I bark out an incredulous laugh, “Wow, is that the thanks I get for saving you?”
“Thank you. Now, why are you here?” He adjusts his rucksack on his shoulders and taps his foot like I’m keeping him from an important appointment.
“You broke the window last night; did you think I was going to let that go?” I cross my arms.
He rolls his eyes. “You shouldn’t have tried to lock me in.”
My neck almost snaps off when I lurch backwards in surprise. This kid… “Huh? Have you forgotten that you broke into my bakery and then fell asleep after you cried all over me?”
His cheeks flush red with embarrassment, but he doesn’t let it show anywhere else. His eyes are calm, his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his jeans, his smile the picture of devil may care. “I didn’t break in. The door was unlocked. And I only cried because I wanted to leave, and you wouldn’t let me.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “The door wasn’t unlocked.” But I allow him his pride, and don’t push back on the rest. “However, you got in, you shouldn’t have been there at all. Are you going to tell me why or are you going to force me to turn you in?”
“You can’t prove I was there,” he pushes.
“We have video surveillance,” I lie.
He crosses his arms over his bird-like chest and gives me a long assessing look, like he’s trying to decide if he can trust me and then sighs in resignation, his shoulders slumping like the weight of the world just landed on them. “I study there. I don’t touch anything, and I don’t make any trouble. I won’t be back. If you tell how much the window costs, my family accountant will send you whatever you need.”I shake my head in grudging respect. He’s a little shit, but he’s braver than that group of boys combined.
“Oh, you’re going to pay me back alright. But it’s not going to be as easy as calling Jeeves. You’re going to keep coming to the bakery. And when I’m done with my work, you’re going to clean up. You’re going to work until you’ve done enough hours to pay the insurance deductible on that window,” I inform him and wait for the outrage.
It doesn’t come.
Instead, his shrewd little eyes glitter with interest. “You mean, like baking?”
“No. I mean like cleaning up, sweeping, wiping stuff down. You can study while I bake and when I’m done, you can clean up.”
“Oh.” He frowns and his eyes narrow and I can practically hear his brain rerouting itself.
“What time do you want me to come by?” he asks, and I smile, impressed with how quickly he made up his mind. I expected he’d do like my brothers whenever they have to help in the kitchens – kick up a fuss and whine.
“I’ll be here to get you at 8pm.”
His smile disappears. “You’re gonna come get me?”
I fold my arms over my chest, assuming a stance of authority. “I don’t know how you got to the bakery yesterday, but you’re too young to be going anywhere that time of night alone.”
He balks. “I rode my bike like I always do. It’s fine.” His somber expression reminds me of all of the things he’s recently lost. I relent.
“Fine, but when we’re done, I’ll throw your bike in the back of my car to bring you back. That’s the deal.” I add when he opens his mouth to argue. “You get to study while I work, and then you help me clean up. When you’ve worked enough hours to earn the $500, you’re free to go.”
“Okay,” he croaks out. He looks sharply at the ground, but not quickly enough to hide the tears that well in his eyes.
My heart squeezes in empathy.
I hate for people to see my tears, too.
I walk over to him. I bend so we’re eye level and grab his chin and turn his face up to mine.
“I’m sorry about your stepfather.”
He blinks up at me in surprise. “Sure, thank you.” His eyes mist and he blinks to clear them and gives me a heartbreakingly brave smile. I run a hand over his hair and it’s not my imagination when he nuzzles against my palm before stepping back.
“I know it feels like the entire world is too small to hold your hurt, and there’s no shame in crying. if you need to talk, I won’t mind listening.”