I’d lived in the heart of downtown for three days, a couple of miles from here. Early on my second day, some street kids had found me sitting on the sidewalk, crying my eyes out as I felt lost and sorry for myself. They’d taken me under their protection and brought me to a local mission, where I’d eaten a hot meal. That night, they’d let me sleep in the basement of an abandoned house they’d found on the west side of the city. Then they’d told me I should go home, since putting up with a mother like mine was way better than anything they had to deal with. Also, after my frantic mother had contacted the police and filed a missing persons report on me, it was only a matter of time before I would have been found. Still, I was on the streets long enough for bad things to have happened if I’d been on my own the whole time.
I’d never seen them again, but I’d never forgotten what they’d done for me. If I could help somebody like that to pay it forward, then I would give it my best shot.
“Hey,” I said to the boy on the sidewalk. “Are you okay?”
When I didn’t get a response, I leaned over and tapped the kid lightly on his shoulder. I hated to think he might be hurt. “Can you hear me?”
A streetlamp nearby picked that moment to flicker on, and he finally pulled his hands away from his face. He blinked long lashes a few shades darker than his mahogany-colored hair. The most incredible eyes met mine—a cobalt-blue so intense it felt as if he could see right through me to the other side. My breath caught. He was the most gorgeous boy I’d ever seen in my life—and he seemed familiar to me, but I had no idea why.
He was older than I’d first thought. My age, maybe a year older.
His brows drew together. “Who are you?”
“I’m Samantha. Samantha Day. Do you need help? Are you hurt?”
He gazed into my eyes as if hypnotized by what he saw there. I gazed back, unable to look away from him. “I don’t know what to do. My—my head. It’s not working right ever since I fell. My thoughts are all jumbled together.” He grimaced as if he were in pain.
Concern swept through me. “You fell? Did you hit your head?”
“My head?”
I fished in my black leather bag for my phone. “If you want me to call somebody for you, I can totally do that.”
“I can’t find them.” There was pain in his voice, but I wasn’t sure if it was emotional or physical. Either way, my chest tightened at the sound of it. “I’ve been searching night and day. It’s my fault. All my fault. I’m going to fail and all will be lost. Everything and everyone. Forever and ever.”
He said he’d fallen, but I wasn’t so sure about that. If I was placing a bet, I’d say this was either a mental thing or a drug thing.
I studied him. Maybe I’d seen his picture in the newspaper or on TV as his parents searched for him out on the streets, and that was why he seemed so familiar.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Bishop.”
“Okay. Is that your first name or your last name?”
“It’s—just Bishop.”
“You have only one name?” Unless he was a rock star or a chess piece, it was another sign that he was having trouble thinking straight.
“Right—only Bishop. Nothing else now.” The expression on his handsome face was one of deep confusion. “When I volunteered for this, they told me I would be a great leader. They said there might be difficulties, but they thought I could handle whatever happened. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. I thought I’d go back to normal when I arrived. But this—this is not normal.” He looked angry about “this,” whatever it meant. He frowned and rubbed his temples. “Who are you?”
I felt an irresistible urge to help this boy, if I could. “I told you already. I’m Samantha. So you’re looking for somebody? Is it somebody from your family—your mom or dad? Is there anyone I can call to come pick you up?”
He pushed himself up from the sidewalk. He was easily a foot taller than me, although I was pretty short at five-two and currently wearing flats. His unexpected physical presence overwhelmed me for a moment and I took a shaky step back from him. The T-shirt he wore fit tight across his chest like it was a couple of sizes too small, but he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. I felt uneasy now that he was towering over me rather than sprawled on the sidewalk, and yet I didn’t turn away from him. Those eyes—they seemed to hold me in place. And he smelled so incredible—spicy and sweet—I couldn’t even describe it properly. His very presence seemed to sink into my senses.
“Samantha,” he repeated.
A strangely pleasant shiver slid down my spine. He cocked his head as he continued to study me with those vivid blue eyes. There was a coldness to his appearance, to the hard lines of his face, but I couldn’t look away.
I shifted back again as he drew closer to me. “What are you looking at?”
He held my gaze. “You’re…beautiful.”
