Page 24 of Cinder
Ghost glances up from his phone. “She did hold her own against you, though… and she seemed to be looking for work.”
I reach for my coffee, take a sip, then grimace—it’s cold. I set it down.
“Being able to debate which Spice Girl she likes isn’t holding her own,” I say. “And wanting work isn’t a reason to hire someone.”
Fletch shrugs, shoveling pasta into his mouth. “Still.”
Colt looks over from the whiteboard. “She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, though,” he says. “Most people are.”
Beck folds his arms. “I get what you mean, Ev. We see it all the time. Folks know how to perform—smile at the right time, saythe right things.” His steady gaze lands on me. “Doesn’t mean it’s real.”
I nod, even though no one in this room needs that reminder. We step into houses where everything looks normal from the driveway, and five minutes later, we’re standing in a kitchen that smells like smoke and fear and loss.
We see people on their worst days, and we see what slips through the cracks. And I know how easy it is to miss when you don’t want to see it.
So it’s not just about getting a job filled. It’s about not gambling with my kid because I’m tired or getting desperate.
I’m not willing to risk Elle on that. Not after everything she’s already been through.
Still. They’re right. Penny didn’t seem to be performing. She didn’t scramble when I shut it down or push harder to prove a point.
In fact, she agreed that it mattered. Acknowledged the importance of looking after a child. And she’d met my eyes and held them while she said I needed someone reliable and consistent. But knowing someone’s genuine after one conversation is impossible, and I’m not gambling Elle’s stability on gut feelings or good intentions.
The nickel she pressed back into my palm springs into my mind before I can stop it. The way she told that story about her dad with such fondness, and the way her hair slipped forward over her shoulder when she leaned in to hand it back.
I rub my thumb along the edge of the table and push back from the chair.
“We don’t know anything about her,” I repeat, because it’s the only part that matters. “She could be anyone.”
“She could be exactly what you need,” Ghost murmurs.
“Whocould be exactly what who needs?”
Remi’s voice carries from the front entrance before she does. A second later, she appears in the open doorway to the kitchen, tote bag slung over one shoulder, baby Zela balanced on her hip. Max darts past her legs and straight into the rec room like it’s his natural habitat.
“Daddy!” he yells, already mid-run.
Colt doesn’t even look surprised. He just crouches from where he’s leaning against the counter and opens his arms. Max slams into him at full speed.
“You came,” Max says, like it’s news.
“I work here,” Colt replies on a chuckle, scooping him up. His voice drops automatically, softer around the edges. “Reckon I’ll be here tomorrow too.”
Zela reaches for him from Remi’s hip with grabby, determined hands. Remi transfers her without missing a beat, already shifting the tote up her shoulder and scanning the room.
“I brought muffins,” she announces. “Because feeding you all appears to be part of my marriage vows.”
Fletch perks up instantly. “See? You understand the importance of baked goods, Rem. I’ve been saying this all day.”
Remi squints at him. “What are we talking about?”
“New girl in town nearly stole the last cinnamon roll,” he says around a mouthful of pasta. “And then Ev turned down help.”
Her head swivels to me. “What kind of help?”
“Childcare,” Ghost supplies mildly.
Remi gasps theatrically. “Evan met someone and didn’t immediately accept her into his life? I’m shocked.”
