A Chance in the Night by Kimberly Van Meter Page A

I’ll even volunteer on snack day.”
    “That’s quite a commitment,” she murmured, but there was a hint of wistful admiration couched in her tone that made him wonder.
    He shrugged. “I don’t mind. Mathias is a good kid.”
    “And you do this out of the goodness of your heart?” she asked. “You don’t get paid or anything for this?”
    “No, I don’t get paid but it’s worth something to me,” he said. Perhaps if he’d had someone to talk to before his mom died, he might’ve felt less alone, less afraid.
    “Oh?”
    “I get the chance to make a difference,” he answered truthfully. “Not every kid gets an ideal start in life. I’m trying to do what I can to even the score.”
    Her brow lifted ever so slightly as she said, “If only more people were more like you.”
    “You don’t believe me. I sense sarcasm.”
    “This is Manhattan. Everyone’s got an angle. Yours seems harmless enough, though.”
    He tried not to take offense. She was right. Everyone did have an agenda but in this, he didn’t. However, he wasn’t going to waste time justifying himself for it would only make him look guilty. “Believe what you want. Just take me at my word that your actions will affect your son somewhere down the road.”
    He must’ve struck a nerve. Her silence felt weighted, filled with something she couldn’t talk about without cost. Then he remembered something from that night. “Listen, if you need help…I might be able to hook you up with some resources. I know a lot of people from my connections to the Buddy program.”
    “You can’t help me,” she said quietly, shocking him with her bleak honesty. “No one can.”
    “Are you in some kind of trouble?” he asked. “You mentioned being punished. If you’re being forced…” He’d heard of pimps getting dangerously possessive with their girls. He couldn’t imagine being under someone’s thumb like that. At least with his mother she’d been a free agent. For that small blessing, he’d been grateful. “I could see what I can do.”
    She gave him a look from her clear hazel eyes that was at the same time hard and vulnerable and he wondered if she realized how much she gave away with that single glance. “I can’t afford any more attempts.” She drew a halting breath and forced a short smile. “I appreciate your help. I’m sorry I snuck out on you. You deserved better but believe me when I say that I did you a favor.”
    He didn’t doubt her honesty at that moment. And he should’ve left it at that. She was giving warnings to steer clear of her and her problems. But there was something about her—and it wasn’t anything about her physically, which would’ve been the easy motivation for anyone else—but rather it was when she looked at her son he saw pure love tempered by desolation. He wanted to know why. And he knew full well his curiosity wasn’t a good thing but he’d been snagged in the mouth pretty hard and there was no shaking it loose no matter how hard he tried.
    “At least tell me your name,” he said.
    Her groomed brows arched. “What’s in a name? The likelihood of ever seeing each other again is slim.”
    “The odds were slim before today and yet here we are.”
    “I could give you any name and it wouldn’t matter.”
    “It matters to me.”
    She held his stare for a long moment and he wondered what went on beyond that careful facade. He suspected a deep well lurked beneath that seemingly still surface. He half expected her to leave him hanging like she did that morning. But she surprised him with an answer. “My name is Skye D’Lane. Thank you…” She paused in question, waiting with a slight tilt of her lips.
    “Christian. Christian Holt.”
    “Thank you, Christian, for being there.”

    S KYE NEARLY BIT HER TONGUE for going against her own decision to remain a mystery. But she’d felt compelled to at least give him her name. She figured it was only fair seeing as he’d saved her life. Yet, as she