“Logan’s church.”
She holds up a hand. “Bash, if you really want to spend all your time around a bunch of judgmental jerks, then I’d just move back home with Mum and Dad.”
Against my will, my thoughts immediately go to Romilly at the wordsjudgmental jerks.To Logan. The two of them simply don’t fit the stereotype. But I know she’s not wrong about many of the others. “You have nothing to be afraid of, Ingrid. I’m only in this for the money.”And the woman I can’t seem to stop thinking about.“I mean, come on. We need to buy quality food eventually, you know.”
She rolls her eyes, folding her arms against her chest. “Speaking of buying things, I got you more goodies.” She nods toward the coffee table in the living room, beside the fireplace. From here, I can already see a colorful pile of lollipops and fidget spinners.
“Thanks, Ingrid.”
“This time, don’t lose the spinners in the woods, and take your time on the lollipops.”
“You must really hate the smell of my cigarettes.”
She rolls her eyes. “I do. Everyone does. Now, no more excuses about smoking again, you understand?”
I silently mourn the near-empty pack in my pocket. “Cross my heart.”
She eyes me with suspicion, so I walk over to the low table and pick up a bright red fidget spinner. I spin it in my hands a few times and pluck a grape lollipop from the table as well, unwrapping it and popping it into my mouth. “You’ll be in a smoke-free home again by morning.”
Her body visibly relaxes. “I’m going to bed.” She stands from her seat and goes upstairs, leaving me alone with my new treats.
When eighteen-year-old Bash took up cigarettes to make his parents angry, he never thought he’d still be struggling with it, at twenty-five. And eighteen-year-old Bashcertainlynever suspected that a childish stack of things like fidget toys and candy could effectively curb the cravings. If I hadn’t lost my last spinner and burned through all the candy before the store had achance to restock, I doubt I would have been so tempted to turn to this latest pack.
I settle into the leather armchair beside the fireplace. The heat relaxes me as I play with the spinner in my hands. As much as I hate to admit it, I very much enjoy smoking. But if I want to be as healthy as possible for my next fight, it’s got to go once and for all. I can’t let this vice ruin the one thing that makes me feel unshackled in a world full of structure.
I can only hope the same thing will happen Wednesday morning at my new job—the job that will help me afford to finally get back in the gym.
Chapter Six
ROMILLY
The smellof freshly brewed coffee and warm breakfast fills the cozy, sunlit space of the Harvest Valley soup kitchen. The soft yellow walls make the whole space feel uplifting, along with the warm light fixtures hanging overhead, casting an inviting glow across the room.
“Remember me?” The question carries softly through the quiet hum of conversation and the occasional laughter from our volunteers.
I look up from behind the long serving table, and my face brightens at the sight. It’s the homeless man from the other day—the one I gave a few dollars to and promised a hot breakfast if he showed up on Tuesday—which is today.
“Herman! You came!”
He nods, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His worn jacket hangs from his body as he takes in the neat rows of folding tables and chairs, where early guests are already seated. Smacking his lips subconsciously, his eyes flick toward the spread of food. “Sure did. And I’m hungry, too.”
“Well, you came to the right place. Would you like a little bit of everything?”
He nods, and I grab the long ladle, dipping it into the pot of steaming, cinnamon-scented oatmeal. I spoon a generous portion into a sturdy, disposable bowl, then add a plate of crispy bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit.
Herman takes the plate. “If you don’t mind me asking, how can you afford to hand out free food like this? Who’s paying for it?”
“The members of our congregation donate so we can do all kinds of things.” I smile at him. “Because of them, we’re able to help support families in need, reach people in other countries who are living in poverty, and serve breakfast for lovely people like yourself.”
His round, fuzzy cheeks grow rosy. “Thank you. Where do I go now?”
I point to the door at my right, on the other side of the counter. “Men’s group is right through that door if you’d like to join them. There’s plenty of food in there as well. Otherwise, you’re welcome to eat in here and go about your day after.”
“Men’s group?”
“Yeah. I’m happy to walk you over if you’d like.”
Herman pauses, his brow furrowed as he thinks it over, then smiles softly. “Okay. Sure, I’d like that.”
