Malia tried to wave off the annoying mosquito buzzing around her ear. For some reason, it wouldn't go away. And now it was on her face, vibrating against her skin. God, those are some really big wings. And then it happened again.

It took her several moments realize that wasn't a persistent mosquito. It was her phone. She tried to force her hands to work correctly and pick up the call, but her fingers encountered something wet and slightly slimy. What the hell?

Blinking her eyes open, she tried to get her bearings. Oh. She was in a chair, in the University Center. Dammit. That revelation snapped her awake, and the phone clattered to the ground.

When she dove for it, she tipped over the chair, and upended herself. Shit. Luckily it was early enough that there were only a few other early-riser students walking around. A huge window overlooked campus, and directly in front of it were six massive leather chairs. She'd finished her shift at five in the morning and come directly here to grab some sleep and a shower before class.

It was now, she checked her watch, 7:30 a.m. Okay, two and half hours of sleep. Not ideal, but better than nothing. You can only do this for so long.

With a grunt, she turned the chair back over and grabbed her vibrating phone. A quick swipe against her jeans got the drool off. "Hello?"

"Hey, Malia!"

"Eva? Are you okay?" Although, given her sister's upbeat tone, likely everything was fine. But it was 7:30 in the morning. Jesus. She didn't have class until ten and she really could use the extra hour or so of sleep.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I actually called you with good news."

"Oh really? This good news couldn't wait until I've at least had coffee?"

"This is good."

"Okay, let's hear it. What was worth the early call?"

"Well, I hope you're sitting down, because I got accepted. I got the email this morning."

Malia's heart squeezed. "Ahh, baby girl. That's amazing. So freaking awesome. I'm really proud of you."

She could practically feel her sister's vibrations over the phone. "I can't believe that I'm so excited. I have to figure out the entrance registration fee. It's $2000. Everything else is paid for. And they have boarding. I can do my last two years of high school there. And then you wouldn't have to pay Aunt Mabel to take care of me."

And just like that, it felt like someone attached a thousand pound boulder to her shoulder, and she sank like a stone. Two grand? Where was she supposed to come up with that? But she swallowed her worry. "This is awesome. Don't worry about anything. We'll find it. I'll find a way to get that money to you. And I'm so excited. You did really good, kiddo."

Although, technically she did almost have it with her deposit for an apartment.

"I haven't been this excited ever. I mean, all my lab expenses will be paid for, and I'll be provided the best of the best. The telescopes and microscopes and chemistry equipment, all of it. Can you even believe it?" she squealed.

Leave it to her sister to squeal about lab facilities. But that was her little sister, and she wasn't one to judge. "Dude, so awesome. Listen, how about I call later today, and you can tell me the blow-by-blow? I'm going to grab coffee and I've got to get to class." She hated lying to her sister. She’d rather do anything else than lie. But the truth was she could feel herself starting to panic, her breath was getting shorter and choppier, her pulse quickening. She could literally feel her heartbeat in her ears. She was freaking out. She didn't have another ten dollars, let alone two grand.

"Ok. I love you."

"You got it. Love you bug."

When she hung up the phone, she sat back in the chair and curled up into a little ball. She needed another hour of sleep. And when she woke up, none of this would look so bad. And maybe she wouldn't be feeling this panicked. She was only like this because she had no sleep last night. She could do this. She had to. Her sister deserved it.

* * *

She'd been doing that shit on purpose. Zephyr charged up the stairs to the Pittsburgh Boy's Club. Volunteering had always been something he was interested in. He'd done it a lot in New York. It was also a good way to keep him occupied. It kept him from thinking about doing stupid things that would ruin his career.

Things that you keep thinking about doing …

Not that she even liked him, because he'd been a dumbass. She had been in no kind of mood to talk to him, ever, which in hindsight was fine by him. All he needed was to train her, to teach her, and he could do that. And truth be told, she was completely opposite to every girl he'd ever met in his life. She didn't need help. She didn't need him. A fact she'd made painfully clear to him before. So, fair enough. He would just stay away from her and not look at her in class, or team meetings, or anything of the sort. 

Easy. 

He found his way to the front desk and signed in. "Hi, I'm Zephyr Donovan. I'm here to see Laila Jones."

The older brunette behind the counter gave him a dazzling smile. "Oh, Laila is it?"

Zephyr gave her a quizzical smile, unsure of exactly what the woman was getting at.

