Thora doesn’t meet his eyes. “I know,” she says. “That’s why I did it.”

He stares at her, uncomprehending. He wants to scream at her, to ask her why. Who takes offered love and burns it? The social worker’s voice again. She will try and test your boundaries.

“You’re lucky you didn’t burn the house down,” he says.

“Or unlucky,” she shoots back. “Perspective is everything.”

There have to be consequences. Otherwise, she will think there is nothing she can’t do. And that won’t help her become who she needs to be. Another breath. “You will learn how to crochet, and you will fix this. I don’t care how long it takes. When you get home from school tomorrow, we start.”

She snorts. “I can’t make something like that.”

“Is that why you did it? Because you don’t think you can make something beautiful?”

“No. I told you why.”

Santi feels like he is drowning, like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. “You will learn. Starting tomorrow.” He goes to the door. It’s imperative he not give her the last word.

“I hate you,” she says, with a venom lifetimes older than her years.

He does a lousy job keeping his expression neutral. “Well, that’s a shame, because I love you.”

“How? How do you love me?” Her face screws up. “You don’t even know me. I just—arrived in your house, and now it’s your job to pretend to be my dad. It’s okay. I understand. You probably thought you’d get some sweet little girl who’d be easy to love. But you don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying.” He can’t keep the emotion out of his voice. Calm, he thinks, but it’s useless, like trying to pin down a hurricane. “I don’t say things I don’t mean. I loved you before I met you.”

She stares at him. “That’s impossible.”

He shrugs. “I don’t care. It’s true.”

She gropes for words, her fingers digging into the bedcover. “That’s not how love works. You don’t just love someone for no reason. You love them for who they are, or what they do, or how they look. They have to deserve it.”

A minor epiphany: this is what she wants, an argument. “And then you stop loving them if they stop being that way? If they stop deserving it?”

Thora looks like she’s finally on solid ground. “Yes,” she says defiantly.

Santi shakes his head. “Thora, no. If love was something we had to deserve, we would all be loveless. No, love is what the world owes us.” He gives her an apologetic smile. “Sometimes, it doesn’t pay up, that’s all.”