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She thinks for a moment before answering, "Maybe yellow?"

"Yellow definitely seems like a happy color. It fits you."

I pretend not to notice her cheeks turning pink even though it’s kind of adorable. Standing, I tell her, "I’m gonnapour myself a drink. Would you like one? I’m having a whiskey and coke, but I do have water, soda, and white wine if you’d like."

"Oh, um, just water is fine. Thank you."

"Alright, well if there’s anything you want that I don’t have, just let me know. Do you not like wine? I can get something else at the store this week if you prefer a different drink."

"I wouldn’t know."

My brows furrow. "Have you not had wine before?

She shakes her head. "I’ve never had alcohol."

"Hmm, well if you’re interested in trying any, you’re welcome to, but no pressure. Wait, youareover twenty-one, right?" I had sort of assumed she was in her early twenties, but if I accidentally offered refuge to a minor on the run from her family, we’re going to have much bigger problems.

She gives me an amused smile. "I turned twenty-three a few months ago. And I appreciate your offer, but I’ll pass tonight."

"Okay, sounds good." I hand her her glass of water before taking my seat across from her. "Alright, your turn to ask a question," I say, steering us back to safer territory.

"How long have you lived here?"

"In this apartment? About seven years. I’ve always lived in the area, but I’ve been in this place since my early thirties."

I study her expression, watching as she does the math in her head and realizes just how much older than her I am. "What about you? Where did you live before coming to Chicago?"

She pushes rice around her plate, avoiding eye contact. "In the middle of nowhere a few hours’ drive from here. Just a small town I’m sure you’ve never heard of."

I want to ask more—why she left, what she's running from—but her body language screams discomfort. Instead, I ask, "Did you always want to come to Chicago?"

"I didn't really plan it. I just needed somewhere far enough away but still within driving distance of what gas money I had. I followed the signs on the highway until they brought me here."

The implications of her words settle heavily in my chest. She didn't just leave, she fled.

We continue like this, trading questions back and forth. I learn that she's never been to a concert and has no idea who her favorite band is because she wasn't allowed to listen to "secular music." She knows how to knit and crochet. She’s always dreamed of going to college, though she’s not sure for what.

Each revelation makes me more curious about her past, even as it makes me angry on her behalf. She still carefully avoids speaking much about her family or what her life was like before, though it’s clear that wherever she came from had some extreme religious practices.

I find myself smiling as I listen to her, watching her eyes light up when we discuss a topic she’s interested in. It hits me how beautiful she is, especially when she forgets to be guarded. That shroud of meek, nervous energy disappears when she describes the book she's been reading or her desire to go to college someday.

I have to keep reminding myself not to stare, not to let my thoughts wander in that direction. She's too young, too vulnerable, too… everything I’m not. And considering her background, she sure as fuck doesn’t know about the world I live in—the world of carnal pleasures and kinky bliss.

I may not be a good man, but I’m decent enough to notpursue her. Not that I’d assume she’s interested in me in that way anyway.

"So," I say when there's a lull in the conversation, "will you stay? Now that you know I’m not some serial killer?"

She looks down at her nearly empty plate. "Are you sure? I really don't want to be a burden."

"You're not a burden," I tell her for the second time tonight. "If anything, it's nice having someone around to talk to." If Shane could see me now, he’d be laughing his ass off knowing how many women I’ve gone out of my way tonothave stick around.

"Okay, but only until I save up enough for my own place. And I'll help with groceries and cleaning and whatever else you need."

"Deal." I gather up some empty containers and try to ignore the way my worry dissipates now that I know she'll stay. "Though fair warning—I’m not much of a morning person, so don't expect scintillating conversation before noon."

She laughs at my lighthearted warning. "Noted. I’m used to waking up early to—" she cuts herself off. "Well, it doesn’t matter why anymore, but I’ll be up bright and early."

I wish she would have finished her sentence. I’m so curious about her life, even more so because she’s making such an effort to hide it. "Sounds good. Sometimes I work from home and sometimes I work from the office, so if I’m gone during the day and don’t get the chance to see you before I leave, don’t worry. You have my number if you need anything while I’m out."