Page 7 of Delayed Penalty

“I don’t know. I’m sure I could ask my mother for a few hours at her bakery until I find something.”

The thought turns my stomach sour. Ihateasking for help from anyone, especially my parents. It’s not because they don’t love me or won’t help support me; it’sbecauseof that I won’t ask. They’re too nice and take too much pity on me. I’m too old to keep asking them to bail me out.

“Or figure something else out,” I add.

“Like you figured it out when that last roommate of yours moved out?”

“Hey! I’m working on it!”

“It’s been months, Quinn. Your savings isn’t going to last you forever.”

What he doesn’t know is that my “savings” were never big to begin with, and I blew through them two weeks after my last roommate moved out when Iallegedlyate the cookies her mother sent her all the way from London.

Fine. I did, but in my defense, she didn’t label them, so I had no idea they were hers and sheknewI had a little online shopping issue. I thought they were something random I bought, not a gift from her mother.

But I don’t tell him any of that. There is no way I could stomach more disappointment today.

“I’ve got it handled, so don’t you worry a hair on that gorgeous, absolutely stunning full head of white.”

His cheeks turn a deep red, and my words do just as I’ve intended—distract him. Truthfully, I appreciate George’s worry and his desire to look after me. It’s sweet, and it’s nice to have someone who cares. But a big part of me wishes he wouldn’t care at all. That way, I wouldn’t feel so terrible whenever I disappoint him.

That’s what I inevitably do—disappoint people.

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not exactly the most stable person ever. I’ve had six roommates over the last three years and just as many jobs, and I’ve dropped out of college twice. I’m behind on every last bill in myname, and my trusty, old, cherry-red VW Bug is almost always in the shop for one reason or another. I don’t exactly scream “responsible adult.”

But isn’t that what your twenties are for? Finding yourself and making mistakes? I’m just out here having fun. Is that really such a crime?

I hitch my thumb over my shoulder. “Now, which cookies did you put the most love into this week? I’m on dessert duty tonight for family dinner.”

“You mean The Bensons Pile on Quinn Night?” George grumbles, annoyed by my family’s monthly ritual of dinner and a show—me being the entertainment.

I don’t even want to think about how tonight is going to go once they find out I lost my job again.

“They’re in the back,” he tells me. “I’m sure we’ve got some left. But just so we’re clear, it’s absolutely criminal taking my cookies to dinner when your mother makes the best in the city.”

“Thanks, George. You’re the best, and even though you’ve yet to compliment me on my sweet, sweet lollipop earrings today”—I tuck my shoulder-length brown hair behind my ear to show them off—“I still love you.”

He might roll his eyes, but I still see the corners of his mouth twitch before I make my way to the back in search of my favorite cookies, which I know he keepsin the back near the beer section. This place is right around the corner from me. There is no way I’mnotgoing to know where he keeps the good stuff.

I dig around until I find what I want—butterscotch cookies. They’re heaven and just what I need to make sure my mother doesn’t go completely off the rails when I tell her I’ve been fired yet again.

“They have cookies here?”

I lay a hand against my chest to calm my racing heart as I stare at the little girl standing just a few feet away. I swallow down the last of my candy, which I’m glad I didn’t just choke on.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

Her big, blue eyes widen, but she doesn’t call me out on my bad language. Instead, very quietly, she says, “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“It’s okay, sweetie.” I peek around for an adult, but nobody is nearby. I crouch down closer to her height and give her a reassuring smile. “Uh, does your mom or dad know you’re back here?”

“I don’t have a mom or dad.”

She states it calmly as if every kid doesn’t have a mom or a dad, and it completely breaks my heart. I don’t even know this girl, but I want to scoop her up into my arms, hug her tight, and keep her safe from all that is evil in this world.

“Are you here alone?”

She shakes her head.

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