The Wildest Flowers of Budding Romance

The first three chapters of my serial MFM romance novel, Wildflower!

This serial has been a long time in the making. It started as a project to try to get rid of burnout, and it was working for a little bit. Until I started posting chapters, then the pressure was back on, and sure enough, the burnout reared it’s ugly head once again.

As the fall of 2024 came into full swing, I managed to find a more relaxed work/life balance and kept my focus on what was really important.

The reason I started Wildflower was because I desperately wanted to write what I wanted to write, without worrying about how something would be received. I wanted to say something about the rent crisis in Halifax. I wanted two adult men that are best friends be able to be affectionate and caring and cinnamon rolls while still being manly AF and attractive, because romance heroes don’t have to be toxic alpha-holes to be sexy. I wanted recovery from past traumas that was nuanced and realistic. I wanted polyamory that didn’t have to be a thing, it could just be an accepted way to love and be loved. I wanted the sexuality of my characters to not have to be overtly and explicitly labelled on the page, so they could just be who they are and be accepted.

I wanted to be able to write for myself, to find the love in it again, because so much of this business is stress and pressure and I’d forgotten that I got into it because I fucking love to write stories. That I will eventually find my people, those that connect with my work because it resonates with them, and that’s the most important connection of all.

All this to say, Wildflower is finally nearing completion and I am back in the saddle, remembering what’s most important and having found the love for what I do again. I’m ready to share, and I hope those of you who are ready to receive will find fulfillment in my work.

A huge thank you to those of you who have stuck by me even when I wasn’t able to produce. Your support means more to me than I can ever properly express.

Anyway! Without further ado, here are the first three chapters of my unconventional MFM contemporary romance. Make it to the end for a special surprise!

Chapter One

The bass thrummed through Liliana’s bones as she rolled onto her back, bare skin hot against the cool wood of the stage. Colourful lights bathed her flesh in an ethereal glow, passionate hues of pink, red, deep purple.

She lost herself in the music, lithe body gyrating as she curled her arms back, running her fingers through her honey tresses and spreading her knees.

She loved putting herself on display like this, the powerful feeling of being desired but untouchable. Taking back her own body, hers, running her own hands down her creamy thighs while the hungry eyes of the audience devoured her.

Dancing had always been a secret passion, something she’d kept close to her heart, something she’d faked being bad at in her previous life because she didn’t want it to be taken from her like everything else.

By the time her set was over, she walked backstage with her discarded outfit over her shoulder and a fat stack of bills in her hand. Most of it would go to the house, but it still felt good to hold it before she had to dish it out.

“Hey, Lil, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Liliana’s breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes for a beat. She’d anticipated this coming, but not this soon. Cassie had been nice enough to let her crash on her couch since she’d started working at the club until she could get a place of her own, but a recent new boyfriend had thrown a wrench in those plans. When it had become clear that she wasn’t interested in being their third in the bedroom, Derek hadn’t been subtle about not wanting her in the apartment.

She’d hoped that maybe Cassie wouldn’t keep him around, but the apologetic look in her coworker’s eyes told her that this wasn’t going to be a conversation on how to dump her boyfriend.

“…going to need the extra key back,” Cassie was saying, and Lili pasted an agreeable smile on her face, inclining her head towards the change rooms.

“Yeah, no problem, let me grab it from my locker.” She led the way, earlier swagger a lot more muted, the high from her performance leaching out of her with each step. She didn’t want to make Cassie feel bad. She was kind, far too kind for a douchebag like Derek. Liliana couldn’t help but think she should have made a move herself on the woman—maybe if she had, then Derek would have never been in the picture in the first place.

But the last thing Liliana needed was a relationship. She’d known it when she arrived on the east coast, and she knew it now. Like her coworker, she had terrible taste in men. Though maybe not taking a chance on sweet women like Cassie was just icing on the cake of bad decisions in her life.

She handed over the key and Cassie took it, bringing it to her chest and pursing her lips as if she wanted to say something but held back.

“See you tomorrow?” she finally asked, her blue eyes sparkling in the dim light of the change room.

Liliana offered her the best smile she could muster. “Yeah, see you tomorrow.” She turned back to her locker, not wanting the other woman to see her expression fall. She pulled out the worn messenger bag that had contained her entire life in it for what felt like far too long now.

