“I hate winter. I hate winter. I hate winter.” I had a nice rhythm going. “I hate winter.”

“It’s barely November.”

A deep, amused voice interrupted my mantra, and I looked up to see one of my co-workers watching me with amusement. Levon Hartsfield stood sipping his coffee – and blocking the coffee machine. He was six feet five and probably half as wide as he was tall, so he was used to his height doing all the intimidating for him. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t work on me.

“If you don’t get out of my way, I’m taking you down,” I said in warning.

“Yeah, yeah.” He heaved out a sigh and moved away, settling his solid frame into a chair at one of the few tables our break room boasted. The table, like the chairs and the coffee maker, were second-hand. Any time we got extra funds, we funneled them into the areas that needed them the most, and there were so many areas that little things like our break room didn’t even make the list. Not even after a successful fundraiser like the one we’d just had.

Split down the middle, Piety and I had each managed to bring in enough to cover at least most of our current necessities.

Piety had already announced the funds at her shelter would be going to fix the plumbing and do some updates on the bathrooms. Here, we were getting beds and fixing up the kitchen.

One of the women who worked in the kitchen was married to a contractor, and the company he ran had volunteered to do the work at cost, so we were going to save a lot on that front. Enough to make sure we could replace all the beds and not just the ones in the worst condition.

Once I had coffee in hand, I breathed out a sigh of relief. One thing I planned on contributing to that new kitchen out of my own budget was a decent coffee machine. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d make it a high-end model, the kind that made espresso, cappuccinos, the works.

I loved my caffeine fix.

But while the head of the shelter let me do a lot, I’d probably get razzed over that much commitment to it.

The focus here was the kids.

Not fancy coffee.

I could already hear the lecture I’d get if I even tried to go that route.

I frowned, then took another sip. “I’d take a damn bath in this stuff if I could,” I grumbled.

“You’ve lived here all your life. You’d think you’d be used to the weather by now.” Levon sipped his coffee and watched me with amusement.

“Being used to something doesn’t mean I like it,” I came back at him. “You know, like you.”

Topping off my coffee, I moved out of the break room and went straight to my office before he could respond.

My office was the size of a postage stamp.

A small, square postage stamp.

No windows, no carpet, and the heating hardly worked. The good news was that it was small enough that I could put a floor unit under the desk and have it nice and toasty in minutes.

The bad news was that anytime somebody dropped by to do one of those infamous inspections, they loved to ding us over things like floor heaters. I understood why they had to do it, but even the most well-intentioned regulations couldn’t keep my toes warm.

I made sure I kept the heater tucked out of sight. So far, I hadn’t been busted. I always made sure it was off and unplugged every night when I left too.

I hadn’t even had a chance to hang my coat up on the back of my chair when Roz Flowers came rushing in. Roz was one of the live-in aides who stayed in the girls’ wing of the shelter and acted as a mom, nurse, and all-around saint.

Which sometimes meant telling other members of the staff about the things she learned.

“Jamie Horvath is back, Astra. She’s pregnant.”

Those words, delivered in such a blunt manner, had me closing my eyes.

Shit.

Jamie.

She was one of my favorite kids. I wasn’t supposed to have favorites, but I did. I looked at Jamie, and I saw somebody who reminded me too much of myself, from the uninvolved parents to the almost reckless demeanor she displayed to the world. She was who I might have been if I hadn’t had a friend like Piety.

“How far along?” I asked quietly.

“Five months.” Roz’s voice was grim. “She didn’t realize it until a few days ago. Her parents kicked her out, of course. You know how those two are.”

I did, unfortunately. “That’s completely bullshit. I know for a fact that they never even bothered to go see the family counselor we recommended to them when Jamie went home the last time.”

Slapping my hands on my hips, I glared at Roz, although I wasn’t angry with her. It wasn’t her fault. She’d worked almost as hard as I had to get Jamie home and her family into the therapy they needed.

“No surprise there.” Roz pressed her lips together and looked away. After a few seconds, she looked back at me. “She’s pissed off, and I can’t blame her. Pissed and hurt. She came in last night, and she won’t talk to anybody. It was like pulling teeth to get her to give me that much. I was hoping maybe you’d go talk to her.”

I was already draining the last of my coffee before Roz finished talking.

* * *

“It’s not like I care.” Jamie said the words with complete sincerity, and if it wasn’t for her swollen red eyes, I’d almost have been tempted to believe her.

Sitting at the foot of her bed, I pulled my knee up to my chest and rested my chin on it, turning my answer over in my head. Piety had kept me grounded enough that I’d curbed my more destructive impulses. If I hadn’t had her, I might have resorted to some of the same behaviors that Jamie had used, including when she’d run away and landed here the first time. I liked to think that my parents wouldn’t have reacted the same way, but I didn’t know for certain.

