“That’s almost an hour from here,” he says, and his tone is tight. I suddenly just want to grab Dylan from the back seat and go about my way. I’ve had the worst day so far. My car finally died, and no amount of praying and cursing would bring it back to life. One of the workers at the office looked at it, and he just shook his head. I had to borrow Amy’s Uber account to get here. She’s the closest thing I have to a best friend, but she has her own issues. I know that money is tight for her, too, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I understand if you can’t take us,” I say, trying to keep my hands from shaking by crossing them together.

“How long would it have taken you to get home on the bus?” he asks, and I don’t know where he is going with these questions.

“I’m not sure. Probably longer than an hour,” I answer him. I don’t even dare tell him that I would have to take two buses. Something that we will have to do tomorrow also. We are going to have to be out of the house by six to make it here by eight, and I’ve already arranged a lift with another co-worker who will pick me up at the arena on her way to work.

“He’s had a long day,” he says. “He was on the ice for over three hours.” I look at him, expecting him to say more except he doesn’t. He gets into the driver’s seat, and I stand here, wondering what he was actually getting at. I walk around the passenger side and get into the front seat. The car has a new car smell, a smell I recognize from when my parents got a new car right before I left home.

Reaching behind me for the seat belt, I fasten it while he looks in the back to make sure that Dylan is okay and then starts driving. I have to force myself to look out the window, or I’m going to gawk at him the entire ride.

“Thank you,” I finally have the courage to say. I look at him, and it’s the wrong thing to do or maybe it’s the right thing to do, who knows. One of his hands holds the steering wheel while the other arm rests on the door. “You really didn’t have to go out of your way like this.”

“I have sisters,” he says and then looks at the road. “I would hope that if any of them were stuck, someone would help them.” I nod. “Why do you think I have a booster seat?”

“I have no idea. I assumed you had a child,” I say, ignoring the pit in my stomach.