She changed into her street clothes, a pair of black leggings and a matching long-sleeved baggy t-shirt with a thin hood, pulling it up like a suit of armour. It would be, tonight, depending on where she was going to sleep.

Alec looked up from his paperwork as she knocked on the doorframe of his office, his greasy hair shining under the fluorescent lighting above. “Hook me up, doll,” he said out of the side of his mouth, the other clutching a filterless cigarette half-soaked with the sweat from his upper lip.

Liliana tossed the stack on his desk, crossing her arms to wait for him to count it. As always, he never gave her actual numbers, likely because he changed her percentage every time.

“Don’t give me that face.” He slid a significantly smaller stack towards her. “You know how expensive it is to keep this place under the radar.”

“I don’t, actually.” Liliana shoved her earnings into the bottom of her bag and threw it back over her shoulder. “But I gotta trust you, right?” The words felt sour in her mouth, but keeping her boss happy was in her best interests. Just not too happy, she thought as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

“Right. We’re providing an important service here. And I gotta take care of you girls, too.”

The word girls sent an unpleasant shiver up her spine. Women, you asshole. “Thanks,” she said instead, and turned towards the back door.

Cassie stood by the dressing room, chatting with a few others, and her big doe eyes met Liliana’s before giving a little wave.

Liliana returned it before she burst out the back entrance into a dark area of the parking lot.

“Oh, it’s you.” 

The disdainful words made her skin crawl, and she whipped around, heels clacking on the cracked asphalt. 

There was a distinct lack of security at the door, and she cursed herself for not checking the time before she’d exited. They were horrendously short-staffed on security, so the back door was only manned at certain times of night.

One look at Derek’s smug face, though, and Liliana couldn’t help herself. Cassie she’d wanted to be nice to…Derek’s feelings, however, meant less than nothing.

“I’ll be happy not to wake up to your ugly mug anymore.” She tightened the strap of her shoulder bag and affected her best resting bitch face.

His sneer transformed his already pig-like face into something monstrous. “Stuck-up cunt, have fun getting railed in an alleyway.” 

“Would be preferable to your microscopic dick.” To accentuate her point, Liliana raised her pinky finger, giving it a weak little wiggle.

He snarled and lashed out to snatch her wrist, and while she was fast enough to dodge that, her traitorous heels tripped her up and she stumbled as she tried to dive away. Strong fingers curled around the back of her neck and panic instantly gripped her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs.

Memories flooded her in a visceral wave, of pincer grips on the back of her neck, fingers pressing into her throat, hot drunk breath in her ear—

She struggled for sanity, struggled for purchase, struggled to remember that she wasn’t fucking helpless anymore, and she thrashed.

She twisted her body and jabbed back with her elbow, other fist curling and hitting something fleshy. Derek let out a huffing oof and his hold loosened just enough for her to slash at him, clawing at whatever flesh she could get her nails into, tearing, desperate, breaking not just this man but fucking all of them.

As soon as she was free she staggered away, leaving him hurling obscenities, glad she’d tightened her bag so she could just run, just go, get the hell away from this asshole—

Away, away, to where? If he ran after her she was fucked in these stupid shoes. She’d need flats if she wasn’t staying at Cassie’s so close anymore, if she was going to be out in the world needing to run.

She made it out of the parking lot and around a building before she realized he wasn’t coming after her. Her ankles were thankfully intact as she’d managed to sprint on her toes, but she slowed anyway. Adrenaline could cover up all kinds of pain, and she needed her ankles to be functional so she could do her job.

At the club where she’d be using the damn front entrance when the back wasn’t manned.

Stupid, stupid. Had she just kept her mouth shut and walked off then…well, it was done now.

Liliana crossed her arms as she walked, heading towards the water to clear her head. There was one place she could go that wouldn’t charge as much as a hotel room, especially not in the middle of the night…but she needed to chill the hell out first. She didn’t want to burst in there all freaked out and sketchy.

She rubbed the back of her neck absently as she tried to soothe the buzzing in her veins from the fight-or-flight.

Eventually, a few raucous hoots and hollers echoed in the distance along with some alt rock ballad warbling from the pub on the water. Liliana made her way around the opposite side of the building, not in the mood to navigate annoying drunk people.

The noise was comforting, though. Proof of life. Some kind of happiness, had by someone.

Liliana walked the landing lookout, finding a spot where she could sit and watch the water alone, the pub noise just within earshot. She pulled off her shoulder bag, hugging it to her chest as she leaned down to unbuckle her heels. She drew her legs up under her on the bench, taking in a deep breath.