“Uh…th-thanks?” My face flushed at his words and I cleared my throat. “Maybe I should just leave you alone. You look, um, sturdy enough now.” To say the least. I felt an urge to move even closer to him, but there wasn’t any reason for me to feel that way. Confusing emotions battled inside me. He might be in distress, but I wasn’t going to put myself in harm’s way. “But you really should call your parents and tell them you’re okay. They’re probably worried about you. There’s a mission on Peterson Avenue. They can help you if you go there.”
I’d never seen them again, but I’d never forgotten what they’d done for me. If I could help somebody like that to pay it forward, then I would give it my best shot.
“Hey,” I said to the boy on the sidewalk. “Are you okay?”
When I didn’t get a response, I leaned over and tapped the kid lightly on his shoulder. I hated to think he might be hurt. “Can you hear me?”
A streetlamp nearby picked that moment to flicker on, and he finally pulled his hands away from his face. He blinked long lashes a few shades darker than his mahogany-colored hair. The most incredible eyes met mine—a cobalt-blue so intense it felt as if he could see right through me to the other side. My breath caught. He was the most gorgeous boy I’d ever seen in my life—and he seemed familiar to me, but I had no idea why.
He was older than I’d first thought. My age, maybe a year older.
His brows drew together. “Who are you?”
“I’m Samantha. Samantha Day. Do you need help? Are you hurt?”
He gazed into my eyes as if hypnotized by what he saw there. I gazed back, unable to look away from him. “I don’t know what to do. My—my head. It’s not working right ever since I fell. My thoughts are all jumbled together.” He grimaced as if he were in pain.
Concern swept through me. “You fell? Did you hit your head?”
“My head?”
I fished in my black leather bag for my phone. “If you want me to call somebody for you, I can totally do that.”
“I can’t find them.” There was pain in his voice, but I wasn’t sure if it was emotional or physical. Either way, my chest tightened at the sound of it. “I’ve been searching night and day. It’s my fault. All my fault. I’m going to fail and all will be lost. Everything and everyone. Forever and ever.”
He said he’d fallen, but I wasn’t so sure about that. If I was placing a bet, I’d say this was either a mental thing or a drug thing.
I studied him. Maybe I’d seen his picture in the newspaper or on TV as his parents searched for him out on the streets, and that was why he seemed so familiar.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Bishop.”
“Okay. Is that your first name or your last name?”
“It’s—just Bishop.”
“You have only one name?” Unless he was a rock star or a chess piece, it was another sign that he was having trouble thinking straight.
“Right—only Bishop. Nothing else now.” The expression on his handsome face was one of deep confusion. “When I volunteered for this, they told me I would be a great leader. They said there might be difficulties, but they thought I could handle whatever happened. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. I thought I’d go back to normal when I arrived. But this—this is not normal.” He looked angry about “this,” whatever it meant. He frowned and rubbed his temples. “Who are you?”
I felt an irresistible urge to help this boy, if I could. “I told you already. I’m Samantha. So you’re looking for somebody? Is it somebody from your family—your mom or dad? Is there anyone I can call to come pick you up?”
He pushed himself up from the sidewalk. He was easily a foot taller than me, although I was pretty short at five-two and currently wearing flats. His unexpected physical presence overwhelmed me for a moment and I took a shaky step back from him. The T-shirt he wore fit tight across his chest like it was a couple of sizes too small, but he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. I felt uneasy now that he was towering over me rather than sprawled on the sidewalk, and yet I didn’t turn away from him. Those eyes—they seemed to hold me in place. And he smelled so incredible—spicy and sweet—I couldn’t even describe it properly. His very presence seemed to sink into my senses.
“Samantha,” he repeated.
A strangely pleasant shiver slid down my spine. He cocked his head as he continued to study me with those vivid blue eyes. There was a coldness to his appearance, to the hard lines of his face, but I couldn’t look away.
I shifted back again as he drew closer to me. “What are you looking at?”
He held my gaze. “You’re…beautiful.”
“Uh…th-thanks?” My face flushed at his words and I cleared my throat. “Maybe I should just leave you alone. You look, um, sturdy enough now.” To say the least. I felt an urge to move even closer to him, but there wasn’t any reason for me to feel that way. Confusing emotions battled inside me. He might be in distress, but I wasn’t going to put myself in harm’s way. “But you really should call your parents and tell them you’re okay. They’re probably worried about you. There’s a mission on Peterson Avenue. They can help you if you go there.”
