Or

Rain hit me like fists.

I was running blind, wind tearing at my hoodie, €4.32 in my pocket and six days till rent. Then my vision blacked and I slammed into something solid.

Hands caught my elbows before I hit the ground. Warm. Steady. Not letting me fall.

I looked up, ready to spit venom at whoever dared touch me.

*Xavier Leclair.*

My bully’s best friend. The guy who laughed when Derek shoved me into lockers. The guy I swore was just like him.

“Emma?” His voice was rough from the rain. Not cold. _Surprised_.

“Let go of me,” I delivered looking away. His grip didn’t hurt, but it didn’t loosen either.

“You’ll fall,” he said. Simple. Matter of fact. “You’re shaking.”

“I’d rather fall than—”

“Than let Derek’s friend help you?” He finished it for me. His eyes were dark, but not cruel. Tired, maybe. Like he’d heard that before.

Rain ran down his face, dripping from his jaw. His white shirt was stuck to him. So was mine. I was suddenly aware of how thin my hoodie was. How close we were.

He’s Derek’s friend. He stood there while Derek called me Charity Case. He’s not good. He can’t be._

But his hands are warm. And he hasn’t let go. And I’m not on the ground_

“You're gonna work at Envine,”

Good,

be there tomorrow at 8pm.

A, Yh, I know, So?” I lifted my chin. Water streamed into my eyes. “Gonna make me pay for breathing your air too?”

Something flickered in his face. Not the smirk I expected. Something closer to a wince.

“I don’t want your money, Emma.”

He said my name. Not Charity Case. _Emma_.

“My father does,” I shot back. “He’s counting the days. Five, now. Either I pay rent or he sells me to the highest bidder. So forgive me if I don’t trust men who run with Derek.”

Xavier went still. The rain was the only sound for three seconds.

“Derek’s in juvie,” he said quietly. “Three months ago. Assault charge. Not you. Someone else.”

The world stuttered.

_What?_

“He’s not my friend,” Xavier said. “Not anymore. Not since I saw what he did to his last girlfriend. I testified.”

No, He’s definitely lying. He has to be. Bullies protect bullies. That’s the rule._

But his jaw is tight. And his eyes aren’t smug. They’re… angry. But not at me, concerned emma

“You’re cold,” he said, cutting through my thoughts. He shrugged off his suit jacket in one move. Held it out.

I stared at it. “I can’t pay you back.”

“It’s not a debt,” he said. “It’s a jacket. You’re shivering so hard you’ll be sick. And if you’re sick, you can’t work. If you can’t work, you can’t pay rent.”

He saw it. The whole equation. And he wasn’t using it.

I shouldn't trust him. Dad said all men want something. Derek proved it. But… Derek’s in juvie. Because of him?_

Exception of the thought,

I took the jacket. My fingers brushed his.

It smelled like cedar and something expensive. It was warm.

“I’m not weak,” I whispered. I don’t know why I said it. Maybe to him. Maybe to me.

“I know,” he said. And the way he looked at me — not at my wet clothes, not at the charity case, but at _me_ — made my throat close. “You’ve been surviving a war I didn’t see. I’m sorry for that.”

_Sorry._

No one had said that to me. Not Dad. Not Mom. Not Freya.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I fumbled it out.

*Unknown Number: 5 days, Emma. Don’t test me.*

Dad.

The color drained from my face. Xavier saw it.

“Who is it?” he asked. Voice low. Dangerous, but not at me. _For_ me.

I shook my head. Couldn’t speak. Clutched his jacket tighter.

He stepped closer, blocking the wind. Not touching, but _there_. A wall between me and the storm.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “After your shift. Wait for me. Please.”

_Please._

Xavier Leclair just said _please_ to me.