Page 33 of Deck the Skulls
He almost used the word love but managed to stop himself in time. Rissa wasn’t ready to hear that yet, or that they wanted forever with her.
Instead of looking scandalized, Samatha smiled widely at him, showing off dimples. “That’s so romantic!” She turned to Rissa. “I’m happy for you, but don’t think you’re getting out of giving me all the details. Next week, we’ll have dinner at my place with Chris and Lettie.”
“I work nights,” Rissa said quickly.
“Not every night,” Zan reminded her. “We could come too and meet your friends.”
Samatha clapped with delight. “Perfect!”
“Sam!” someone shouted from one of the desks crowded with people. “I need a little help.”
“Be there in a sec,” Samatha called back. She pointed to a desk with no chairs and stacked high with paper. “Clear off that desk, and I’ll make a copy of the waitlist for you. As you call the first couple of people, have them bring their chairs and leave them. After that, you’ll have chairs for the rest of your shift.”
Obviously familiar with how things worked, Rissa nodded. “Got it.”
“Don’t forget to grab a laptop,” Samatha said as she bustled off.
Zan followed Rissa to grab a laptop from a stack of them, then to the desk Samatha assigned them. He helped her clear it off by stacking boxes full of paper on the floor. When he pointed out they’d be in the way, she sat on one stack.
“Better than standing and leaning over the desk,” she explained, pointing to the second stack. “You can sit there or go for a walk. You don’t have to stay.”
“I’m invested now,” Zan said with a shake of his head. “What are we going to be doing?”
“Helping people sign up for SNAP and/or WIC,” Samatha said as she swept by to hand Rissa a piece of paper. Then she was off again, answering someone else’s call.
“SNAP and WIC?” he asked, settling on his stack of boxes. There was so much paper in them that they didn’t collapse under his weight.
“SNAP is food stamps and WIC stands for women, infants, and children. It’s another assistance program. Mom and I had to deal with a lot of different state and local agencies and got to know how they operate. It’s nice to be able to help people who are struggling like Mom and I did. A lot of time they just need help figuring out what forms to fill out.”
Sympathy filled Zan along with a fierce pride in his mate. “You’re incredible!”
Rissa’s expression was confused when she looked up from the laptop. “Um, thanks?”
Leaning in close, he cupped her jaw in his hand, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. “I know you worked your ass off before we met. You didn’t party, and you lived in a crap apartment. I’ve seen your stuff, sweetheart, and you weren’t spending a lot of money on your wardrobe. Be honest, where was the money going?”
She blinked a few times before answering reluctantly. “Rent and food. Don’t you pay attention? Everything’s expensive.”
He didn’t let go and waited, letting her find the words. She squirmed a little and tried to slide her gaze away, but he made a soft, negative sound.
“I’m not giving money to this place,” she said finally, sounding a little defensive.
“But you’re donating somewhere else, right?” he pushed. “Or are you giving it tosomeoneelse?”
She closed her eyes, as if she was overwhelmed. Letting go of her jaw, he grabbed her and pulled her into his lap, holding her close.
“There’s a lot of people waiting,” she mumbled, even though she didn’t try to get away from his embrace.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he assured her. “But I want you to know I’m damn proud of you, baby.”
“There’s a program that helps girls,” she whispered. “Mostly runaways, but some emancipated minors. After Mom died, they helped me even though I was nineteen and technically an adult. I was so lost for a while, but Joan, the woman who runs it, was determined that I wouldn't do something stupid.”
He didn’t need to ask what something stupid was. He’d never experienced personal loss like that, but he’d comforted a few friends. Grief could make people do things they wouldn’t normally do, including self-destruct.
“Right now, Joan’s trying to keep her second location open, but she’s having trouble because she lost some of her county funding. Donations are the only way to make up for it until the next fiscal year,” Rissa explained. “That place really makes a difference. Joan does more than any of the social workers or CPS ever did for me.”
“I’m going to visit this Joan and personally thank her,” he said, tucking her head under his chin. “Thank you for trusting me. I promise you’ll never regret it.”
She took a deep breath. “I know. I should get to work.”