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“To help out at one of the shelters,” Carmen shouted back without stopping. Molly was already sliding in the car and Carmen didn’t want to keep her waiting. She was also secretly happy they were going to have a little more time alone.

The shelter housed a dozen beds, a small kitchen and communal bathroom. Carmen wasn’t sure what to expect. The tsunami of emotions shouldn’t have come as a shock, but the sheer weight of them took her by surprise. Memories of holding Mateo’s hand as they stood in line, hoping to get a bed, filtered through her mind. It felt life a lifetime ago and yet the memories unearthed feelings so strong it could have happened yesterday.

“Hey, you okay?” Molly asked as they made their way through the room.

“Yeah, it’s just been a while,” Carmen answered vaguely. Only Mateo and Carmen’s therapist knew the full extent of her trauma and experiences. Honestly, though, the time she spent with Mateo in the shelter where Rita found them were some of the happiest memories she had. Everything before then was bullshit and painful, but Rita’s shelter had been the start of their lives.

There were several kids already lined up outside, waiting to see if they had a bed for the night. Carmen knew they would have to turn some of them away, and she hated it. “Everything is set up. We just need to get them settled and fed,” Molly called from the kitchen.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“You can get the food sorted while I let them in.”

Carmen was thankful Molly was going to take over allocating beds. A little space to acclimatize to once familiar surroundings was what she needed. Busying herself with sandwiches and drinks, Carmen settled in. The room outside was alive with quiet chatter. It was clear that some kids knew each other from either the shelter or the streets.

Making her way around the room, Carmen handed out food and drink, chatting with each person as she went. Considering what these people were going through, Carmen found them to be open books. Happy to talk about their backgrounds.

Lights out happened at 11:30 p.m. Molly took her turn patrolling the bed area, making sure no one had brought anything in which they shouldn’t. “They’re all settled,” Molly whispered. Carmen was sitting at one end of an old couch, tucked away in one corner of the room.

“It breaks my heart,” Carmen replied. The crack in her voice gave away how affected she was by being there.

“It’s hard, but all we can do is to be here for them. They’re tough kids.”

“They shouldn’t have to be. None of them deserve to be here. What the fuck is wrong with people?” Carmen’s distress was quickly turning to anger. Parents abandoning their kids was unforgivable.

“They don’t deserve it. I wish I could make everything better, for every kid that passes through here.” Molly’s eyes swam with unshed tears.

“I know you do,” Carmen assured. “You do a fantastic job, Molly.”

In the dim light, Carmen could just make out Molly’s features. Even in sadness, Molly Parsons was a captivating sight to behold.

How easy would it be to lean over and press those soft lips against her own? Carmen felt herself leaning in. Would Molly reciprocate? She never got to find out. A deafening crash outside the building entryway made both women jump.

Molly was on her feet in a second, with Carmen hot on her trail. The scene Carmen came across outside left her breathless. Slumped in the doorway was a young man, maybe eighteen. Blood poured down his face from a cut above his eye. He had a swollen and split lip.

“Can you hear me?” Molly questioned gently, laying her hands on him. The boy nodded and winced. Carmen swooped down and began checking his vital signs.

“We need to get him inside and cleaned up,” she said after determining nothing major was broken. The first aid course she’d taken finally came in handy.

Together, Molly and Carmen scooped the boy up and helped him to the couch. The disturbance had alerted the other kids. Curious and frightened faces greeted them as they laid him down.

Molly didn’t waste time comforting the scared youths. Carmen set about cleaning the blood from the boy’s face. “What’s your name, honey?” she asked softly.

“Darren,” he gasped.

“Can you tell me where it hurts?”

“My side. I think I have some broken ribs.”

“Can I look?”

Darren nodded before shifting slowly to allow Carmen a look at his left-hand side. Deep bruises marred his skin. Faint yellow bruises were also visible. This wasn’t the first time he’d been beaten.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“My dad caught me with my boyfriend,” he sobbed. Carmen gritted her teeth and willed the tears she felt forming to stay where they were. Darren needed her to be strong. Looking at him closer, the resemblance to a young Mateo almost bowled her over.

“You’re safe now, okay? I think we might need to take you to the emergency room—”