“A girl can dream.” I waved my hand up the steps. “You’re finally going to race me again, huh? My only request is that you don’t double cheat like last time.”

His lips twitched. “I thought I’d give you a chance to defend your good name.”

I held on to his arm for balance as I reached behind to slide off my sandals. “While barefoot, at that.” I tilted my head. “So before I race you and win, are you gonna tell me if you guys got the grant today?”

“We did.”

“You did?”

A smile flew across his face. I hugged him, holding him tight. “That’s fucking incredible news. The center deserves that funding.”

He kissed my cheek before gently releasing me. “I have a theory that the video you made that we submitted about the senior food program, along with the grant, might have given us the boost we needed.”

I shrugged. “Hey, I’m just the lady who holds the camera. Eddie and Alice are the real charmers.”

“Rowan’s worried that any day now his grandmother’s gonna ask him to get her an agent.”

I laughed. “I would pay actual money to see those two on the big screen.”

Dean’s journey toward a new identity, away from boxing and toward community work, was a long one and not without its bumps in the road. But over the past year, I’d witnessed even more of his confidence returning. And even more of his joy. Like all things, Dean approached his new job at the rec center with a dedication and focus that had the fledgling program growing faster than ever. Rowan arranged for Eddie to be paid as a consultant, and Dean brought him to the office frequently to pick his brain on the most helpful ways to approach our neighbors. Eddie helped Dean build trust in the community and gave him updates from the web of communication that kept South Philly folks in the know.

Dean did a damn good job of trust-building too. It was a regular occurrence for me to be walking home to Tenth Street from the subway stop and do a double take as I spotted my hunky boyfriend sitting in a lawn chair, casually chatting with a person who Rowan or Eddie had identified as needing extra food. Some folks were comfortable right away. Others were resistant, but Dean had always been known for his patience.

He was still recognized as Dean the Machine when we were out together, with the usual mixed bag of sympathy or judgment. More and more though, it was clients and neighbors saying hi, updating him on their grandchildren and how their gardens were doing in this heat.