her heat, the faint buzz on my skin where she’d touched me. “Fair enough.” Kenna kept her gaze locked to mine as if daring me to tell her the truth. I took the coward’s way out and changed the subject. “I like these.” I reached out and took a strand of her hair in my fingers, releasing it and letting the curl bounce.
Pink tinged her cheeks. “I prefer it straight.”
My grin grew wider. “I don’t know, Brown Eyes, I think you should let it run wild.” And what I would give to see this woman free and untamed.
I silenced my phone as I wove my way through the halls of the Alliance. Alicia had already texted twice more on the ferry ride over to Shelter Island. I took a deep breath, trying to quiet my annoyance in the same way I’d done my phone. Rapping on the open office door, I fought the urge to laugh. Callie was spinning in a circle like a cat chasing its tail. “Come in. Sorry, I just can’t find my pen.”
I pointed to the top of her head. Callie’s hands flew to her haphazard pile of hair, patting it down until she found her pen, pulling it free. “Aha! Victory is mine!”
I chuckled, moving a pile of folders from one chair to another. “How many cups of coffee have you had this morning, Cal?”
She winced, easing back in her desk chair. “Definitely not more than four.”
“I thought we agreed that two was your limit?”
Callie shrugged, patting around on her desk for some unknown item. “I’m pretty sure my blood is ninety percent caffeine at this point. If I stop drinking it, I’ll probably just drop dead.”
My brows pulled together. “I thought they were going to hire you some more help.”
She sighed, sinking back in her chair even more. “We just don’t have the budget for it.”
“Let me see if I can scrounge up some more donations for you.” The woman was only in her twenties, but at this rate, she’d give herself a heart attack before she reached thirty.
Callie’s expression gentled. “You already give us money and, more importantly, your time. I swear we would’ve gone under at least three different times if it weren’t for you.”
Heat crept up the back of my neck. “You know I’m happy to help.” When I left Boston and started over, I’d wanted to change everything about my life. That meant not being solely focused on hoarding money and powerful alliances. I wanted to use my law skills for good. I’d done some research about organizations at work in this small chain of islands off the coast of Washington.
The Shelter Island Child Alliance stood out from all the rest. They gave children in foster care a voice, an advocate in the legal system, someone who would get to know them and speak to the judges in family court on their behalf. It seemed like something I was uniquely qualified for, knowing the legal system inside and out. I’d had to do a little brushing up on family law, but it had all been worth it. There was little in the past few years that had given me more joy.
Callie slid a folder out from under her perilous stack. “I’m glad because I’ve got your new assignment.”
My last pairing, a thirteen-year-old named José, had finally been able to go home with his aunt and uncle after a nasty custody dispute following his mother’s death. The boy had been so closed off, hesitant to tell anyone who he wanted to live with. Family members on both sides began attacking each other, trying to get custody of José. But after some time, it had all worked itself out.
“Who do you have for me?”
Callie handed me the folder. “This is Zoe Parks. Father unknown. Her mother just ended up in jail for the second time after being busted in a meth sting.”
I took in the little girl’s face. She couldn’t be more than eight years old, and even if her mother did get her act together, the chances of her regaining custody were slim. There was something almost familiar about Zoe. She reminded me of a little Kenna, I realized. Maybe it was the dark brown hair. Or perhaps it was the fact that I’d just learned a little more about Kenna’s history. Regardless, my chest constricted for the little girl who was now alone in the world. “Any family in the picture?”
Callie shook her head. “No one willing to step up.”
“Assholes.”
“Not