Page 40 of What We Break
This woman is full of surprises. She's been coming here every week, doing exactly what I do, and she didn't even mention it. Didn't try to impress me with it or use it as some kind of dating resume bullet point.
Whoisshe?
I help Danny unload folding tables and medical supplies while Laine works with Bethanny, the other volunteer, to set up a makeshift clinic. Within ten minutes, they've got two stations ready—one table for blood pressure checks and basic assessments, another for wound care and medication distribution.
The first few people start approaching our setup, and I'm reminded why I like helping Danny with this. These aren't just unhoused people—they're individuals with stories and personalities and specific needs.
"Reid! My man!" Marcus shuffles over, Army jacket buttoned up despite the mild weather. "You bring any of those protein bars?"
"Would I let you down?" I dig into the supply box and toss him two. "How's the knee?"
"Better since you showed me those stretches."
There's Margaret, who's been living in her car for two months and needs her blood pressure medication adjusted. James, who's got diabetes and needs help with wound care on his feet. Izzy, who's maybe nineteen and clearly hasn't been living rough for long—she hangs back, watching everyone else before she approaches.
Laine handles each person with the same calm professionalism I saw at the hospital, but there's something different here. More personal, maybe. She remembers names, asks follow-up questions about things people mentioned in passing.
"How's that ankle feeling, Margaret?" she asks while taking blood pressure. "You said it was bothering you last week."
"Much better, honey. That wrap you showed me how to do really helped."
She's so comfortable here. Everywhere, really. I haven't seen her out of her element at all.
Correction. In the woods, she's out of her element. Everywhere else? She's a boss.
And she barely mentioned it. Didn't bring it up at breakfast, didn't casually drop it into conversation like some people would.Oh, I volunteer with the homeless on my days off, no big deal.She just... does it. Because it matters. Because people need help.
When's the last time I met someone who did things like this and didn't want credit for it?
Too fucking long. Or maybe I've just been meeting the wrong kind of women all this time.
"Reid?" James, the diabetic guy, waves me over. "Can you take a look at this? Laine said you know what to do."
I check the wound on his foot—it's healing well, no signs of infection. "Looks good, James. Keep it clean and dry, change the dressing every day."
"She's good people," James says quietly. "Doesn't talk down to us like some of the other medical folks who come through."
"Yeah," I say, watching Laine patiently explain how to properly dispose of insulin needles to an overwhelmed-looking woman. Her hand is on the woman's arm, gentle and reassuring. "She really is."
James gives me a knowing look. "You're a lucky man."
"We're not—" I start, then stop. Smile. "Yeah. I think I might be."
By the time we're packing up, the sun's starting to set and my back aches in the good way—the way that means you actually did something useful with your day. Have I had a backache because I laid on the couch the whole weekend watching TV?
Yeah.
But today was hella productive. We've seen twenty-eight people, distributed medications, cleaned wounds, checked blood pressures, and connected three people with social services for more permanent housing assistance.
Marcus waves as we're loading the van. "See you again, Reid?"
"You know it, man. Save me some of that coffee you've been hoarding."
He laughs and flips me off affectionately.
"Same time next week?" Danny asks Laine as we're loading supplies back into his van.
"I'll be here."
