Malik stood there with snow on his shoulders and smiled despite himself.
“Thought so,” he said.
When he drove back to the house with the SUV following slowly behind his truck, Nia came running onto the porch like he had brought home a parade.
Claire stepped out behind her.
Her face changed when she saw the SUV moving.
Not because of the vehicle.
Because of him.
Like she was realizing the rescue had not ended on the road.
It had continued in small, steady acts.
No applause.
No invoice.
No performance.
Malik parked and handed her the keys.
“Should be good now,” he said. “But don’t shut it off until you get where you’re going. Battery needs time.”
Claire looked at the keys in her palm.
Then at him.
“You fixed it in the snow.”
“Wasn’t too bad.”
“Malik.”
He glanced away.
“What?”
“Let me pay you.”
“No.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“No?”
“No.”
“You spent your morning fixing my car.”
“You were stranded because of the storm. I helped.”
“That’s exactly why I should pay you.”
“And I said no.”
His voice stayed calm, but firm.
Claire studied him.
Most men she worked with would have named a number before she asked.
Some would have doubled it when they saw the badge on the grille.
Malik looked almost offended by the idea.
Not because he didn’t need money.
Everything around him said he did.
The patched porch step.
The truck with rust at the wheel well.
The child wearing boots one size too big.
The tired little house holding itself together by habit.
He needed money.
But he did not want charity dressed up as gratitude.
Claire understood that before he said another word.
So she nodded.
“All right.”
Nia threw her arms around Claire’s legs.
“You’re leaving?”
Claire crouched carefully and hugged her back.
“I have to.”
“You can visit.”
Malik opened his mouth to correct her, but stopped.
Claire looked at Nia’s face.
“I’d like that.”
