The jacket is a little big but is comfortable. I’m wearing it now, wondering walking home from work while I dream about Gavin Rossi. He’d been a total gentleman when we’d gone back to his place. So much so, it almost made me sad. I’d have enjoyed at least a few more kisses.

And he’d thought about it. I saw him looking at my lips again.

But no, he’d given me the jacket and hesitated a bit, fixing me with that serious expression of his. “Does your father need one?” he’d asked, offering me another jacket.

I’d been stunned. It was the proof I’d needed, I think to be sure the gift had nothing to do with me. He’d thought of someone else who might need one and he’d given me an extra so dad could have a warmer coat during this particularly harsh winter.

As the snow falls steadily around me, I realize it’s getting a bit deep and I’m glad we finished the greenhouse last night.

Today I’ll find out if Gavin got the green light from the landlord to set up the garden. And I’m pretty damn excited about it, to be totally honest. It would be great to be able to have fresh fruits and veggies to feed the people we serve.

Never mind the fact that it means I’ll be working side by side with Gavin. Because for whatever reason, he wants me to help him set everything up. I know he is directly responsible for a huge chunk of the donations of both food and funding we receive. Everything that’s not quite perfect for his restaurants is sent here to be served to those in need. And boy do we serve a lot of people; hundreds a night.

With more food, a bigger staff of volunteers and longer hours of operation and we could easily serve thousands.

A block from home, I feel my foot slide out from under me and I catch my balance on the ice. My heart pounds and I say a silent prayer that I didn’t fall. I’m a broken bone from disaster. Focusing on the scary footing as the snow piles deeper, I make my way home carefully, struggling to push the ever present Mr. Rossi out of my mind.

Once I’m safely inside, I find dad in his chair, his eyes glazed over like the world has ended. He’s wearing the new coat, looking cozy and warm even though there’s something dreadful written in his features.

“Dad?” I say, walking over to him.

He doesn’t seem to hear me and I kneel next to him and wrap him in a hug. Resting my head on his chest, I listen to his heartbeat. He doesn’t move for a moment, then his hand begins to absentmindedly stroke my hair like he did when I was little.

I want to ask him what’s wrong. I really do. But this is so nice I don’t want it to end. It feels like all these little moments we’ve always shared have been stolen away by the heartbreak of him losing his job. He’s been shutting me out and shutting me down.

I don’t know how to fix it.

“I love you, dad,” I say, feeling tears sting in my eyes. This amazing man deserves so much better than he gets. All of this bullshit is fucking with his head. It’s influencing his self worth. It’s destroying him.

And it’s killing me.

He’s a good man.

He got a bad deal.

And he’s suffering alone because I don’t know how to help him.

A knock at the door pulls me to my feet and I walk over to open it. On the step is none other than Gavin. His dark eyes assess mine and I blink, trying to fight back the tears that have gathered. But rather than freeze or look away all awkward like most guys do, he steps in and pulls me into a hug that feels like coming home.

I cling to him, hearing the strong steady beat of his heart. The scent of him surrounds me and his warmth seeps into my bones like the cold is being exiled. With my arms around his neck, I just let him envelop me.

Only when I move my arms and bring my hands down to press to his powerful shoulders does he release me.

But he still doesn’t act weird. He doesn’t ask me if I’m okay.

“Are you ready?” he asks instead and I silently thank him for not putting me on the spot or making this weird. He’s being a good support without any of the crap that guys usual do that makes me regret leaning on them.

“Ready?” I ask, taking a deep breath as I look over my shoulder at dad, who still doesn’t seem to have moved.

Rossi is patient. He lifts a folded paper and I take it. Unfolding it carefully, I see the landlord’s signature first, some unreadable, bold, slashing thing that’s unmistakable. I skim the typed up part and several words catch my eye.

Food oasis, approved, best of luck.

I look up at Rossi and see his dark eyes are shining. “It’s a go?” I ask, hardly daring to hope.

Rossi nods. “It’s a go.”

I squeal, bouncing up and down and Gavin arches an eyebrow at me as if this kind of thing is totally out of character for me. And maybe it is. But I’m excited! Things are looking up! This is the good news I was hoping for.

And of course it would be Rossi giving me said good news.

“We’re calling it the food oasis project,” Rossi says, as he takes my arm and leads me out the door. I close it behind me after telling dad I’ll see him after my shift at the kitchen. He still doesn’t respond and I promise myself I’ll spend some time really trying to get through to him tonight.

We walk toward the car, but I feel something pulling at me even as Gavin continues to talk. “I’ll teach you what I know about the seasons and gardening, though I’m also willing to pay for you to take college courses since you’re going to be running things.”

That stops me cold. “I’m going to be running things?” I ask, upset. He didn’t discuss this with me first? He can’t just start making demands of me like this. My time is my own, and I need to be free to do certain things. And nothing should be decided without me, ever, when it concerns me. I’m not going to work with him if he’s not going to treat me as a partner.

Rossi’s eyes meet mine over the car. “Yes. And you’ll be compensated.”

Anger. That’s what I’m feeling. Absolute, consuming rage.

“I don’t need to get paid to do this,” I say, planting my feet in the snow. “I do it because it’s the right thing to do.”

But Rossi doesn’t seem moved by my words. “But it’s going to cut into your work time and you deserve to be compensated.” I sense he’s not going to budge and it’s like a wedge between us.

“I don’t want it.” I take a step back.

Rossi’s expression hardens, but only a tiny bit. I only see it because I’m focused on him.

“I want to learn,” I say, torn between being upset he’s ruining this for me and wanting it so very badly I’m almost willing to bend to his terms.

“You’ve got bills to pay. I won’t have this compromising that.” His words send my hackles up and I glare at him, hating that he’s pushing like this.

“That’s none of your damn business,” I say curtly as I back up another step. “I think this was a bad idea,” I say, turning to go back home with dad. I don’t need Gavin Rossi or his stupid job that wasn’t a job before but is now.

Why did I ever think he could understand me? I don’t need to get paid to do the right thing. I work in the kitchen because they need volunteers. For him to pay me for it would cheapen the whole thing. It wouldn’t be fair to the other people who also volunteer their time.

It wouldn’t let me sleep at night.

Where the hell does he get off thinking he can just come in and change everything? Who is Gavin Rossi to turn my whole damn world upside down?

As I reach the edge of the sidewalk I feel the ground under me shift with a cracking sound. My foot comes out from under me as the ice fractures and my weight slides on the unstable footing. Panic fills me and I let out a short, sharp shriek as the sky falls away.

I hit the ground on my back and the crack of my head hitting the ice buried under snow reverberates through my skull. The sickening thud sounds dull to my ears and through my head, like an egg in a sock hitting pavement.

“Cin!” I hear Rossi call me as if from far away and I wonder if I’m going to die.

I knew it was icy. I should have been more careful. I’m such an idiot.

The front door opens and I see dad, panic in his face as he carefully rushes to my side. “Cindy!” He’s quick to drop to his knees at my side as he takes my head in his lap. “Stay with me,” he whispers, his hands petting my face. But the world is spinning, whiting out as if the snow has started falling once more.