seemed to revel in her role in the escapade.
âMama, Iâm going to take Ryan for breakfast and explain everything.â Zoe placed an arm around her motherâs shoulder and helped her rise to her feet.
âYou go to Paradeisos, yes?â Elena asked. âAunt Kassie will take good care of you.â
âOkay. You take care of Dad and Sam, okay?â
Elena nodded. âYouâre a good girl, Zoe.â She kissed her daughterâs cheek and whispered something in her ear.
âI love you.â Zoe hugged her mother tight.
Watching the interaction, a lump of emotion swelled in Ryanâs chest and he wondered if his sister would still be alive had she experienced even one tenth of the love so freely given in this family. No judgments were made, no life-altering repercussions came as a result of bad behavior. Quite simply, this family was as foreign to Ryan as any distant country or culture.
Zoe walked up beside him. âLetâs go.â
He shot a glance Samâs way. âAre you okay?â he asked the young girl in the calm, steady voice expected of a foster-care worker. Inside, Ryan struggled with his emotions and was frustrated by his inability to express them.
âIâm cool.â But she held tightly onto Ima and, despite her outward bravado, he sensed she wasnât as fearless as she wanted him to believe.
âAnd Iâm serious. If you need anythingââ
âShe knows who to turn to.â Zoe prodded him in the back. âCome.â
He narrowed his gaze. She was a damn pushy woman, but he couldnât deny he was glad to see her after the weekend apart. Just knowing Zoe was a member of this family eased Ryanâs mind about Samâs safety. Zoe could be trusted to take good care of her.
âElena, you will use the locks in the future,â he stated, not asked.
âYes.â
âI will see to it, Mr. Baldwin.â Nicholas held his hand up in the air. âI promise you Samantha is safe with us.â
Ryan merely nodded and this time allowed Zoe to practically shove him out of the kitchen, then the family room and finally the house.
Once they were in the sunshine, she pasted a bright smile on her face and asked, âMy car or yours? Actually why donât I drive since you donât know your way around here and I go to the diner all the time. This way we wonât get lost and weâll be eating in no time.â
He already knew Zoe rambled when she was worried and now was no different.
He remained quiet on the way to wherever the restaurant was and let Zoe point out sights and continue to talk. He liked listening to her voice and despite their odd circumstances, she soothed his nerves.
Too much, considering everything that lay between them.
Â
A FTER Z OE PARKED in the graveled lot, Ryan followed her into the local diner. âSo your aunt Kassie owns this place?â he asked.
Zoe nodded. âSheâs my fatherâs sister.â
âI met her that first night.â
He settled into a seat across from Zoe in a tight booth with an individual coin-operated jukebox on the wall by the window. âThey donât have anything quite like this in Boston.â He glanced around at the linoleum floors, the blue vinyl seats and paper place mats printed with various advertisements.
She tipped her head to the side and those long, dark strands brushed her shoulders. âOh really? Because they arenât upscale?â
He read the wariness in her tone. âNo, because from my understanding, a traditional diner is a New York/New Jersey thing.â
âWeâre Greek. Diners are our heritage,â a female voice said.
He glanced up to see a dark-haired woman standing by the table.
âHi, Daph. Meet Samâs social worker, Ryan Baldwin. Daphneâs my first cousin,â Zoe explained.
âNice to meet you, Daphne.â Ryan shook the other womanâs hand, but his mind was on how