Free The Hardest Fall (Roadmap to Your Heart Book 3) by Christina Lee Page A

fingernails, which were overdue for a manicure. “Maybe not.”
    Before I could make myself scarce, she held up her laptop. “Some of your new fans are leaving comments. You should keep talking. They liked the funny stories you shared in your introductory video.”
    “My specialty.” I waved as I went out the door. I could entertain the masses and gab about everything under the sun, except all the important stuff. Like loneliness and pain and always playing second fiddle to important people in my life.
    Sebastian was leaning against the brick wall sipping his coffee when I stepped onto the pavement. He looked so serene, so part of this city. So sexy.
    “Sugar, no cream,” he said, thrusting the other cup in my direction. “I needed a java fix. The coffee at the shelter is kind of weak.”
    When I fished the paper container out of his hand our fingers brushed and I noticed how his cheeks tinged pink.
    “I see you changed out of your shirt.” I liked that he noticed.
    After washing my face a second time, I had thrown on a plain white tee. “I didn’t want to…I wanted to be presentable.”
    “Nah, you should always just be yourself.” That comment lit a flame in my stomach. “These folks will never judge you. You’ll see.”
    And see I did. I immediately felt meek as soon as I walked inside the large brick building with the double glass doors. The structure itself was nondescript, and the inside looked pretty dull and shabby, which probably meant they could use all the donations they could get. But at least it was clean and it smelled good, like somebody had sprayed a floral scent or had lit candles.
    There was a long hallway with several closed and open doors and as we walked through the space, Sebastian explained that some were offices and the others clustered toward the end were rooms for residents. The hall bled into a large space with a grand chandelier and the long rectangular tables were packed to the gills with groups of men and women of all ages and cultural backgrounds.
    “Most of these folks are straight off the streets,” Sebastian said, as I took in the spacious room. “Safe Harbor certainly doesn’t have that many beds.”
    A few people who had eyed us up either smiled or nodded in our direction but by and large everybody seemed lost in their own world as they talked quietly or just seemed grateful for a warm place to sit. A table of women tending to a couple of children struck me hard in the gut and I imagined for a moment what it would be like to come to a soup kitchen for dinner as a kid.
    “Baz,” a tall black gentleman said, thumping Sebastian on the shoulder. “Did you bring a guest?”
    “Andre, this is Tate,” Sebastian said, motioning to me over his shoulder. “He’s volunteering tonight.”
    “Thanks for being here, Tate,” Andre said and then he was off calling out orders to the various people who were busy setting up a buffet line. Sebastian walked over to a coat rack in a corner of the room and slipped two aprons off a hook, handing me one. I followed his lead by placing the stained white material over my head and tying it in the back.
    Several people greeted Sebastian by the name Baz and I made a mental note to razz him about that later, but there was too much activity around me to think about it any further. I was asked by a tiny elderly lady with a loud voice to slip on a hair net, and then I was maneuvered in front of a vat of soup and given the job of ladling the creamy liquid into bowls.
    When Andre’s deep baritone rang out in the crowded room that dinner was being served, people rose from the tables and lined up in an orderly fashion. What struck me most of all was that nobody tried to get to the food first or to cut in line. It was more respectful than other situations I’d witnessed where people were getting something for free. Maybe because this was about survival and that lent a certain gravity to the ceremony.
    The men and women who requested soup seemed