I thought that was the end of it.
I thanked him again and started to leave, eager to get the girls home, feed them, and hide from the world for a while.
But Mr. Whitmore stopped me gently.
“Daniel, was it?”
I nodded.
“Do you have a safe place to stay?”
The question caught me off guard.
“Yes,” I said automatically.
Then I hesitated.
He noticed.
I looked down at my daughters.
“Our lease is ending soon,” I admitted. “My wife and I were supposed to move before… before everything happened. I’ve been trying to find a bigger place, but it’s been hard.”
His face did not show pity.
Only concern.
“I see.”
I quickly added, “I’m not asking for anything.”
“I know,” he said. “That is usually when people need help the most.”
I wanted to refuse before he even offered. Pride rose in my chest, stubborn and familiar.
But then Rose shifted against me, her tiny cheek pressed to my shirt, and I remembered something Claire once said.
“Love is not only what you give, Daniel. Sometimes it is what you are brave enough to receive.”
Mr. Whitmore handed me a card.
“Call my office on Monday,” he said. “Ask for me directly. We have several family-friendly apartments. We can at least make sure your application is reviewed fairly, without anyone’s threats hanging over you.”
Fairly.
Not charity.
Not a handout.
Just fairly.
That word nearly made me cry.
“Thank you,” I said.
He smiled faintly.
“And for today, please let my assistant help you get home. You look like you haven’t slept in a month.”
“Three weeks,” I said before I could stop myself.
His smile faded into something gentler.
“Then let someone help for one afternoon.”
