He had never had to.

The whole arrangement of their world had taught it to her without a single word from him, and he had accepted her carefully minimized presence in his home for seven months as simply the natural way of things, the proper hush of good service, never once wondering what it cost a human being to make herself that quiet, day after day, or what she might be holding silent as she polished his tables.

That was the thing he had really overheard, standing in his hallway that morning, beneath the words about the money: the sound of a person who had been taught, thoroughly, that her own sorrow was an imposition.

And it was that sound, even more than the twenty-eight dollars, that would not let him simply pour his coffee and walk away.

Chapter 2 — Twenty-Eight Dollars

“Mom, I truly hate asking you for help again,” Lianna murmured, leaning against the marble counter.

“But could you possibly lend me twenty-eight dollars?”

There was a pause on the line, and when she spoke again her voice cracked under the strain.

“Austin is almost out of formula, and I thought I could stretch the last container until Friday’s paycheck, but there isn’t enough for tonight.

Please don’t skip your own groceries for my sake.

I’ll figure out a way to manage.

I’ll pay you back the moment my check clears in the morning, I promise.”

Corbin stood motionless in the hallway, caught completely off guard.

Twenty-eight dollars.