"Yeah, we have an appointment. I'm one of your new volunteer big brothers."

Her face fell a little. "Oh, well, that's the only reason you're here?"

Zephyr laughed. "Is there another reason I should be here?" 

The woman just laughed. "No. No. I suppose it was too much to hope that that girl would go on a date at some point."

Zephyr just shook his head. "No, I'm just here to volunteer. No dating. I've sworn off." 

The woman just laughed. "Honey, a man who looks like you should never swear off dating. Anyway, I'll let her know you're here."

"Thanks." Zephyr wandered around the lobby looking at the hundreds of photos of kids hung and tucked hodgepodge to any available surface. Volunteering was part of the mentorship program. But it was something he'd always done from the time he was little. His parents had insisted that they all find something they were passionate about to give back to the community in some way. As he was one of the younger siblings, he’d even tagged along for whatever his brothers or sisters wanted to do until he'd found something that he was interested in. 

"Mr. Donovan?" 

Zephyr turned with a smile. "Call me Zephyr." He then saw exactly why the woman behind the counter thought he might be here for a date with Laila Jones. She was pretty—cute actually. And there was something very vulnerable and fragile about her. Even the smile she gave him was shy and tentative. He took her hand and shook it. Strong handshake though, and she deliberately met his gaze. "Nice to meet you." 

"It's great to meet you. We always need volunteers here, so I'm really glad you decided to call us. I checked your references and your background. The work you've done in New York has been amazing." 

He shrugged. "I like hanging with the kids. If I can do some good too, that's an extra bonus." 

"We've got a good batch here. I have a few kids that are too difficult to mentor. But since you have so much experience, I think I want to place you with one of our tougher cases. His mentor just moved away, so he's currently without one, and he has the same story as yours. He lost both his parents. He was adopted by a lovely family. They just aren't really quite equipped to deal with some of his emotional struggles." 

Zephyr understood that. He knew how lucky he had been that the Donovans had adopted him. They'd had a lot of practice adopting kids. His older siblings had helped too. The transition hadn't been easy for him though, and he'd been the terror. He still shuddered when he thought of all the things he did trying to get them to give him up, to abandon him, as he'd seen his mother do to him.

As an adult, though, he understood that his birth mother hadn't abandoned him; she simply died. And that hadn't been her fault because she'd been sick. There was no one to blame. As a kid though, that was hard to understand and grasp. And given that his birth father had never wanted him, he'd waited on pins and needles for the better part of a year and a half for the Donovans to give up on him. He'd done everything in his power to make them quit.

But they hadn't. 

It was after he'd been picked up sneaking into a neighbor's house, rifling through their belongings that John Donovan and his older brothers had all sat him down for a 'Come to Jesus' moment. His father had given him a choice; he could either get his shit together, or he could go to juvie.

Either way, the Donovans were going to visit him every goddamn day. They were going to make sure that he did his homework while in juvie. They were going to make sure that he stayed out of trouble in juvie. It didn't matter to them one way or the other. He could stay in their house, or he could go to jail. Either way, they were going to parent him. 

His older brothers had volunteered to kick his ass every now and then if he wanted the real juvie experience, too. It was then that he realized that no matter what he did, they weren't sending him away. He was a Donovan now. He was one of theirs, and he was stuck with them. Somehow that thought had been comforting.

And then they'd taken them home. Sarah Donovan had been standing in the doorway. She'd scolded each of his brothers for threats she hadn't heard but could likely ascertain. And then she glowered at her husband. She hadn't said a word to him, but the look she'd given him made the older man visibly pale. Then she'd taken his hand and led him into the kitchen and given him cookies. She'd pulled up a stool and ran her hand through his hair and told him point-blank, "I love you. You are one of mine. That said, if I ever catch you trying to steal from anyone ever again, I will tan your hide so fast, you'll wish I’d let your brothers kick your ass." And that had been that. He learned at that point not to cross her. So Laila was right. He probably would understand this kid.

"What's his name?" 

"Trevor Ducane." 

"Trevor, okay, got it. How old is he?" 

"He's ten. Before he was adopted, he was shuffled in and out of several foster homes. Behavior is a problem. He's a good kid. Smart too. He's just terrified." 

Zephyr nodded. "I get it." He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I know every place has got their set of rules and regulations. If you got any extra insight, I'll take it." 

"You really have done this a lot." 

"Yeah, I'd like to help." 

