"Cha-Charlotte??"
"What's going on? Why are you… here?" I urged.
He spun around. Mouth open, not a word ready.
"I-I can explain..." he said quickly, already stepping toward me.
I crossed my arms and held his gaze.
He dragged a hand down his face. "Five weeks ago, I found them near a storm grate two blocks from my office. The mother was gone. They were freezing. I brought them here that night."
That wasn't the confession I'd braced for.The shelter's been over capacity for months," he explained. "They told me they didn't even know if they could keep the litter. So I started coming back every few nights... bringing food, blankets, and cash for the woman who stays late to care for them. She won't ask for it, but she needs it."
This wasn't the confession I'd braced for.
"Why didn't you just tell me you needed money?" I pressed.
"I should have," he admitted. "But sometimes I needed cash on the spot to buy food for these guys. It felt easier to grab it and go than to explain it. I convinced myself I was fixing a small problem without creating a bigger one."
Neither of us spoke for a long second.
