Inferno - Chelle Bliss by Chelle Bliss

She may not want to stay with me, but I can at least give her some money, so she’s not left without a penny in her pocket.

It’s the bare minimum I can do for a stranger, especially since I have so much.

I grab two crisp one-hundred-dollar bills from my wallet and fold them in half. “Take this,” I say to her, holding out the money as I stand behind her.

She drops her head, staring at the cash next to her arm. “I can’t take it.”

I push the bills forward farther. “Take it. You need it more than I do. You need at least some cash in your pocket if you’re going to leave.”

“You’ve done enough, Stone.”

I wince, feeling like that isn’t a compliment because she wouldn’t be on the street if I hadn’t opened my mouth. She’d be at home with a guy who treats her like shit. “I haven’t done enough, Opal. If you won’t let me give you a place to crash, take the money.”

Her eyes haven’t left my hand holding the cash.

“At least get yourself a room for the night.”

Her shoulders slump forward. “Fuck.” She peers up, looking over her shoulder, meeting my eyes. “Why are you helping me?”

I shrug. “Why not?”

“It’s not normal.”

“I’m not normal, but normal is boring. I’m also not always the good guy, Opal. I have my own issues, but I’ve been blessed with a good family, a great business, and everything I could ever want or need. Just take the money. Please.”

Fuck. It’s never been so hard to get someone to take money from my own hands without any expectation of being paid back. Especially when that person doesn’t have two pennies to rub together.

She exhales as her shoulders slump forward a little farther. “I don’t…”

I stay silent. My hand is still out, money stuck between two fingers, waiting for her to take the cash.

“I don’t feel right taking your money.”

A wave of nausea washes over me. She’s going to be alone and penniless. “Please. I won’t be able to sleep tonight if you don’t.”

“You two kids coming back?” Fran says from behind us. “The server’s waiting for us to order.”

“Shit,” Opal whispers.

Fran followed us, but it’s not surprising. Not much gets by her, and she makes sure she knows everything that’s going on. I swear she must’ve worked in intelligence when she was younger because she’s like a relentless detective.

“Come back in and eat, and then you can disappear,” I plead with her.

“Fine,” she says, turning slowly to face me and my aunt Fran.

“Be right there, Auntie,” I call out without looking back.

“Don’t take too long,” Fran replies before the music gets louder and then dull again.

Opal studies my face. “You people are too nice.”

I crack a smile, knowing we can be a total pain in the ass too. But for once, I am happy about my aunt’s nosiness. Without her walking out here, making Opal feel an ounce of guilt, she would’ve walked away with nothing.

“That’s one way to describe us.”

Opal moves slowly toward the Neon Cowboy, and I walk at her side, taking each step as she does. “Can I ask you something?”

“Maybe.”

“Why were you homeless at eighteen?” I glance at her after I ask the question, but she doesn’t seem fazed or bothered by my prying.

Her gaze is fixed on the doorway as she walks. “My foster parents turned me out when I legally became an adult. When the money stops coming in, they want to make room for someone new who will bring cash into the house.”

An inexplicable anger comes over me at her admission. Who could do that to someone so young and vulnerable? “Is that how it is for everyone? Foster parents, I mean.”

She shakes her head. “There are a lot of great foster families. But lucky me, I didn’t get one of those. I wasn’t there for long, so it wasn’t like I was sad to go.”

I can’t imagine turning eighteen and being turned out onto the streets with no one and nothing.

“How did you end up in foster care?” I ask her, but then I feel like an asshole for prying into something that’s none of my business. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Opal stops outside the entrance and turns to me, crossing her arms over her chest. “My parents died, and after that, I entered the system until I turned eighteen.”

“I’m sorry,” I say genuinely. “I can’t even imagine.”

“I’d never want you to,” she whispers before reaching for the door.

I grab the handle, opening the door for her, letting her walk inside first. I follow her back to the table, taking in her lean frame and long hair. She almost glides across the floor to where Bear and Fran are waiting.

“Sorry about that,” I say to them as I sit back down. “We needed to talk.”

“No problem,” Fran says, but she’s staring at us like she knows there’s something we’re not saying.

The waitress arrives and we order, but before she walks away, Bear makes sure she knows he wants the check for all of us. My hunger is dulled by the thoughts of Opal’s childhood and life struggles, but somehow, I still order a cheeseburger. She sticks to her original order, getting a side of fries and nothing else.