“Not yet. But I’m thinking about starting. Like maybe today.”

The beginnings of a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. He quickly reined it in. “You think you’re funny, but you’re not.”

“Matter of opinion.” She’d told herself she wouldn’t get involved, yet here she was. Typical of those who didn’t know how to deal with their own problems. They poked around in other people’s troubles so they could feel better about themselves. She pocketed the key. “Bree seems nice.”

He made a dismissive sound. “She’s only staying with me till my dad gets home. He’s a tower dog. They’re the guys that put up stuff like cell phone towers. It’s the most dangerous job in the world.”

He was lying—she knew an orphan when she saw one. She poured some water from the tap and drank half of it. As she dumped the rest down the sink, she thought of how much she used to love working with kids like Toby. She’d been good at it, too, and giving up that job had been heart-wrenching. But as a caseworker, she could help only a few kids, and as a lobbyist, she helped thousands, something she always had to keep in mind whenever she was tempted to quit.

“Here’s the thing, Toby. I have a brother and three sisters, so I know when a kid isn’t telling the truth. If that’s the way you want it to be between us, it’s your choice. But it means I can’t really help you if you ever need help.” He opened his mouth to tell her he didn’t need help from anybody. She cut him off. “And … it means I can never ask you for help if I need it. Because there’s no trust. See how that works?”

“Who cares?”

“Apparently not you.” There were no dirty dishes in the sink. Either Panda hadn’t eaten or he’d washed up after himself. She took a banana from a bowl on the counter.

“My dad really was a tower dog,” Toby said in a small voice from behind her. “He died when I was four. He was saving another guy who got stuck, and that’s the truth.”

She peeled the banana, deliberately keeping her back to him. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t even know who my father was.”

“What about your mom?”

“She died when I was fourteen. She wasn’t a great mom.” She concentrated on the banana, still not looking at him. “I got adopted, though, so I was lucky.”

“My mom ran away not too long after I was born.”

“It doesn’t sound like she was a great mom, either.”

“My grandma was great.”