The rain fell in relentless sheets over Lexington Avenue, turning the cracked pavement into a shimmering blur of reflections and shadows. Streetlights flickered weakly, casting uneven light across the worn buildings that lined the block. It was past eleven, and the diner was supposed to be closing.
But Emily Parker had never been the kind of person to turn someone away.
Not when they were hungry. Not when they were alone.
She wiped down the counter, her fair skin flushed from the heat of the kitchen and the exhaustion of a twelve-hour shift. Her blonde hair was tied back loosely, a few strands sticking to her damp forehead. Just as she reached for the last glass, something outside caught her attention.
A boy.
Small. Thin. Sitting in a battered wheelchair just beyond the neon diner sign.
Rain soaked through his dark hair, his coat too worn to protect him from the cold. His hands clutched a frayed blanket that did nothing to keep him warm.
Emily frowned.
Without thinking twice, she set the rag down and pushed open the door. A gust of cold wind hit her instantly.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she said gently, crouching beside him. “What are you doing out here all alone?”