After all, we’d had our share of fights. They’d said things or done things that had hurt, and I’d shoved it all down and pretended like the pain wasn’t real. It had never been malicious, or at least I hoped it hadn’t. I always felt like they were just more concerned with themselves and the image they presented to the world than they had been with me.

I had no doubt Jamie was trying to put up a front, trying to make me believe that she didn’t care, but I wasn’t going to call her on it. She was fourteen going on forty. Sure, some of that was due to poor decisions, but she was a teenager. It was her parents’ job to guide her, and in that, hers had failed miserably.

“Screw them,” I said agreeably. I wasn’t a teacher or a counselor or anyone in any sort of position of authority that made me feel obligated to take her parents’ side.

Jamie snorted, but the sound was more sob than laugh. “You bet your ass. More Mom than Dad though. She was the one who told me to leave.” She swiped her hand under her nose. “Mom was pregnant before she had me. Twice. She aborted one, lost the other. Sometimes, I think the reason she’s so mean to me is because she’s mad she didn’t lose me too.”

“Oh, honey…” I could ignore a lot of things, but I couldn’t ignore that. Moving across the bed, I caught her in a hug. “You can’t believe that.”

“Yes, I do.” She stared at me with tired, empty eyes. “When I told her I was pregnant, she just shrugged and told me to get out. Said if I was old enough to fuck, I was old enough to take care of myself.”

Even when the kids at the shelter tried my patience or pissed me off, they never made me second guess putting time and energy into this place. Even when I got restless and moved on to the next thing, I’d make sure this place kept going, that I was always available for the kids. It was the parents I wouldn’t miss. They drove me crazy.

As I hugged her, she pressed her face into my neck and started to cry. “What am I going to do, Astra? How can I go to school and take care of a baby and do all of this on my own?”

Rubbing my cheek against her hair, I murmured to her, empty, meaningless words, because she was already crying too hard to hear me. I had no idea what she was going to do. Not yet, at least. But we’d figure that out later. Right now, she just needed a safe place to cry.

* * *

“Yes…yes.” Rolling my eyes as the bubbly receptionist on the other end of the line repeated back everything I told her – twice – I cut in to say, “Please tell Mr. Horvath it’s very important he call me back.”

“I will, Ms. Traore. Absolutely. Can you give me any more information–”

I hung up before she could finish that request. No, I wasn’t giving any more information.

After talking to Jamie a bit more, I’d learned that she hadn’t actually told both of her parents about the baby. Her mom had found out by accident and told Jamie to leave before the girl had a chance to see if her father would take it any better. I was hoping he’d finally wise up and leave the petty bitch who kept pushing her daughter to the wayside. He wasn’t really a bad guy. More weak than anything else. But, if the idea of never seeing his daughter or grandchild again could give him enough backbone to stand up, maybe Jamie wouldn’t have to be abandoned by her entire family.

I wasn’t holding my breath though. I was going to make sure I had a backup plan, or three.

Marking that call off my daily list, I shoved my hair back, then checked the time. I frowned when I saw it was later than I realized. I hadn’t even made it through a third of the things I needed to do. Granted, Jamie’s unexpected arrival and pregnancy announcement had changed things and shifted priorities. But I still had other work. Former residents I needed to follow up on, current residents who needed my help getting jobs.

It was almost four, but I still might get a few of them done. Skimming the list, I selected one that might be taken care of the easiest and reached for the phone on the edge of my cluttered desk. Just as I picked it up, my cell phone rang.

I eyed the name on the screen, debated for about two seconds, then answered, “Please tell me you’ve had a better day than I have.”

“That bad?” Piety sounded sympathetic, but there was something under her words that made me leaned forward.

“Well, it hasn’t sucked to high heaven. Middle of the sky, maybe.”

“Interesting turn of phrase, there.” There was a faint pause in her voice, then she asked, “So, you want to get dinner tonight?”

I was actually exhausted, and the thought of going out in the cold drizzle that had started to fall was depressing as hell, but Piety calling out of the blue had my friend vibe buzzing. Something was up. “Sure. Where at?”

She named a place, and we agreed on a time. She wasn’t in a rush, either.

Dammit. I’d have time to make those phone calls after all.

* * *

Kaleb, Piety, and I sat around a small three-top, the remains of a pizza littering a metal pan in the center. There was also an empty pitcher of beer – split by Kaleb and me while Piety watched with envy. Lifting my glass to my lips, I took another sip and studied Piety over the rim.

She was too quiet. When she wasn’t absolutely silent, she was babbling. I knew my friend’s tells. She was nervous about something.

