I’m about to give up when I see her. I don’t get my hopes up at first because I’ve thought I’ve seen her three times in the last two hours and every time it wasn’t her. Luckily, I realized my mistake before I spoke to the Mac look-alikes or got too close so no one thought I was a crazy stalker or some kind of kidnapper or something. I’m right behind a girl now as she moves down the street, hood up on her puffy but tattered winter coat. I quicken my pace so I’m a little bit beside her and she glances up at me at the very same time I catch a glimpse of the tear in the arm of her coat. It’s her.

“Mac!”

She looks at me, startled, then angry. “Fuck off!”

She starts to run and I run too. Today she isn’t as quick as the other day. I’m able to gently grab hold of her right forearm. She yelps and tries to yank it away and yelps again. “Don’t create a scene, okay? Just stop!”

She’s like an animal caught it a trap, literally. She’s yanking and whimpering and yelping and when she finally stills and her eyes meet mine, they’re filled with tears and her expression is twisted with pain. “Please let go. I won’t run, but it hurts! Let go.”

I instantly drop my grip on her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine,” she barks back using the back of her left hand to wipe away her tears before they can fall. When she glances back up at me her expression is hard. “What do you want?”

“To give you this.” I pull the pamphlet about Daphne’s House out of my pocket. She frowns but takes it and without looking at it, shoves it in her pocket. “And also these.”

I take off my expensive cashmere gloves and hand them to her but she won’t take them. Her arm, the one she whimpered about, is hanging limply at her side. My heart jumps. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you tell me what happened to your arm.”

Her green eyes flare in shock and maybe a little in fear. I’ve never been great at giving off a harmless vibe, but I try right now. I lower my voice and try to soften the hard edges of my face. “Mac…if you’re hurt I can help. No strings attached. No ulterior motives. I just want to help you.”

“It’s nothing. I just scratched my arm on a fence,” she mutters.

“Let me see,” I coax. When she doesn’t move, she just stands there motionless I pull my wallet out of my back pocket and pull out all the cash I have and hold it up. She tries to swipe it with her left hand—the good one—but I hold it up over my head. She even tries to jump for it, but it’s still too high. “Nice try, squirt. Show me your arm.”

We stand there eyeballing each other in some sort of silent battle of wills for what feels like a full minute and then she sighs dramatically, unzips her coat and gingerly pulls her arm out. First I’m shocked she’s only got a thin, dirty T-shirt on under the coat and then I’m horrified when I see her forearm. There’s a deep, six-inch red jagged gash across it. It’s still oozing blood and pus and the skin around it is angry looking. I reach out and touch the skin near the wound. She yanks it away, but not before I feel the heat radiating off it.

“I didn’t say you could touch!” She turns and tries to leave, but I grab her shoulder.

“Sorry, but you’re not going anywhere until we get that treated,” I tell her and she looks furious.

“You can’t tell me what the fuck to do.”

“It’s severely infected, and you will get very sick,” I explain. “So go ahead and create a scene here and someone will call the cops and I’ll tell them about your arm and they’ll get you treated but also put you back in the system. Or do what I say and let me get you help and keep you out of the system.”

“Hospitals ask questions,” she tells me.

“Mac, I’m serious. You could die.” I’m so desperate to get her the help she needs I start making promises I’m not sure I can keep. “That place in the pamphlet, I’ll get them to help you. You can trust them. I swear it’s good.”

The fear is still all over her face like a mask, and her eyes glare at me with pure skepticism but she nods. My wave of relief is short-lived, though. I don’t know where the hell to go. I glance around, like an idiot, and spot a coffee shop a few stores up. “Come with me. Let’s get you something to eat first.”

Inside the coffee shop I get her a juice and a bagel with extra cream cheese, as per her request, and then I sit her at a table in the corner and tell her to eat. I walk to the front of the store, keeping my eyes glued to her, and dial Daphne’s House. Selena answers on the third ring.

“It’s Alex,” I tell her. “Is Brie there? I have a situation.”

“She doesn’t work weekends,” Selena explains and I sigh. I have no choice but to tell her what’s happening. She gives me the name of a clinic that they work with and I open my Lyft app and go to get Mac.

A little over an hour later I’m pacing outside an examination room while a doctor treats Mac. The door is open, at her request, and I keep glancing in, but all I can see is the back of the doctor’s white coat. He’s asked her a bunch of questions and, despite the potty mouth and attitude she gives me, she’s been unexpectedly polite to him. Her answers are clipped, but she hasn’t sworn once and when there’s something she won’t answer, like her age and her last name, she just says “I’m sorry, doctor, sir, I plead the fifth amendment.” It’s absurd and makes me smile. He doesn’t push her.

I hear a shoe squeak on the beige linoleum and look up. Brie is walking toward me with a woman I’ve never seen before. She texted me late last night and again this morning, but I ignored her. I was embarrassed and didn’t want to deal with it. But now, despite the way we left things, I’m relieved to see her. Her hair is in a sloppy top knot and she isn’t wearing an ounce of makeup. I can’t help but think she looks just as beautiful as she did all done up at the fund-raiser.

