“Can I use your shower?” His voice was soft as rain, and he looked at me patiently, a look I would come to know well.

Kael was familiar in the way that only a stranger could be. I hadn’t seen him before today, but already I had memorized his face. The thick draw of his brow, the little scar above his eye. It was like I had come across him somewhere, or sometime, before. Maybe I had seen him in passing, at a store or on the street, in line for a coffee or to pay for gas. Or maybe he had one of those faces that felt familiar. There were people like that.

“Can I?” he asked again.

I fumbled a little. “Um, yeah. Of course. Of course, you can shower.”

“Thanks,” Kael muttered and stood up, heading toward the bathroom.

He looked so big next to my little leather couch. Actually, he looked so big next to everything in my house, even the china cabinet I bought off Craigslist, before I realized how dangerous it was to meet strangers in the back of the Walmart parking lot. I had a lot of stuff in my house, most of it old and previously owned. Until now, I’d never thought about how my home may have looked to others, but suddenly I felt insecure that he might be judging me. Did he notice the pile of dirty clothes desperately waiting to be washed, the stack of dirty dishes in the sink?

And why did I care?

“If there’s that one pie . . .” Elodie struggled for the English word. “The one with the little cer—” She held up her fingers and I finished her thought for her.

“Cherries?” I had retained zero of what I learned from high school French class. Elodie nodded, but she didn’t have to. I knew she could eat an entire cherry pie in one sitting—I’d seen her do it. And who could blame her? My dad’s wife, Estelle, was a decent cook. If I liked her more, I would admit that she was a great cook. But I didn’t, so I wouldn’t.

I assured Elodie if there was cherry pie on offer it would be hers.

“Is he always this quiet?” I asked her. Then I shouted, “Towels are in the closet behind the bathroom door!” loud enough that he would hear me. Of course, he didn’t respond, but I heard the cabinet creak, so I knew he’d heard me.

She shrugged and winced a little. “I don’t know . . .”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.” I sighed, wondering again what I had agreed to.

She chewed on her lip the way she always did, and I gave her a somewhat reassuring smile. I left before another minute could pass.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN