“Oh no, no, that's not what—”
“I know,” I say, cutting her off. “I'm just messing with you.”
Millie laughs, her body relaxing. “I should have figured.”
“Come on, I'll show you what I'm doing here.” I take her hand, guiding her outside and around the building. “I'm here building this.”
There's a brick building beside the soup kitchen. It's old and has been vacant for years. I lead her to the door and open it for her to go inside.
“I've been volunteering here on the weekends to help build a new homeless shelter.”
“Are you serious?” she asks, her eyes exploring the open space.
There are wood beams up, framing the new rooms where people will be able to stay. I can already see the finished space in my mind. There's going to be a playroom for children, and a nice library. Each room is going to be like a small apartment, with a bathroom and kitchenette and a living area.
“I'm very serious.”
“Why? How? I mean, how did you get into this type of volunteer work?”
“I was homeless once, in need of a place to lay my head and a chance to get back on my feet. After leaving the military, I just kind of wandered for a while, not really knowing who or what I wanted to be. I have no family, and no one who was willing to take me in and let me get on my feet. I got lucky; someone took a chance on me. If Oliver hadn't come into my life when he did, I don't know where I'd be right now.”
“Oliver?”
“He's my boss, but he's also my best friend.”
“So you did all this?”
“Oliver helps when he can, but yeah, this is my vision I guess. Sometimes all someone needs is a place that feels like home to get their lives back in order. That's what I want to give them.”
“That's incredible, Hardin,” she says, turning to face me. Her eyes are glossy as if she's trying to hold back tears. “I can't believe you were homeless, and now you're doing this. It's a selfless thing to do for people you'll never know.”
“It doesn't matter if I know them or not, I know what a lot of them are going through. All that matters is they have a roof over their heads and food in their stomach.” I tilt my head and arch my brows high. “So, now it's your turn. What are you doing here?”
“Well, I guess if you're the builder, I'm the farmer,” she says. “I help run a local garden up the street where we grow vegetables and donate them here, to the kitchen. We also donate to food banks and low income families around the city. I wish I could do this for a living, and not just on the weekend.”
“Well, do it then. What's stopping you?”
“There's no security and too much risk.”
I grab my work belt and wrap it around my waist. “You know, it's the risks in life that make living worthwhile.” Smiling, I hold out a hammer. “Want to give me a hand?”
“Sure,” she says with a soft grin. “I'd love to help.”
“I knew you would.”
We spend the next few hours finishing up the framework for the bathrooms. I position the beam, and she helps nail it in place. Millie is sweating. It trickles down her temples, and she wipes it away with the back of her hand, making a dirt streak across her forehead.
“You, uh, you got some. . .” I pause, taking a step forward. “Here, I'll get it for you.” Pulling a handkerchief from my back pocket, I wipe the dirt off her face.
“Thanks, my hands were already covered from the garden.”
“You know what I love about you,” I say, using my knuckles to push the loose strands of hair off her face, “I love that you're different. You're not like other rich girls. You actually care. You care about more than just yourself.”
“Stop, a lot of people care about others. I'm not doing anything special.”
“Yes you are. You're giving a piece of yourself just to make someone else's life better. That's special, which makes you special.”
Her cheeks blush as she bites her bottom lip and smiles. “Thank you.”
“You don't need to thank me for pointing out the obvious. But you can thank me for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Dinner?” she asks, letting her head fall into my palm.
“Yeah. Let me take you out for dinner.”
“I wish I could, but I can't tomorrow.”
I deflate slightly. “Oh all right. I guess I'll take a rain check then.”
Her lids widen as she lifts her head off my hand and stands straight. “I am free tonight, though.”
My heart hammers inside my chest excitedly. She isn't turning me down or pushing me away, afraid of what she's feeling inside.
Because I know exactly what she's feeling. I feel the same thing.