Page 35 of Just Between Us

Finally, I make it back to Rhonda, who now stands at her office door, wearing a satisfied smile, staring around the room.

“Lotta kids here today,” I observe.

Rhonda hums her agreement. “They keep on coming. At least a few new ones a week. Word seems to be getting around.” She glances over at me. “Having great volunteers doesn’t hurt either.”

I keep quiet at her praise, rolling my shoulders like I can shrug it off. For some reason I can be cocky and self-assured about everything else in life, but not with this. Working with these kids humbles me, plain and simple.

“You know,” she continues, turning her whole body so she’s facing me, straight on, arms crossed, eyes sharp behind those red frames. Her posture alone tells me what’s coming. “There’s always a spot waiting for you on the board, Liam. Has been for close to six months now. Just say the word and it’s yours.”

I let out a breath and look away. “You don’t want a guy like me on the board.”

Rhonda snorts. “Right, right. I forgot. Of course we don’t want a board member who’s committed, cares about our mission, and is great with the kids.”

I give her a flat look. “Rhonda.”

“Liam.”

“We’ve gone over this. I like how things are. I’m not aschmooze donors over dinnerkind of guy.”

Rhonda puts her hands on her hips. “Exactly what kind of schmoozing do you think we do? It’s more like chatting over a cold beer.”

“Still. I know my role, and it’s with these kids. You know this.”

She nods in reluctant understanding. “Fine. Also,” she adds, lowering her voice, “Thank you for the donation.”

Discomfort burns hot at the nape of my neck. This isn’t something she ever brings up.

“Of course,” I say stiffly.

“I know this isn’t something we talk about, but donations were low last quarter. Yours really helped.”

My eyes snap to hers. “How much more do you need?”

“That’s not what I’m getting at, Liam. Your donation helped us reach our goal. All I’m saying is thank you.”

Surveying the room, I look from kid to kid, each and every one of them needing a place like this to exist. I don’t even want to imagine what a financial goal not met would mean.

“You’re welcome. And if it happens again, please let me know.”

“Actually, I think we’ll be in the black from now on. An anonymous donor set up monthly payments and the figure is”—she lets out a low whistle—“substantial.”

My eyes narrow. “You don’t know who it is?”

At this, Rhonda swipes me on the arm. “Liam, what part of anonymous don’t you understand?”

Shaking my head with a laugh, I leave her and make my way around the room again, doing what I can for each kid.

I hit the road a couple hours later, with promises to not stay gone too long. It’s a beautiful day to drive, windows down, sunglasses on. Fall is encroaching on summer’s territory, threatening to steal the show, but today feels perfect.

Before pulling out of the parking lot, I tap Cassie’s contact to call her, hoping her voice will keep me company on the drive home. She answers on the third ring and I switch it to speaker.

“Hello?” Her voice is sleepy, husky, like she’s just waking up, but it still sounds like a song I want on repeat, filling up my truck and drifting out the window.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty.”

There’s a rustling and Cassie clear her throat. “Is it really three o’clock?”

I chuckle. “Yes, ma’am. Rough night?”