So many of the locals complained that the harbours in Nova Scotia smelled like shit, but she’d come from the Greater Toronto Area, where the air felt like it could climb inside your lungs and shred them from the inside out.

To her, the maritimes air smelled fresh no matter where she was, in the highlands, on the beach, anywhere. The cool night air ghosted over the thin fabric of her top, but didn’t elicit a shiver. She had experience in the cold, trapped under Ontario winters feeling like she’d never be warm again. It was spring now on the ocean, which meant fresh breezes and cheap lobster and what should be a quiet and content life.

Instead her mouth tasted like failure.

But you’re free, and you’re alive.

Free and alive.

A mantra forever churning in her brain to remind her why she was here, why she tried so damn hard. After tonight she’d have to try even harder.

Prrrrowwww?

Liliana startled at the sound, snapping her gaze beside her where a dainty black cat parked its bum next to her on the bench.

“Jesus, you scared me,” she muttered, but reached out to lightly scratch the cat’s scruff. “You’re a little ways from home, huh?”

Funny that she’d come across this particular cat that spent its days sunning itself outside of the hostel on the other side of the highway. She frequented that place when she needed a bite to eat and couldn’t stand another off-brand mac and cheese or canned soup. The guys that ran it didn’t fuck around when it came to the hearty food they prepared there, and they charged very low, if at all.

Liliana gave the cat big long pets all down its back and tail. “Some asshole got me kicked out by my friend,” she cooed. “But your boys like me, right? They wouldn’t turn me away.”

The cat responded with more purring, bonking her hand with its head. She sighed, and the cat climbed up onto her lap, not curling up and getting comfortable but standing there, paws poking down into her thighs.

Prrrrt!

“I guess I could at least bring their kitty home, huh?” She used both her hands to scratch behind the cat’s ears, the only creature that appreciated her sharp nails.

As if in response, the cat climbed up her chest, perching on her shoulder and nuzzling her cheek. 

Liliana couldn’t help but smile, and decided herself chill enough to head out.

Animals were way better than people.

Chapter Two

Iseul grabbed the coffee pot, swirling the meagre contents around the bottom of the glass before deciding it wasn’t enough and putting it back on the burner.

“You’re up early,” Ambrose said from the front desk, feet kicked up and crossed at the ankle as he looked up over the top of whatever grungy western novel he was reading that week.

“Woke up wired,” Iseul replied with a shrug as he pulled the filter from the coffee maker and dumped the contents in the compost bin. He ran the calloused pads of his fingertips along the fine mesh as he rinsed it, then dried it off before putting it in the bottom of the bean grinder.

Bless the little indie cafe in the harbour for sponsoring their caffeine needs. Saved them money not having to buy big tubs at the grocery store, but it tasted heavenly, too.

He turned his back to the counter as the grinder whirred, finding Ambrose still eyeing him. There was a lot in that gaze, a knowing concern that asked all the questions he knew he didn’t have to ask out loud.

Iseul offered him a small smile in return. Which translated to, yes, I had a nightmare, yes, I’m okay, no, I don’t need to talk about it.

And also apparently yes, come hug me, because his best friend and business partner set down his paperback and walked over to wrap him up in a tight one. Ambrose’s tall frame dwarfed his, strong tattooed arms holding him close against his chest.

Iseul curled his arms around his friend’s back, the top of his head bumping against Ambrose’s chin, the embrace giving him back a bit of the warmth he’d lost from his impromptu wake-up.

The grinder hummed as it ran out of beans, and he disentangled himself to turn back and flick it off, grabbing the filter and sticking it in the coffee maker. “You can head up early if you want,” he said as he poured water into the reservoir, “I’m up for the day.”

“Nah, I’m at the point of no return in my book.” Ambrose flopped back into the worn rolling chair, snatching up the paperback again and smacking it against his palm to accentuate his point.

Iseul laughed, shaking his head. “Nerd.”

“Nothing nerdy about this scene,” the taller man quipped with a little wink before returning to his text.

Iseul wrinkled his nose, ruffling Ambrose’s dark shoulder-length hair as he left the lobby. “Don’t enjoy yourself too much in here.”

His friend’s laugh followed him down the hall, and he held on to it, grounding himself in the here and now. He turned left to enter the kitchen and opened the fridge, doing a quick inventory of their breakfast offerings.

