Page 76

Cole sighs heavily but goes back to the sink, and Gabe just winks at her.

She flushes slightly and I frown.

Did something happen between them? Something I don’t know about?

Before I can ask, Margo grabs hold of my hand, and my heart jumps into my throat.

She gathers boxes in her arms and heads toward the door.

“Margo, I…”

I trail off. What am I going to tell her? That I send money to the group home every month but never visit?

That I’m afraid to go back?

I follow her with the rest of the pastries, my arms piled high with them.

We load them all into the bed of the truck. She trots over to the passenger side and tries the door. When she finds it locked, she gives me a look through the glass.

Wordlessly, I hit the key fob and she opens the door and hops inside.

I draw in a deep breath and get in, too, but I don’t crank the truck immediately.

Margo frowns. “Come on. We gotta hurry before Cole gets bored and tries making fillings.”

I don’t crack a smile at her joke, just staring out the windshield.

“Marcus,” she says, putting a hand on my knee. “What’s going on?”

I don’t look at her. My throat closes up.

“You should know… they know me there.”

“Do you volunteer or something?” I watch her tilt her head in my peripheral vision.

“No. I used to live there.”

Margo freezes but keeps her hand on my knee.

“O-oh. Well, there’s no shame in that, Marcus.”

I still don’t look at her. Don’t want to see pity in her brown eyes.

“Isn’t there?”

Her frown deepens. “Of course not. You were a kid. Even if you did something bad…”

I bark out a dark chuckle.

“Did a lot of bad things. I didn’t grow up nice, Margo. Didn’t have a grandmother that taught me to cook like Gabe or a mother who loved me like Cole.”

“Look at me.”

I shake my head.

“Please.”

I slowly turn my eyes to hers and her brown eyes don’t have pity in them at all, just interest.