He reached into a battered canvas bag slung over his shoulder. “Hungry?”
He handed her a modest sandwich, lovingly wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper. Lily took it with reverence, as if it were a precious gift, and devoured it with delighted urgency.
“Easy now,” he teased gently. “Chew properly. You’ll choke eating that fast.”
His tone held only concern. She was too small, too thin, and far too serious for her age.
When the sandwich had disappeared, Lily looked up at him, her large eyes full of something older than her years.
“Grandpa Thomas,” she murmured, “can I stay with you tonight? Mom’s getting married again.”
Thomas didn’t need her to say more. In her world, “married” meant loud parties, strange men, alcohol-fueled chaos—and bruises. He had seen the signs before, marks on her fragile arms that had made his blood boil.
“Of course, little bird,” he said quietly. “Come on, it’ll be dark soon.”