The nearby grocery store always called them when they had any surplus or stuff that they couldn’t sell but was still okay to eat. They had to keep it on the down-low because the corporation that owned the chain had strict rules about throwing everything in the garbage they couldn’t use, but the store manager rightly thought that was bullshit.

Quite a few places around Dartmouth made deals like this with the boys at the Valley Street Hostel, which assured they had perishable foods to cook with. Though very occasionally they’d get tourists, most of their frequent flyers were homeless people or people waiting for housing or a spot in a shelter. It was a struggle making sure to cook healthy food for the people that needed the nutrients most.

The guys shopped when they could, but a lot of the time were able to get big batches of ‘enjoy tonight’ meat and produce that was still okay but would have ended up in the garbage otherwise.

Which is how they had a large stack of sausage packs and cartons of eggs for the hash Iseul planned to make for breakfast. He’d also procured two giant sacks of potatoes from the farmer’s market, a great end-of-the-day haul when the vendors were tired and just wanted to offload the last of their stock.

The previous summer they’d tried to grow potatoes on the fire escape platform out the back of their apartment upstairs, but got a warning due to obstructing an emergency exit. They were able to grow herbs inside, but no fruits or vegetables in substantial enough quantities. They were trying to secure a permit to be able to garden in the bit of green space out back.

A community garden would be perfect in the area, and not only would provide fresh food for them to feed people with, but also give some of their patrons something to take care of if they wished to. It often helped when people felt they had a purpose, feeling counted on.

Iseul could relate. Some days, being counted on was the only reason he could force himself to function.

He did a quick count, figuring that they could easily fill the bellies of everyone that had stayed overnight and have some leftover for anyone wandering through in the morning. They got a lot of frequent visitors throughout the day that didn’t have access to decent meals.

Iseul glanced up at the clock. Four o’clock wasn’t too early to start prepping the potatoes at least. He lifted one of the heavy burlap sacks up onto the stainless steel prep table in the center of the kitchen before setting out a large cutting board and a knife.

On the way back to the front lobby, he peeked into the dining hall, which was a fancy name for the large open room with two rows of industrial plastic picnic tables and a serving area on one end. There were a few people in there, the night owls that wanted safety but not sleep.

“Anyone want coffee?” He kept his voice quiet so as not to startle anyone.

There were nods all around, the closest man murmuring a “Yes, please.” Iseul offered him a smile. Max had been with them a long time, and though he was in his sixties and rough around the edges, he was polite and respectful which was all they could ask for in a place like this.

One had to be understanding of people’s struggles and how that affected their behaviour, but Iseul and Ambrose had a responsibility to keeping their visitors safe, too, so occasionally they had to deal with some bad eggs.

When he returned to the front, Ambrose set his book down again, inclining his head towards the window facing the street. “Hey Izzy, your spitfire is coming,” he said, voice taking on a teasing note.

Iseul poked his tongue into his cheek, pretending not to look as he flicked off the coffee machine. He grabbed the carafe and turned, taking in the honey-coloured poof of her messy bun and her bare feet on the asphalt as she crossed the road. Strappy heels hung off of one delicate wrist, her other arm holding a ball of black fur.

“She’s got Miss Waffle,” he said, then cursed himself for letting on that he was looking.

“And I’m sure you’re just checking out the cat,” Ambrose drawled with a self-satisfied smirk.

Iseul shot him a look and huffed. As if Ambrose didn’t also think she was pretty. He always had a charming smile for her when she came by.

Lili opened the door and stepped inside, plonking the cat on the front desk. “Hey, if it isn’t my favourite feather duster,” she said, motioning to Iseul’s pastel blue hair.

Ambrose snorted, the traitor.

“And with coffee, too, perfect,” she added.

“When was the last time you ate?” Iseul asked, keeping his expression as neutral as he could.

“I had a big greasy burger for dinner, dad.” She rolled her eyes, but a little quiver at the corner of her lip told him she was lying.

“Where did you find Missy?” Ambrose asked, voice casual, but Iseul knew his angle was to see how far she had walked that night.

“Oh, is that your name?” Lili crooned, scratching the cat under the chin lightly with her hot pink nails. “Miss Princess?”

“Miss Waffle,” Iseul corrected, earning a clear what-the-fuck look from the bewildered woman. “If you promise to keep Max company for breakfast, you can have coffee.” He raised the carafe as if in a cheers, and the softening of her pale green eyes told him he had her.

