Two is a Lie(28)
I slide off the seat, ducking my head as a flush heats my cheeks.
He stores our helmets and laces his fingers through mine, leading me toward the entrance. Until something catches my attention at the far end of the parking lot.
“Wait.” I dig my boots in.
A young couple huddles around a small child, holding a cardboard sign. I can’t read the scrawled words from here, but I know the look—the defeated postures, dirty hair and clothes, overall desperation radiating from them.
I let go of Cole’s hand and jog toward them, with the sound of his footfalls trailing behind me.
When I reach the family, my heart sinks. The child—a girl around Angel’s age of four—holds a scroungy little dog against her chest. The sign in the man’s hand is the usual Will work for food, and the woman’s blank stare and deep frown suggests she’s given up on life.
“Hi there.” I hold out a hand to the woman. “I’m Danni, and this is Cole.”
Cole offers them a smile and a chin lift.
“Oh, um… I’m Holly.” She shakes my hand and tries to smile back, but it strains her face. “This is my husband, Frank, and our daughter, Aubrey.”
“That’s an adorable dog, Aubrey.” I crouch before her. “Do you like sandwiches?”
She nods, her gaze wary, skittish.
“We’re headed into the bakery.” Cole hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “You want to join us? My treat.”
They accept with enthusiastic nods, and I give Cole my biggest, most grateful grin.
Later, after our bellies are full, the little girl steps outside the bakery to untie the dog and walk along a grassy area.
I lean across the table and eye her parents. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”
Frank explains their circumstances, a story I’ve heard countless times. He and his wife lost their jobs in California. Then they lost their house and everything they own. They came to the Midwest for the lower cost-of-living and had to sell their car along the way to feed themselves and put a roof over their heads. They’ve been staying in a motel and were forced to check out this morning. They’re out of money with no hope in sight.
“There’s a homeless shelter about ten minutes from here.” I soften my tone. “I can—”
“We appreciate your help. We really do.” Holly’s chin trembles as she gazes out the window at her daughter and the tiny mutt. “But that dog is all she has left. Homeless shelters don’t take pets—”
“This one does.” I grip her hand on the table between us. “It has private rooms for families, healthy food, and fantastic programs to help you find jobs and get on your feet again. I’m actually on my way there now.”
Cole arches a brow at me, his eyes asking, This is what you’ve been up to?
“It’s called Gateway Shelter,” I say to her and nod my head at Cole. “Cole’s never seen it, and I’m taking him there to show it off, because it’s such a great place.”
“Are you sure about the dog?” Her voice scratches with disbelief. “I’ve never heard of shelters allowing pets.”
It’s true. Most don’t because of the hassle and cost. As a result, many people—women specifically—tolerate abuse just so their cats or dogs will have a home. I come across homeless families all the time, just like this one, who refuse to seek shelter because their companion animals aren’t welcome.
A while back, I put a bug in Father Rick’s ear—the manager at Gateway—about modifying the no pet rule. Unsurprisingly, during the latest round of renovations, he made changes that would accommodate dogs and cats.
“I promise.” I squeeze her hand. “Your dog is welcome.”
Holly and Frank share a look, and their eyes take on a bright shiny glimmer.
“We’d love to check it out,” Frank says. “It’s ten minutes away?”
“A ten-minute drive.” I glance out the window, squinting at the motorcycle. I’ll have to call a cab.
“Give me a minute.” Cole steps outside and puts his phone to his ear.
“He’s really handsome.” Holly blushes, tucking a strand of short auburn hair behind her ear.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “He really is.”
Frank, who isn’t hard on the eyes either, shakes his head.
When Cole strides back into the bakery, he pockets his phone and meets my eyes. “Trace is sending his driver. The car will be here in a few minutes.”
He called Trace? That’s so…expected. My chest feels like it’s filled with sunshine and dimples, and I have the sudden urge to dance. Like jump up on the table and shake everything I have. But I refrain myself, settling on a smile.