Page 18 of Compassion

The giggles that escape are genuine. “Yeah, that sounds like Dad.”

“Excuse me,” Gwenith loudly tries to interrupt pushing me to quickly speak over her.

“You know what? Why don’t I make another batch this weekend and drop them off for all of you without telling him first? That way you can help yourselves! And if Dad tries to give you crap about it, you can just tell him, a cookie angel dropped them off. You hadno cluewhere they came from.”

“You are a cookie angel,” McAdams gleefully chortles. “Only woman I know who bakes cookies and wants nothing in return.”

Okay maybe not nothing this time. Forgetting this whole little incident happened is the hope.

“Well, before I become a sleet angel,” I casually motion up to the sky where it’s beginning to fall, “do you mind if me and Pizza Dude go inside? You both probably know I’m still not really a fan of this weather.”

Sympathy I hate to see fills both their stares but for the first time in a long time, I’m more than okay playing that card.

“Of course, Little Jaye Jenkins,” Brallon quickly nods and kicks his chin towards my garage. “Get inside and then perhaps talk to your guest about some things like boundaries. Private property. Keeping hisIDon him. And perhapsansweringquestions we ask rather than remaining silent.” His eyes briefly cut to the homeless man whose face is expressionless. “You look less guilty that way.”

“We’ll talk about all those things and more over hot cocoa inside.”

“God, you probably make a mean hot cocoa, too, don’t you?” McAdam’s practically drools.

“One of the best in the city.”

He tosses his partner a playful glare. “Why didn’t I marry a woman who could at the veryleastmake me good hot cocoa? Babs can barely turn on the coffee pot without setting off the smoke alarm.”

“That’s worrisome,” Brallon good-naturedly jabs back.

“Excuse me!” Gwenith squeaks as the homeless man retrieves his bag from the ground. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him skulking around in her trashcan!” Her boot covered foot aggressively stomps the ground. “He’s not her friend! He’s some homeless junkie looking for drugs or needles or-”

“Ma’am,” McAdams instantly chastises. “That’s enough.”

“More than enough, Gwenith.” My protective nature increases exponentially. “You have no right to say that. You don’t know

anything about him or his life.”

“Neither. Do. You,” she bitterly bites.

Don’t agree with her! I damn sure know more about him than she does!

“Ladies,” Officer Brallon firmly states at the same time he holds his hands out at both of us, “let’s just agree from this point going forward to bebetter neighborsandcommunicatewhen we believe we have a problem. Understood?”

“Definitely,” I softly sigh seconds before more sleet starts to come between us. “Gonna go ahead and go.” Motioning my head towards the garage occurs next. “Pizza Dude, I’ve got a couple empty boxes in the garage. Do you mind tossing them in the recycle for me while I go to the bathroom? Ireallyhave to pee. Traffic was a nightmare.”

Only a small lie. I’m not actually going to go to the bathroom. I’m just trying to get him inside without getting him inside, ya know?

Mr. Green Eyes wordlessly nods and follows me to my two-car garage door where I type in a code to open it.

“Enjoy your night, Little Jaye Jenkins!” Officer Brallon insists on a warm wave yet turns a scolding finger point toward Gwenith.

I manage to hear the beginning of a lecture that includes phrases like “unnecessary calls” and “waste of valuable police time” on my way to the door that leads inside. Rather than going all the way in, I step out of view and casually point to the two empty delivery boxes I was planning to use for a library project, silently insisting he throws those away to make my story more believable.

And yes, we’re going to call it a story, because lie makes me feel really shitty about doing the right thing, which isnothow doing the right thing is supposed to feel!

Pizza Dude tosses the boxes, casually waves to the officers, and presents me with a single nod to lower it the instant he’s crossed the threshold like I just reappeared rather than had been lingering around the entire time.

Once we’re officially alone, our gazes meet again.

His stare glows so brightly that I have to fold my hands together in front of me to prevent myself from reaching out to touch it.

Him.

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