Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
King chuckles on the other end, his voice husky from lack of sleep. “No gambling for me. Just couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d give you a call before you start your day.”
I lean against the rough brick wall of the shelter, the chill of the early-morning air seeping through my coat. “Trouble sleeping? Is it because of Penn and everything that’s been happening?”
There’s a momentary pause before King responds, and I can almost hear him nodding. “Yeah, that’s part of it. But also because I miss you. Got used to having you beside me in bed.”
My heart swells at his words and I feel a twinge of longing. “I miss you too. But you’ll be back soon.”
“What does your day look like?” he asks.
“I’m working at a homeless shelter in downtown Pittsburgh today. Was just about to walk in when you called.”
“Is it safe there?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.
I glance around and decide not to tell him the full truth. “Totally safe. Standing at the doorstep now.”
“Please be careful. Have someone walk you to your car when you leave.”
“I will,” I reply automatically, although I’ve never had to do that before. I got a parallel spot half a block down today and I’ll be out of here well before it gets dark. But I don’t tell him any of that because he has a game tonight and therefore has more important things to worry about.
“I was hoping we could make plans for the weekend,” King says in a change of subject. “We’ll be flying back red-eye after playing the LA Kings, so I don’t think I’ll make the Ice Pups game that morning.”
“I can totally handle it,” I assure him.
“Maybe you can come over after and we can find something to do?” he poses. “That is, if you don’t already have plans.”
“Sounds like a great idea and I had no plans, but I do now. Anything in particular you want to do?”
There’s a quiet pause as he ponders and then asks, “Would you think me a fuddy-duddy, old man if I said I’d love to just hang around the condo, eat junk food and watch movies?”
Laughing, I reply, “That sounds wonderful. We’ll stay in pajamas all day.”
“Or naked,” he counters.
“That works too.”
“Oh,” he exclaims. “I want to get a Christmas tree and decorate it. Do you have yours up yet?”
“We do. Brittany, Izzy and I put it up Thanksgiving weekend.”
“Which goes to show you that I don’t hang at your house enough,” King says, and it hits me that no… he doesn’t. I always go over to his place.
“Would you like to come to my place on Saturday instead?” I ask, mentally calculating what that would look like with Brittany and Izzy around. It would be fine—fun, even—except there would be no nakedness.
Or getting him a Christmas tree.
“Maybe next time,” he says, perhaps reading my mind. “I’d kind of like you all to myself and I’d love to get a tree.”
“It’s a plan then,” I reply, eager for the weekend to hurry up and get here.
A sigh escapes King’s lips, filled with warmth and longing. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, King. Can’t wait to see you.”
“Same here. Have a good day and be careful at the shelter.”
“I will. Talk to you later.”
Smiling, I tap my phone on my chin as I ponder the conversation but then realize I’ve got work to do so I head into the building.
I step inside, feeling the weight of the worn door as it closes behind me. The warmth of the interior is a welcome embrace after battling the cold outside. The reception area is simple yet clean, with faded walls adorned with motivational posters and community notices. A handful of plastic chairs are lined up against one wall, occupied by individuals patiently waiting for assistance.
The reception desk, a plain wooden counter, is manned by a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a kind smile. Her name tag reads Kathy and she greets me warmly as I approach, recognizing me as a regular visitor.
“Good morning, Dr. Montreaux,” she says. “You’re just in time. I’ll buzz you through.”
I return her smile gratefully. “Good morning, Kathy. Thank you.”
She presses a button and I hear the familiar click of the mechanism unlocking. Pushing my way through the heavy metal door, I enter the main area of the shelter.
The space is functional rather than inviting, with rows of cots neatly arranged in the sleeping quarters. The smell of industrial cleaner lingers in the air, mingling with the aroma of breakfast being served in a nearby dining hall. Residents are beginning their day—some sitting on their cots while others line up for food. There is a mix of quiet conversations, clattering cutlery and the low drone of a television mounted in the corner.
I walk down a narrow hallway adorned with more motivational posters and community announcements until I reach the medical suite. The door is slightly ajar and I push it farther to enter a small but well-organized room. It’s been painted a calming shade of blue, with white cabinets lining one wall and an examination table situated in the center. Shelves stocked with medical supplies and equipment are meticulously organized throughout the room.