She always claimed she’d come just for a coffee. But she never turned down the food. Some people just had a hard time asking for things they needed.

“Happy to provide my delightful company.” She dipped into a graceful curtsey and Iseul’s eyebrows hit his hairline. She pointed a playful finger at him in warning. “Hey, some people think I’m sunshine, powder puff.”

Ambrose barked a laugh and picked up his book again.

“You want a mug?” Iseul poked his shoulder.

“Nah, thanks, I’m good, heading up to sleep after breakfast,” the taller man replied with a little wave of his hand.

“Whatcha readin’?” Lili asked, leaning her hands on the desk to peer closer to the paperback.

Iseul left Ambrose to his animated byplay of the gritty-but-sexy western he was reading and headed back to the dining hall to prepare coffees for the few people hanging out. He brought Max’s to the table, knowing he liked his black, and the old man gave him a half-toothed smile.

After chopping, boiling, frying, frying some more, scrambling, and even more frying, Iseul had four large warming trays of a hearty hash full of veggies and meat and eggs ready and steaming.

“Smells amazing,” Ambrose groaned as he entered the kitchen and snatched a set of oven mitts from the wall. Just as he wrapped his hands around the edges of one of the pans, a loud “Hey!” echoed from the dining room.

Both men darted across the hall, skidding to a stop at the sight of Lili perched on the edge of one of the picnic tables like a gargoyle ready to spring. Max sat on the bench behind her, his eyes wide. A twentysomething guy Iseul didn’t recognize stood next to the old man, a firm hand on his shoulder.

“My nails are sharp as razorblades and I’ll slice your needle dick into ribbons if you don’t find your own fucking seat,” Lili snarled.

The guy jutted out his chin in defiance, but took a step back from Max, and Ambrose swept in, oven mitts still on, patting the new guy on the back and speaking in low tones as he led him to another table.

Iseul approached Lili, crossing his arms as her intense gaze followed the new guy until he was a safe distance away.

“That was…graphic,” Iseul said.

Her limbs relaxed, and she uncurled her legs from their odd squatted position, sliding down to the floor. “That’s the only kind of language guys like that understand.” She swiped her palms a few times as if washing her hands of the situation. “You cool, Max?”

He nodded and reached for his mug, where half of the coffee had spilled across the smooth plastic. He wrapped the sleeve of his worn sweater around his hand and reached for the puddle.

“Hey, no worries,” Iseul said. “I’ll grab a cloth, don’t soak your clothes.” He glanced at Ambrose, who had sat down with the new guy in the farthest corner of the room, having what looked like a calm conversation. Ambrose had his own kind of language that everyone seemed to understand, no matter how hotheaded.

When Iseul got back with a cloth and a spray bottle of all-purpose cleaner, Lili held out her hands for them. “Hook me up, you don’t want the food getting cold.”

“Also you stood on the table,” he pointed out, inclining his head towards her discarded heels under the bench.

She shrugged sheepishly. “You of all people should understand needing some extra height, shorty.”

In the bright lights of the hall, as she leaned over the table and the thin hoodie of her long-sleeved shirt unbunched a bit at the nape of her neck, Iseul spotted two reddish-brown spots just beneath her hairline.

They weren’t super prominent and may have not been noticed by most, but he could imagine a hand fitting right around the back of her skull into those spots. When she turned back around, she jumped slightly when she noticed he was still standing there, then held out the cleaning supplies.

“We have a separate room at the end of the hall with a few beds if you need a nap after breakfast,” he offered as he took the cloth and spray bottle back. “Nobody’s using it right now.” The extra room was used as an activity room, but they had cots for anyone who was uncomfortable sharing space with the twenty beds in the main hostel area.

She smiled, and that little quirk was back on the left side of her mouth. “I’m cool, I can just crash in the main space. Won’t sleep for too long anyway. Lots to do, I’m a busy gal.” She snapped her fingers. “Now chop chop on the food, this man is dying for our breakfast date over here.”

Max shot Iseul a wide grin, and the shorter man chuckled, putting a pin in his concern for the moment. He’d have to talk to Ambrose later.

“You’re a brave man,” he joked to Max, shaking his head and heading back across the hall to the kitchen.

