Chapter 4: A Hand Reached Out

In the days that followed, I ran all over the city, searching for jobs Nathan could do.

I scoured job boards, asked around at local stores, even begged a few favors from Mrs. Carter’s bingo friends. Every rejection stung.

He never commented on my efforts, but there was something in his eyes I couldn’t read.

Sometimes, I’d catch him watching me, his expression unreadable. It made me wonder what he was thinking.

Eventually, I helped him land a cashier job at a supermarket. The boss didn’t care about his record.

It wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest work. The boss was a gruff guy with a soft spot for lost causes.

Eight hours, barely minimum wage.

Still, a paycheck was a paycheck. I tried to stay positive, even as I worried about how he’d make ends meet.

In this age of soaring prices, that was nothing.

But I was already grateful.

A start was a start. I told myself that every day.

I tore off the job ad and bounced over to him, happily sharing the news.

My good mood seemed to rub off on him.

He almost smiled. And then—out of nowhere—he ruffled my hair.

The gesture was so unexpected, I froze in place. It was gentle, almost affectionate—a rare glimpse of the boy he might have been.

I froze, and so did he.

For a second, we just stared at each other, both startled by the contact.

Even my mom noticed my concern for Nathan.

She was sharper than she looked. Moms always are.

"Emily, you’re not falling for Nathan Calloway, are you?"

She finally asked after seeing him come upstairs.

Her tone was serious, and it startled me.

She gave me that look—half warning, half worry. I felt my cheeks heat up.

"I just helped him find a job."

I tried to sound casual, but my voice cracked. She wasn’t buying it.

Then she started listing all the reasons Nathan and I were a terrible idea.

Like—

"He’s a good kid, but he’s been to juvie, and with a father like that, his life is ruined…"

And so on.

She ticked off reasons on her fingers, each one more dire than the last. I tuned her out, but the words still stung.

My mind was a mess.

I lay awake at night, replaying everything—his smile, his silence, the way he looked at me sometimes.

Toward Nathan, I felt more pity than fear, especially now that the plot had started to change. I wasn’t as opposed to being around him.

But…

But that hair ruffle kept replaying in my head. And that look in his eyes—yeah, I noticed.

I chose to ignore that strange feeling inside.

I told myself it was just gratitude, nothing more. But my heart knew better.

"Mr. Calloway may be detained now, but he’ll be out soon enough. Those two are bound to cause more trouble."

My head throbbed.

I rubbed my temples, trying to chase away the headache. Trouble seemed to follow the Calloways like a dark cloud.

I rubbed my temples and nudged my mom inside.

"Mom, it’s their family business. Didn’t you tell me not to gossip? Now look at you."

She looked a little sheepish, glared at me.

She huffed, but I saw the corner of her mouth twitch. She knew I had her there.

"I’m just looking out for you. You don’t know how hard it’s been to raise you. I just want you to be happy—don’t let someone like that hold you back…"

I wanted to say Nathan wasn’t like that.

But I knew her temper. If I said that, she’d be even more convinced I liked the neighbor upstairs.

Sometimes it’s better not to explain.

So I said nothing, pushed her inside, and, almost reflexively, glanced up—only to lock eyes with Nathan on the floor above.

He was just standing there, watching. Our eyes met—just for a second. Then he looked away.

Did he hear?

My heart skipped, and for some reason, meeting his calm gaze made me feel guilty.

I wondered if he’d overheard everything. The thought made my cheeks burn.

In the days that followed, I wanted to explain, but every time I hesitated, I didn’t know what to say.

I rehearsed a dozen speeches in my head, but none of them sounded right. I kept chickening out at the last second.

And Nathan was always out early and back late. We didn’t see each other for a whole week.

He threw himself into work. Extra shifts, late nights—anything to stay busy.

Finally.

After a bit of "staking out," I caught him coming home from work.

I waited by the mailboxes, pretending to sort through junk mail until I saw him trudging up the stairs, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

The cut on his arm had healed, and his buzz cut had grown out a bit, making him look less harsh. He walked toward me, head down. I hurriedly tossed my trash and pretended to bump into him.

"Hey, what a coincidence—you’re back."

I shamelessly greeted him.

I tried to sound casual, but my voice was a little too bright, a little too eager.

But Nathan just glanced at me, gave a quiet, "Yeah," and walked right past.

He didn’t even slow down. The distance between us felt wider than ever.

My heart sank a little.

I hugged my arms around myself, trying not to let it show. But the ache in my chest wouldn’t go away.

For some reason, his coldness made me feel suffocated. On impulse, I grabbed his hand and finally said what I’d been wanting to all week.

My fingers closed around his wrist. No time to second-guess.

"About what my mom said—don’t take it to heart."

My voice trembled. I hoped he’d understand, hoped he’d forgive me for not standing up for him.

He paused, then after a while, finally turned around, looking at me with his usual calm gaze.

His eyes were steady, but there was something wounded there, something I hadn’t noticed before.

Under that look, I went stiff.

"Your mom’s right."

He pulled his arm back, said only that, and turned away, stepping into the darkness of the stairwell.

His words stung. I watched him go. God, I felt so small.

In that moment, my heart felt stabbed, a wave of sour sadness rushing in. Watching his lonely figure, I felt even more sorry for this boy the world never treated kindly…

I leaned against the wall, fighting back tears. I wanted to run after him, but my feet wouldn’t move.