Laila led him down the hall and out the back. There were several kids and a couple of adults playing basketball on the blacktop. On the bleachers, a kid sat watching. For a moment, Zephyr thought maybe he was just on the bench waiting his turn to jump in, but the way he lounged, the way he watched the others, he knew that look. The kid was desperate to be part of the game. At the same time, he didn't want to ask to join. Zephyr inclined his head. "Is that him?" 

Laila nodded. "Yep, that's him. Come on, I'll introduce you." 

"Honestly, if you don't mind, let me introduce myself. It'll probably go easier if it's not all formalized and stuff." 

She slid him a glance then studied him as if she was seeing him for the first time. He saw it then, the flare of interest, the hint of a question. And honestly, she was right up his alley. She was exactly the kind of girl that he'd been warned about getting too involved with. There was something so vulnerable about her that screamed ‘take care of me.’ But he didn't feel the usual pull. He didn't need to fix this one.

No dumbass, you keep trying to fix someone who doesn't want or need to be fixed. And no, he wasn't trying to fix Malia Adams. He was just drawn to her in a way that he hadn't ever been drawn to anyone before. That irritated him. Laila, in so many ways, would be less of a headache, if he was looking to date someone, which he wasn't. It would be easier on him if he was interested in her. There were no complications. She was safe. But, as pretty as she was, she did absolutely nothing. No boiling blood, no nerve endings standing up to take attention. Nothing. He gave her a neutral smile. "I got this. Go ahead and email me the packet. I'll leave all my information and details at the front desk."

She nodded. "Of course, and if you need anything at all, I'll just send you my phone number in the email too. I start early and I'm usually working way past my bedtime, so it's good. You won't wake me or anything." 

Message received. There was a part of him that thought that he should go ahead and pursue this angle, the safe angle, except that part of him was a small part. The greater part of him was so focused on someone else he couldn't see straight. "’Will do. Wish me luck." 

"Something tells me you'll do just fine." 

Zephyr approached the kid and picked a spot fairly close to him on the next bleacher down. "So you're Trevor, huh?" 

Zephyr felt more than saw the kid glance his way. "Yeah, I guess you're my babysitter?" 

"Heck. I'm getting paid for this gig?"

The kid snorted. "That's the only thing that'll probably make this gig worthwhile. In case you haven't heard, I'm sort of a handful." 

"Shit, they're not paying me. I should ask for a raise." 

"You're a sucker if you took this job for free."

Zephyr shrugged. "Then I guess call me a sucker." He inclined his chin toward the ongoing game. "What's the score?" 

"Don't know. I'm not watching." 

Zephyr turned to face him. "Oh yeah? It's written all over your face. Every time the tall, skinny one gets the ball, you lean forward just a little. Like you're paying attention and you know he's about to do something pretty cool. And then every time the shorter Latino kid gets the ball, you sit back and you roll your eyes, like you know he can't ball at all. And you're frustrated with anyone who gives him the ball.

“Then when the girl with the braids gets the ball, well, you just stare at her. I'm assuming you like her. But hey, you could be into that kid. The tall, skinny kid, for all I know." Zephyr shrugged again. "If you're going to pretend you’re not interested, you'll want to get a better poker face." And then Zephyr turned back around toward the game.

The kid was quite for another five minutes. "What's your name anyway?" 

"You can call me Zephyr. All my friends do." 

"What kind of name is Zephyr?"

"My mom was kind of into rock bands or something. What the hell kind of name is Trevor?"

"Trevor is a perfectly valid name. Before she died, my mom said she'd heard it in some Susan Vega song. I don't even know who that is. But I remember she said it." 

Zephyr let a smile slide onto his lips. "That's cool."

More silence. Finally, Trevor spoke again. "So what are we going to do and shit? Are you going to hustle me to do my homework?" 

Zephyr turned to him. "Something tells me I don't need to hustle you to do shit. Laila already told me that you're a pretty bright kid. So you should be able to do your homework on your own. I may check if you have some, but I'm not going to be all over you. You're ten. You're mature enough to get it done. And considering that you're not playing the game, sure tells me that you spend a lot of time on your own which means plenty of time to get your homework done. So, like, you don't need me to follow up with you on that shit." 

The kid’s eyes went wide. "Did you just swear?" 

Zephyr grinned. "Don't tell my mom." That one sentence got through to him because Trevor grinned back. And for the first time since he'd arrived in Pittsburgh, Zephyr felt himself relax.