Since she wasn’t taking the bull by the horns, I guessed it was up to me.

“Are you going to tell me what’s got you so worked up, Piety?”

“Nothing’s got me worked up,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Can’t I have dinner with my best friend?”

“Sure. But when you sit there and brood, then babble, then brood, that means you’re worried about something. I’ve known you for a long time, PS.” I put the glass down and braced my elbows on the table, leaning forward. “Spill.”

Her expression was tight. “Astra, there’s…you know...it’s...fuck...”

She went quiet as Kaleb put his hand over hers. “Baby.”

“It’s…look, nothing’s wrong. But…” She bit her lip and looked away. When she looked back, there were tears in her eyes. “I was really excited about this. I still am, but…hell. This part sucks.”

“What’s wrong?” Suddenly, I wished I hadn’t pushed. I hated seeing her so upset, and a part of me knew it had something to do with me.

“Nothing’s wrong.” She laughed, but the sound was almost as much sob as anything else. “It’s just…Kaleb and I are moving.”

“Oh.” The knot in my chest eased, and I laughed, too, almost giddy with relief. “Well, that’s no big deal. Unless you’re moving to the moon. Then that might be a problem.”

“We’re moving to Malibu.”

* * *

Malibu.

It might as well have been the fucking moon.

The next morning, I trudged into work feeling about as gray and moody as the slate-colored clouds overhead. When the steady drizzle turned into a pounding rain halfway between the bus stop and work, it didn’t surprise me at all.

By the time I made it through the doors, my hair was dripping, rain had seeped inside my coat, and I was certain I had about an inch of water inside my shoes.

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” I muttered, trailing water down the threadbare carpet in a straight line toward the bathroom. I used a few paper towels to pat my face dry, wiping away the smears of makeup that had begun to run under the deluge. There wasn’t much to be done for my hair but pat away the excess water. Normally, I loved my curls, but when it rained like this, they tended to go a little crazy.

“I looked like a drowned poodle.”

Sighing, I left the bathroom and made a deadline for the break room, not even stopping to dump my bag and coat in my office. I needed coffee more than I needed oxygen in that moment.

“Astra.”

“Coffee.” Ignoring the sober tone in my boss’s voice, I continued into the break room and pulled my mug out of the dish rack.

Margo Grady had followed me, and she stood in the doorway, watching me with grim eyes. Somebody else appeared behind her – one of my co-workers, Jonah. His normally cheerful face was downcast, and after he met my eyes for a moment, he looked away.

“What’s the matter? I mean, I know I looked like a drowned rat, but…come on.” I went to push my wet hair back from my face but paused as both Margo and Jonah flinched.

Margo’s lip quivered, and Jonah passed a hand over his eyes. An icy hand grabbed my heart. Something was very wrong. Margo never got emotional, and Jonah never looked that distressed.

Oh, shit.

“What’s wrong?”

Margo came toward me. “It’s about Jamie.”

I shook my head before she could say anything else. “No.” I put my coffee on the table, not even bothering to see if I’d set it down right. I kept shaking my head as I backed away. “No. We’re not doing this, Margo. I need to get to work.”

Cutting around a table, I avoided her. But I couldn’t avoid Jonah. He was big, a bear-like man who stood nearly seven feet, with a bushy beard and curly hair. He was one of the guys we sent in to deal with anyone who had a hard time following the rules.

“Get out of my way,” I said, glaring at him.

This wasn’t happening.

“Astra. You need to listen,” he said.

I shoved him, not wanting to hear what I knew was coming.

He let me, then caught my hands before I could pull away. I jerked back, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled me against his chest, somehow still managing to be gentle. I collapsed against him, and he picked me up like a doll, carrying me over to the table where Margo still waited.

As he sat me down in a chair, she started talking, “She left a little after midnight. The night supervisor tried to stop her. Everybody did. Jonah was on call, and he was on his way, but she wouldn’t wait. They did a search on her rooms to see if they could figure out where she was going.” Margo’s voice cracked.

“She left a letter for you,” Jonah said. “There was also a note to everybody explaining…why.”

“What did she do?” I asked, a numb cold setting inside me.

“The Benjamin Franklin Bridge.” His voice cracked on the last word, but he took a breath and kept going. “Somebody saw her and tried to stop her, but…she jumped. They called 911, but it was...it was too late.”

I stared numbly at the wall, waiting for the tears to start. But they wouldn’t. I was vaguely aware of Margo and Jonah talking about how sorry they were, how no one could have seen this coming.

Unable to take any more, I nodded and got up, making my way to my office. Once I was there, I shut the door and leaned back against it, slowly sliding down until I was sitting huddled on the floor. Only then did I wrap my arms around my knees and let the tears come.