Chapter Three

Ambrose set a big bowl of Izzy’s delicious hash in front of the newcomer who had tried to make a move on Max. He received a tired nod in return, and Ambrose headed off, satisfied he’d pinched the problem.

Well, Lili had grabbed the problem by the nuts and twisted, and Ambrose berated himself for not stepping in sooner. He’d just been so shocked, walking in and seeing her ready to pounce.

She never came to the hostel at nighttime, only ever randomly midday, claiming she wanted coffee but always voraciously eating the food Izzy offered her. He had a feeling deep in his gut that if she was turning up in the middle of the night something had gone sideways for her. But she wore her confident mask well, and people who did that generally didn’t respond to direct confrontation about their problems.

At least Ambrose had been able to diffuse the newcomer before he had escalated. Sometimes people just needed a gentle reminder of how to conduct themselves respectfully. Especially when they had an empty stomach.

As he passed Lili and Max, the elder apparently had said something funny because Lili laughed, spitting some egg and putting a hand to her mouth to contain her mess. Ambrose didn’t want to interrupt their meal, so he slid a napkin from the serving table in front of her.

She called a “thank you” through a mouthful of food followed by more giggles, and Ambrose gave her a little salute with the oven mitts in his hand before heading across the hall to join Izzy in the kitchen.

“I’m going to need to have a conversation with her later,” he said as he hung the mitts back up on the wall. When he turned back to his friend, he paused. Izzy’s powder blue shag was a bit fuzzy as if he’d been rubbing at it. “Hey, it’s okay. I talked the guy down, explained to him what happens when people cause shit in here, he’s chill now. No harm done.”

Izzy shook his head, drumming his fingers on his thighs. “She’s got bruises,” he said, motioning vaguely to the back of his head. “On her neck, up near her hairline on the back. They look fresh.”

Ambrose leaned casually into the doorway of the kitchen, peering into the dining hall across the way, where he would have had a perfect line of sight at the back of Lili’s head. Except she’d pulled her hood back up, misshapen due to the giant bun on top of her head.

Ambrose kept his voice soft, moving to lean against the counter next to his friend. “You think that’s why she came here in the middle of the night?”

“I don’t know.” Izzy looked down, as if suddenly realizing he’d been drumming his fingers, and flexed them, moving his hands to the edge of the counter instead. “I have no idea what her situation is. But it doesn’t look good tonight.”

Ambrose crossed his arms. He was still going to have to talk to her. But it was going to take some thought. She never looked strung-out or sick when she came around, but it was always during the day and she was clearly hungry based on the way she ate. She didn’t come in often enough for them to make a judgement call on whether she had a job either full time or part time, but if she wasn’t getting enough good food then she must be low income. She always left a couple of bucks for the food as per their ‘pay-what-you-want’ model, occasionally a five dollar bill but never more than that.

He didn’t like to assume someone’s situation, and given the way she’d leapt on that table, the bruises could have come from any kind of scrap. It was possible it wasn’t from an abusive situation. In any case, he was glad that she’d come to their doorstep instead of staying wherever she’d been.

“I tried offering her the back room,” Izzy murmured. “But she said no.”

“I bet she wants to stay near Max. She pretends like she’s just being social but she hovers over him.”

“Yeah.”

“Might be a good idea to offer Max the back room, actually,” Ambrose pointed out. “Nobody’s using it right now and I don’t think our new buddy is sticking around to sleep, but it might make the old guy more comfortable today.”

Izzy nodded, but his gaze still seemed far away.

Ambrose bumped him gently with his shoulder. “I’ll talk to her, okay?”

“You should sleep,” his friend said, finally focusing his eyes up to him with a small smile.

“And you should have still been sleeping,” Ambrose shot back. “I’ll head up in a bit. Gonna grab some of that delicious breakfast first.” He gave Izzy’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze and wandered back into the dining hall, grabbing a bowl and loading it up before sliding in next to Max.

“You know this guy’s mom was a concert pianist?” Lili pointed her fork at her companion.

“Is that why you like classical music?” Ambrose asked Max, receiving a shy nod in return. “Do you play?” He shoved a forkful of Izzy’s delicious concoction into his mouth.

“Not like my mama could,” Max replied, miming piano scales along the edge of the table. “But a little.”

Ambrose swallowed his mouthful and smiled. “I’ll have to bring my keyboard down one of these days.”

“You guys play too?” Lili asked as she dug around in the bottom of her bowl, pointedly staring down at it. He was sure the question was intended to sound casual, but he picked out the higher pitch of piqued curiosity.

