Something in my chest tightened.
I walked over and pulled a twenty-dollar bill from my wallet.
“Sir,” I said, offering it, “please grab something hot. Coffee, food.”
The man straightened immediately, like I had insulted him.
“I’m not begging,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “Got a pension coming. Just waiting on paperwork.”
I froze with the bill still in my hand.
“Didn’t mean anything by it,” I said quickly. “You just look cold.”
He glanced at the money, then back at me.
“I’m waiting on someone,” he added. “I’ll be fine.”
That kind of pride—I recognized it. Bennett had the same stubborn backbone. The kind that keeps you standing even when life knocks you flat.
I slid the bill back into my pocket.
“Understood,” I said. “Stay warm, sir.”
He nodded briefly and went back to shaking the empty gas can.
I turned toward my truck.
That’s when Mooney exploded.
