10

“The boy in that picture in your office, I bet he cares about you.”

There was something between them—two dirty, homeless boys on the street—that screamed loyalty.

“And who cares about you?”

I didn’t hesitate. “My papa.” I knew it was true. No matter the secrets he withheld from me and the anxieties of abandonment, I knew he loved me.

Ronan found something unpleasant in my response. “You have a soft heart.”

I didn’t say anything because, as annoying as it could sometimes be, it was true. “Don’t,” he said, as if I could simply change it. “The soft ones are easier to break.”

I wondered who gave this man such a jaded view on life, who cast him out into the cold street. Whatever happened to him, he was still kind and generous, and I couldn’t help but find that incredibly attractive.

“The soft ones are the most loyal,” I countered. “And naïve.”

“If you mean trusting, yes.”

“I meant naïve,” he deadpanned.