“Just me,” he replied. “Izzy is convinced that dancer brain and instrument brain don’t mix, but I think it’s the sitting still part he’s not good at.”

She fumbled her fork a little, avoiding his gaze, and Ambrose couldn’t help the little spark of amusement quirking his lips.

“Dancer brain, huh?” She still had that overly innocent pitch, and his smirk deepened.

It seemed it wasn’t just Izzy he could tease for his attraction.

But later. First, business. “So Max, could you do me a solid? I’m behind on some laundry and I have to strip a couple beds in the main room, can you take back room today? There’re a couple of cots set up in there.”

The old man nodded. “Whatever is available, thank you.”

“Cool, Izzy will unlock it for you, I think he’s still in the kitchen.” Ambrose inclined his head as Max set down his fork in his empty bowl and got to his feet.

Lili’s chin jutted out a little, demeanour dropping like a stone as she stabbed one of the remaining few sausage chunks in the bottom of her bowl. “Good idea.” She shot an icy glance past Ambrose to the far corner where the newcomer still sat.

“You’re welcome to stay, too,” Ambrose offered, keeping his voice casual.

She focused on her food again. “No, I’m good, just came for coffee.”

“I’ve been up all night, too.” He didn’t want to flat out accuse her of looking tired. “Like recognizes like. A nap could do you good.”

Another stab, but she didn’t bring the meat to her lips. “I have shit to do today.”

“Work?” he asked before taking another bite.

“That’s tonight.” She didn’t elaborate, opting instead to finally shove the forkful in her mouth, chewing slowly.

He shrugged. “Well, once you’re done your errands today, you could come by for a bit,” he suggested. “I think Izzy is making chicken soup for lunch.” When he saw she was still drawing out her chewing, he added, “Just maybe don’t climb on any tables, yeah?”

“Maybe don’t let dickbags in here that are going to bully old men,” she snapped, gripping the fork tightly.

Ambrose set his own down, folding his arms in his lap and turning his upper body a little so he wasn’t facing her head on. “We de-escalate as best we can in here—”

“Which is what you’re doing with me now, huh?” She scoffed, but at least had the decency to keep her voice down. “Is that why Izzy wanted to put me in the back room, because I’m a problem child that needs to be separated?”

He shook his head slowly. “No, he wanted you to be comfortable and safe, which is all we want for everyone that comes here.”

“I’m fine.” She reached up and tugged at her hood, as if she could pull it tighter around her, but the top just stretched around the large bun at the top of her head.

“I’m not saying you’re not,” he replied gently. “Just offering accommodations if you need them.”

“I don’t. I always pay for my food, don’t I?”

“That’s not the point,” Ambrose assured her. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to go back to wherever you were coming from.”

“You know you run a hostel not a group home, right? I don’t need saving.” She leaned down and felt around on the floor for her sandals before practically barrelling out of the dining hall.

Ambrose knew better than to follow. Her behaviour was clear lashing out to protect herself, which was common. He could only offer so much, and ultimately she was going to have to want help.

He couldn’t deny that her last words stung, though. He and Izzy had been trying for years to get funding to open a proper shelter. Getting everything up to code was an expensive endeavour within the provincial guidelines, and the building would need a complete overhaul. Not to mention more staff and facilities. There was a lot that went into a project of that size, but it was sorely needed in the area, considering the amount of underprivileged people who frequently stayed at the hostel.

Izzy and Ambrose did what they could, but they couldn’t provide care like an official shelter could. These people needed counselors, doctors, dorms, and more social programs. Izzy was trying to get a permit for a community garden, which would be a small step that could help, and was a lot more attainable than funding for a full-blown shelter project.

That didn’t stop them from applying with a full proposal every year, though. Every year that passed they had more statistics and numbers and experiences, hoping that the province would see how needed it was.

Until then, they operated a hostel that mostly provided free beds and food to people that couldn’t afford it. Some were able to toss them a little cash, and a lot of businesses in the area helped out and donated what they could. Occasionally they’d get actual tourists looking for a place to stay who would pay full price.

Ambrose knew it was naive to want to ‘save’ everyone. But if the people he met had an easier life, even just a little, because of their time at the hostel, then that was something. If everyone in the world did just a little—

A clatter erupted from the front room, followed by loud sobs, and he leapt to his feet.

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