“Good, you’re still here,” she says, sighing in relief. Did she really think I would just take an injured kid here and bail? “How is she?”

“I don’t know. The doctor is in there with her now.” I shove my hands in my pockets. I can’t stop staring at her. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve never seen her so dressed down, or if it’s something else. She looks so different—younger and somehow familiar.

Brie glances into the room and then reaches out and wraps her hand around my wrist. I let her pull my hand from my pocket and tug me half a foot down the hall. The other woman with her, who is in a pantsuit and trench coat, joins us. I introduce myself to her. She shakes my hand. “This is Laurie Bieksa. She’s a family lawyer and does pro bono work for me.”

“I told Mac no social workers. No lawyers. No police,” I warn, my eyes darting back to the open door. “I promised.”

“I understand that but, Alex, she’s too young to stay at Daphne’s House, at least not without due process,” Brie explains. “We’ve never been awarded a kid under sixteen.”

“If this ends up getting her put in foster care again, she’ll hate me and I’ll hate me.” I feel tension ripple through every part of my body.

“I know. Selena explained the situation pretty well.” Brie touches my arm again. “But she can stay with me. I’m certified to foster. Laurie will get me emergency custody. I have an extra bedroom. I don’t mind taking her in while we figure something better out.”

I stare at her, stunned. The tension in my body starts to evaporate, leaving a tingling feeling of shock in its wake. Is she really going to take this kid in? Into her house? “You’d do that? You haven’t even met her.”

“But you have and you like her enough to want to help her.” Brie’s big dark eyes find mine. “I trust your judgment.”

I reach out and pull her into my arms. I’m so overwhelmed with relief and gratitude I can’t help it. I hold on to her tightly and to my surprise she wraps me in just as tight a hug. “Merci.”

“I’m betting we still have a hard sell to make,” Brie murmurs, her lips close to my ear. The words aren’t intimate but they somehow feel like they are so I let her go and take a step back.

“Yeah, but we can convince her,” I say with a smile. As usual, it’s said with more confidence than I actually feel.

The doctor comes out and calls us over. “She needed a tetanus shot and she’s got to have some IV antibiotics today and again tomorrow. It’s the fastest way to blast her system and get that infection under control. After that she’ll be on pills for another ten days and I’ll want to see her at least once in that time and again to take the stitches out. She’s going to have one hell of a scar. No way around that.”

“Thank you, Dr. Subban. Once again, you’re our hero. I can’t thank you enough,” Brie says, smiling. “I’ll settle with you up front in a second. I just need to talk to our new friend.”

The doctor nods. “She’s a captive audience right now with that IV so go for it.”

He walks down the hall and Brie turns and knocks on the open door. Mac looks up. Her eyes darting from Brie to me and then to Laurie. “Oh hell, no.”

She starts to sit up and I dart into the room, scared she’s going to rip that IV right out of her arm in order to run away. “Wait! She’s my friend. This is Brie. She runs that place I gave you the pamphlet on. Just listen to her.”

Mac’s eyes move across all three of us and then narrow suspiciously on Laurie, but she lies back on the treatment table again. Brie looks serene and relaxed as she walks closer to stand beside me. “Hey. Mac is it?”

“Sure.”

“Is that your street name or your real name?” Brie questions calmly.

“You can read all the info I gave to the doc, so I’m sure you can figure it out,” she mutters.

“Mac…” I warn softly.

She sighs. “Full name Mackenzie Brown. But I don’t use a last name anymore.”

“Cool.” Brie reaches for the doctor’s stool in the corner of the room and rolls it over so she can sit by the end of the table. “Listen, I know Alex told you about Daphne’s House, but you can’t stay there right away. We need special approval because you’re under sixteen.”

“Fine. I’ll check back with you in a few weeks.” Mackenzie’s eyes lock with Brie’s and then shift to Laurie in the corner. “You’re not going to fucking let me leave.”

“I’m not. I can’t. The doctor can’t,” Brie replies bluntly. “But he can let you leave with me.”

Mackenzie’s face hardens into a vicious glare, like she’s trying to make Brie spontaneously combust with just the power of the hate in her eyes. Brie doesn’t even blink. “I’m not a foster parent. I’ve got the credentials, but I don’t take in a bunch of kids for money and treat them like crap. I’m rich. I don’t need money. I’m just helping Alex out because he’s a friend and he wants you to be safe and get healthy.”

Mac’s death stare softens as Brie continues. “You’ll have your own room. No other kids. Eat whatever you want. Watch whatever you want on TV. But no drugs, booze, sex or swearing.”

“Ugh,” Mackenzie groans and I know it’s about the swearing. She doesn’t argue, though, or lecture Brie on how she’s not her parent. “For how long?”

“Until we can get the judge to approve you in our independent living facility,” Brie tells her. “Could be a couple of weeks.”

“Mac, this is your luck changing. I promise,” I tell her.

She looks incredibly unconvinced, but she rolls her eyes and says, “Fine.”

And just like that I saved this kid. Thanks to Brie.