Chapter 4 - The House on the Hill
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed wasn't the cold.
It was warmth.
A deep, enveloping, bone-deep heat that felt like lying in front of a roaring fireplace. I was wrapped in layers of thick, impossibly soft fleece blankets that smelled of fresh lavender and clean linen.
I blinked against the soft, warm light of a bedroom that was bigger than the entire studio apartment my mother and I had shared before she got sick. The walls were a pale, calming blue, and a massive arched window looked out over a sprawling garden blanketed in falling autumn leaves.
I bolted upright, gasping, but a wave of dizziness hit me so hard I had to grab the edge of the mattress.
“Easy,” a voice said from the armchair beside the bed.
I whipped my head around.
Daniel Anderson was sitting there in a gray cashmere sweater, looking tired. The dark shadows under his eyes were prominent, and his hair was slightly disheveled. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore. He looked less like an untouchable corporate titan and more like a human being.
On the bedside table sat a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup and a fresh plate of warm chocolate chip cookies.
“Where... where am I?” My voice sounded like dry sandpaper.
“You’re in my home, Emma,” Daniel said calmly, keeping his hands resting openly on his knees so I wouldn't feel trapped. “You passed out from exhaustion and hypothermia right at the edge of the alley. My driver carried you to the car before you hit the pavement.”
Panic flared in my chest. I clutched the fleece blankets up to my chin. “I have to go. If the social workers find me, they’ll take me away. They’ll put me in a home. Please—let me go.”
“Nobody is taking you anywhere, Emma,” Daniel said, his tone unwavering, carrying a heavy, immovable certainty. “Look at me.”
I hesitated, then looked up into his stormy gray eyes.
“When I lost Josh in that park today for twenty minutes, my heart stopped beating,” Daniel said quietly, his voice dropping into a raw, painful register. “The terror I felt in those twenty minutes—the thought of him being alone, cold, and forgotten in a city that doesn't care—that’s what you’ve been living with for three months, haven't you?”
A tear slipped down my cheek, hot and sudden. I couldn't stop it.
“You protected my son when you had nothing,” Daniel continued, leaning forward. “You gave him comfort when you were starving yourself. You are six years old, Emma. You should be playing with toys, going to school, and sleeping in a warm bed. You shouldn't be surviving a war zone on the streets.”
“My mom died,” I choked out, the dam finally breaking. The sobs tore through my chest, ragged and violent. “And Greg... Greg said he was buying milk. He left me by the bus station and he never came back. No one wants me.”
Daniel didn't hesitate. He stood up from the armchair, walked around the bed, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. Before I could flinch, he pulled me into his arms, wrapping his large, strong frame around my shaking shoulders.
May you like
It was the first time an adult had held me safely since my mother’s hands went cold in the hospital.
I buried my face in his sweater and cried until I had nothing left inside.
