A Chance in the Night

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he said, breaking into a smile that she didn’t immediately return. In fact, she seemed quite distressed that he’d approached her, much less addressed her. “You look good,” he added, hoping to break the awkwardness between them.

“Thank you,” she murmured, returning her attention to the boy he assumed was her son, effectively communicating the “I’m not interested in having this conversation” vibe.

He ought to take the hint but he wasn’t ready to walk away just yet. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Last time I saw you…” he ventured, hoping she’d take up the lead but he was disappointed.

“Yes, I’m aware of how I looked,” she said, ducking his gaze, extreme discomfort radiating from her trim body. “As you can see I’m doing fine. Thank you for your help,” she added stiffly.

“I get it. You don’t want me in your business. That’s coming across loud and clear. Like I said I was just, well, worried. You snuck out before I woke up and I didn’t see that coming. I figured we’d at least exchange names or something in the morning. It’s not every day I save a woman’s life. It was a unique experience and I’m sorry if I don’t know how to act.”

She had the grace to look ashamed but she also looked panicked that her son might overhear their conversation and for that Christian felt like a jerk. She stepped away from the swing set and he followed. He opened his mouth to apologize but she started first. “I’m sorry. It’s not my style to sneak out on someone who’s been so kind to me but I’d never been in a situation like that and I didn’t know how to act, either.” Never? He found it hard to believe that in her line of work she’d never been roughed up before that moment. His mom had been brutalized more times than he could count. Sometimes it’d been a crack across the mouth, other times it’d been broken bones. Maybe that was the difference between a streetwalker and the high-class variety. “Anyway, I’m just here to enjoy the day with my son,” she finished with a glance toward the boy on the swings and Christian’s gut clenched. Didn’t she realize the damage she was doing to her kid by continuing to hook? It didn’t matter that she was high-class, she’d still been beaten like a common prostitute. What if she’d died that night? Where would that put her kid?

“It’s probably none of my business but you really shouldn’t put yourself at risk like you do when you’ve got a kid depending on you,” he said, even though he knew he ought to leave it be.

The wariness returned to her eyes and her mouth firmed as she said coolly, “You’re right…it isn’t any of your business.”

“Fine. But I can tell you that I’ve seen the damage that parents inflict on their kids because of their choices.”

Her mouth twisted. “Speaking from experience?”

“No.” Hell yes. But he wasn’t about to share the deepest, darkest chapters of his life just to make a point. He gestured at Mathias playing on the playground. “See that boy over there?” he asked.

She followed his subtle gesture then returned to him. “Is he your son?”

“No,” he answered, chuckling as Mathias scrambled up the play structure, going up the slide backward instead of using the steps just so he could slide down again. “I’m his designated Buddy.” At her frown, he explained, “Mathias is enrolled in a state program for kids at risk. It’s like the Big Brother mentoring program but different in that Mathias lives in a group home and I have to sign him out for visits. It’s a bit more structured because of the circumstances the kids are in. Circumstances where their parents have put them at risk because of their environment,” he added meaningfully.

He expected her to react defensively because that was the standard operating procedure for people when attention was brought to the things that they shouldn’t be doing but she surprised him when her hazel eyes warmed. “So you take a kid who is a total stranger out for the day?”

“Yep. Just like renting out a DVD.” She drew back and he laughed, saying, “I’m kidding. But yes, I take a kid who is a total stranger out for the day. It helps them to see that not everything is bad out there in the world. Today, I brought Mathias out for Little League tryouts.”

“What happens if he makes the team? Does he go to another Buddy?”

“Nope. I signed on for the full season. If he makes the team, I’ll pick him up for practices and games. I’ll even volunteer on snack day.”

“That’s quite a commitment,” she murmured, but there was a hint of wistful admiration couched in her tone that made him wonder.

He shrugged. “I don’t mind. Mathias is a good kid.”

“And you do this out of the goodness of your heart?” she asked. “You don’t get paid or anything for this?”

“No, I don’t get paid but it’s worth something to me,” he said. Perhaps if he’d had someone to talk to before his mom died, he might’ve felt less alone, less afraid.

“Oh?”

“I get the chance to make a difference,” he answered truthfully. “Not every kid gets an ideal start in life. I’m trying to do what I can to even the score.”

Her brow lifted ever so slightly as she said, “If only more people were more like you.”

“You don’t believe me. I sense sarcasm.”

“This is Manhattan. Everyone’s got an angle. Yours seems harmless enough, though.”

He tried not to take offense. She was right. Everyone did have an agenda but in this, he didn’t. However, he wasn’t going to waste time justifying himself for it would only make him look guilty. “Believe what you want. Just take me at my word that your actions will affect your son somewhere down the road.”

He must’ve struck a nerve. Her silence felt weighted, filled with something she couldn’t talk about without cost. Then he remembered something from that night. “Listen, if you need help…I might be able to hook you up with some resources. I know a lot of people from my connections to the Buddy program.”

“You can’t help me,” she said quietly, shocking him with her bleak honesty. “No one can.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” he asked. “You mentioned being punished. If you’re being forced…” He’d heard of pimps getting dangerously possessive with their girls. He couldn’t imagine being under someone’s thumb like that. At least with his mother she’d been a free agent. For that small blessing, he’d been grateful. “I could see what I can do.”

She gave him a look from her clear hazel eyes that was at the same time hard and vulnerable and he wondered if she realized how much she gave away with that single glance. “I can’t afford any more attempts.” She drew a halting breath and forced a short smile. “I appreciate your help. I’m sorry I snuck out on you. You deserved better but believe me when I say that I did you a favor.”

He didn’t doubt her honesty at that moment. And he should’ve left it at that. She was giving warnings to steer clear of her and her problems. But there was something about her—and it wasn’t anything about her physically, which would’ve been the easy motivation for anyone else—but rather it was when she looked at her son he saw pure love tempered by desolation. He wanted to know why. And he knew full well his curiosity wasn’t a good thing but he’d been snagged in the mouth pretty hard and there was no shaking it loose no matter how hard he tried.

“At least tell me your name,” he said.

Her groomed brows arched. “What’s in a name? The likelihood of ever seeing each other again is slim.”

“The odds were slim before today and yet here we are.”

“I could give you any name and it wouldn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

She held his stare for a long moment and he wondered what went on beyond that careful facade. He suspected a deep well lurked beneath that seemingly still surface. He half expected her to leave him hanging like she did that morning. But she surprised him with an answer. “My name is Skye D’Lane. Thank you…” She paused in question, waiting with a slight tilt of her lips.

“Christian. Christian Holt.”

“Thank you, Christian, for being there.”

SKYE NEARLY BIT HER TONGUE for going against her own decision to remain a mystery. But she’d felt compelled to at least give him her name. She figured it was only fair seeing as he’d saved her life. Yet, as she chewed her bottom lip, she had a strong suspicion a name wouldn’t be enough for a man like Christian Holt. Men like Christian found projects and Skye had just given him the green light to count her among his. A delicate shiver rocked her at the thought.

Perhaps it was the remnant of her distasteful altercation with Vivian that still had her on edge and feeling reckless. Or perhaps it was just that standing there with this incredibly good-looking man who was smiling at her as if she’d just given him the keys to the castle made her feel normal and she hungered for such simple pleasures. “I used to dance,” she said, the need to be anything other than he already knew caused her to loosen her tongue when she otherwise would’ve remained quiet. She never gave up personal information. Her dancing had been her own, a bright, shiny spot on the time line of her life thus far and she protected it with the fierce snarl of a mother bear. And yet, she’d given him this information without a fight.