
I straightened up. “Are we good?”
She nodded.
“Great.” I pushed the plate toward her. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Do you have orange juice?”
Wordlessly, I turned to the fridge and poured two glasses of orange juice before setting one down next to Kate, who had started to eat. I had no idea if she really liked it or was simply famished, but she ate as though she was afraid I’d take the plate away.
“I took your blankets down to the laundry service. I’ve flagged them as priority, and you should have them back by midday tomorrow. If you want, we can send your clothes down too.”
“I already washed them in the bathtub.”
“It really wouldn’t be any trouble,” I assured her.
“Thanks, but it’s not necessary,” she said with a terse smile, and I understood. It wasn’t about the effort or inconvenience—it was about control. She wasn’t willing to part with her clothes any more than she was ready to let go of her rucksack, in case she had to make a sudden getaway. Whether from the hotel or even from me.
I leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Can I ask you a question?”
She looked up from her food. “Sure.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“And how long have you been homeless?”
“Almost a year.” Her answer turned my stomach. “My mum and I lost our apartment two years ago. After that, we moved in with her boyfriend. When she died, he kicked me out. I’ve mostly been sleeping in parks since then. I had a tent until a few weeks ago, but some kids destroyed it.”
“Aren’t there homeless shelters?”
Kate snorted. “There are, but they’re usually overcrowded. And even if you’re lucky enough to get a place, they’re not exactly safe places to be. Especially not for women. Most people just want a warm, dry place to sleep, but not everyone.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
She took a sip of her juice. “Why would you? I bet you’ve never had to worry about where to spend the night.”
I shook my head. “You mentioned your mum. What about your dad?”
“I never got to know him. My mum had a tough childhood. Her dad hit her. She ran away when she was seventeen and ended up homeless for the first time. She found shelter in the beds of random men and got pregnant by accident when she was eighteen. My biological father didn’t want to know.”
“Did you ever try to contact him?”
“No, why would I? I don’t need someone in my life who doesn’t want me in his.” She shrugged and popped the last bite of food into her mouth. “That was really good, by the way. You should think about becoming a chef.”
I laughed. “Better not. That’s pretty much the only thing I know how to cook.”
“So you admit it qualifies as cooking?”
“Call it what you like, but it’s all you’ll ever catch me making. Logan is the chef in my family,” I said as I stacked the dirty plates into the dishwasher, empty aside from two protein shake bottles.
“Logan is one of your brothers?”
I added the two glasses to the dishwasher. “Yes, the middle one. Ethan is the youngest.”
